67 minute read
Horror VS Horror
VERSUS: HORROR MOVIE
You never forget your first horror movie. Mine was breathlessly watching Alien at seven years old, and not sleeping the night after. The real question: can there be a best horror movie? Two contributors debate the merits of scaring.
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TEAM SUSPIRIA
JAYMIE MARIE Contributor
The 1977 film Suspiria, directed by Italian horror director Dario Argento, is a cult classic that gives you the kind of 70s horror aesthetics you can’t find anywhere else. It’s a particularly standout film for its cinematography and nuanced themes, and in my opinion, one of the best horror movies ever made. Suspiria follows Suzy, played by Jessica Harper, as she joins a prestigious German dance academy getting caught up in a powerful and dangerous coven that (literally) hides within the studio walls. After a strange encounter with a distressed student trying to escape the dance academy, Suzy and her friend Sarah, played by Stefania Casini, begin to unravel the secrets of the academy.
When we usually think of horror, we think of a dark palette filled with dark lighting and costumes—Suspiria goes in the exact opposite direction. Filled with bright 70’s fashion like flowing sleeves, colour block patterns and of course, the swooping curtain bangs and loose curls that Farah Fawcett popularized in the late 70’. Suspiria also makes good use of technicolour lights,interior design and a beautiful classical score to tie it all together. Suspiria could easily be the most visually stunning horror movie of its time. Alongside the colourful
TEAM THE SILENCE OF THE LAMBS
SABA MOHSENI Contributor
“Fly, fly, fly. Fly, fly, fly,” whispers Dr. Hannibal Lecter, portrayed by Anthony Hopkins, as agent Clarice Starling, portrayed by Jodie Foster, rushes away feeling more than unsettled. In The Silence of the Lambs, it is all about the stillness and the quiet moments. There are no flashy jump scares or a gory blood bath. Instead, you are haunted by the eyes of Dr. Lecter as he is speaking directly to you in an intimate close up. The audience are haunted by the depth of his knowledge on human psychology and his self awareness. How can someone make so much sense and yet be a monster? Even more unsettling is the fact that the audience will start to root for a monstrous cannibal. The lines of morality are blurred when Dr. Lecter becomes fond of Agent Starling midway through the film. You will find the horror is not in the screams or murders but rather in the silence, in the whispers of help that no one ever heard and in all the lambs Agent Starling could never save as a child. The horror genre shines at its finest in The Silence of the Lambs because of its ability to haunt you long after the ending credits. design, I’ve always enjoyed the campy nature of classic horror films, and this is no exception. From excessive amounts of firetruck red blood, over the top chase scenes, and the over dramatization of horror, 70s-80s horror films have a clear style that modern directors imitate to this day in shows and movies such as Stranger Things, Super 8, and the most recent season of American Horror Story. From the SFX to the bone-chilling screams and the not-quite-fast-enough running away from an off-screen killer, Suspiria delivers everything I want from a late 70’s-80’s horror film. In the season of horror and everything spooky, I recommend viewers take some time out of their day to enjoy the timeless thrill of Dario Argento’s Suspiria. Argento’s film was remade in 2018 with a new cast and modern SFX and, although it is an incredible rendition of a beloved film, the original holds a lasting place in my heart.
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Aleksandar Jones @aleks.designs
Ethan Woronko @epworonko
EPIDEMIC CITY
A look at the communities that are banding together in the fight to keep doors open and spirits alive for local music venues in a post-pandemic city
ALEXIS ZYGAN Contributor
Music venues across Vancouver, namely The Wise Hall, Rickshaw, Vogue Theatre, Biltmore Cabaret and The Imperial, are entering their eighth month coping with the eerie void of desolate stages and empty seats collecting dust. Since doors shuttered in March, the regular scene of sidewalks filled with crowds of laughter and rambles on a Saturday night between sets has faded like the smoke from a half-finished cigarette. The typical Vancouver audiophile now sits at home, scrolling through the memory lane of social media and live streams. Many audience members, musicians and industry veterans like sound technician Kennan Zeigler-Sungur had no idea their last concert was also a farewell to the stage for the foreseeable future. Now, Zeigler-Sungur is imagining a new way to connect the Vancouver music scene—all from his backyard.
A weekend show is an opportunity to blow off steam, connect with friends and support musicians. According to study in the Annals of the New York Academy of Science, live music reduces symptoms of depression and lowers levels of stress hormones like cortisol. The turn of the century schoolhouse walls and beer-soaked floors of venues like The Wise Hall are ground zero for connection and community. Venues are fundamental to the Vancouver cultural landscape by bringing together people from diverse communities. Entertainment is the heart of cultural prosperity, and musicians depend on their local scene to discover and kick-start their career. Without the arts and the space artists inhabit, cities forfeit unique cultural capital in exchange for more of the same corporate monopolized nightlife now populating much of Granville Street. CLMA predicts that in the face of the pandemic, unless something changes, 96 percent of live music companies will go bankrupt without an audience.
It’s not just musicians that take center stage. The Canadian Live Music Associated (CLMA) estimates that 72,000 employees depend on venues for their livelihood. Booking agents, sound engineers, and bartenders all weave together a pastiche of the live music experience. When the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) ended this past September, those like industry veteran Zeigler-Sungur were forced to find a different path.
In a home studio out of his backyard in East Vancouver, ZeiglerSungur muses on 13 years of work as a sound technician. “Something you don't realize in the moment is the personal and emotional connection beyond just making a living.” His wife books bands to play shows at The Wise Hall.
In a turquoise heritage building a few blocks from Commercial Drive is The Wise Hall, a grassroots joint that’s served the East Vancouver community for over two decades. Once the host of a murder mystery in The X-Files, these days it’s a hub for East Vancouver locals, live music, flea markets, comedians, wrestling and burlesque—ocassionally at the same time. Like hundreds of small venues across the province on March 15, The Wise Hall closed their doors to the public. They may
be the last to reopen when restrictions are lifted, and some venues like Federicos and Stormcrow Tavern will never open their doors again.
The annual Saint Patrick's Day event with Shane's Teeth and Staggers and Jaggs was the first to go, according to owner Norm Elmore. “We were hoping for a couple of months, [but] this has certainly been a larger impact than we saw at that time,” Elmore shared. Even after receiving an interest-free loan from the Canada Emergency Business Account (CEBA), The Wise Hall struggles to pay bills without a reliable way to make revenue. Back in June when there was a stronger public imperative to slow the spread of COVID, lower case numbers provided a glimmer of hope that venues could reopen with half capacity. “We were developing our plan to do smaller shows, reopen our hall and do some solo artist stuff with social-distancing precautions,” said Elmore. Yet, with cases skyrocketing, provincial health officials announced new restrictions including immediate closure of all nightclubs, banquet halls and prohibiting live music. Now, The Wise Hall hopes to connect with their community through live-streaming.
Weekends spent drinking beers and listening to live music at familiar community hubs have vanished in life post-pandemic; replaced with Netflix and sourdough starters. COVID-19 deepens a preexisting precariousness of Vancouver venues, namely the dependence on a hazy mix of filled seats and pints to turn a profit. The integration of alcohol into the sales model hinders accessibility for listeners of all ages. “That is not a sustainable business model. The musician becomes a
glorified Duff Man,” Zeigler-Sungur shared, drawing on over a decade For venue operators, musicians, and music fans alike, there’s not of experience working in the field. “[Venues] didn’t have the resources quite a happy ending on the horizon, particularly after the Canadian to keep going beforehand, let alone doing it at half capacity.” Financial Medical Association published a study that social-distancing may last support in the form of comprehensive compensation from Creative until 2022. As a community, all we can do is implement mutual aid BC could cover expenses to ensure all residents of Vancouver, not just to support struggling musicians and gig workers. The Wise Hall plans the ones over 19, could attend. However, the first and perhaps most to use part of their grant money to organize a fundraising campaign. existential challenge is recognizing the cultural importance of stable “This has certainly been a larger impact than we saw at that time," notes music spaces. Elmore. Through united community support, Elmore is hopeful The Rising rent that prices out valuable spaces is an ongoing challenge for the local scene, only made worse under the weight of the pandemic— While we as a country tackle COVD-19, Vancouver’s local music many venues collapse under the financial pressure. Impermanence scene is undergoing a crisis that underpins many of the same defines performance spaces in Vancouver, with a large swath of shows unaddressed problems; among others, the unsustainable business that are hosted in abandoned warehouses for a few months before model of music venues and lack of all-ages spaces. “It’s a really development begins. In 2019 alone, Vancouver lost 333, Index and hard time to know how to do things, most of the things these folks Stylus Records. Each of which hosted a variety of artists from hardcore, are good at organizing involve events and people,” said Zeiglereletronic, folk, indie and funk. Also, restaurants that feature live music Sungur. Purchasing merchandise from local musicians, donating require everyone to remain seated. "One person gets excited and to mutual-aid campaigns, and sharing on social media to promote starts dancing and the place can get a fine—I have seen that happen. comprehensive local art organizations all help keep the scene, and the You need a cabaret license," he said. Dance is an expressive way to people embedded in it, afloat. connect with the music and should ideally be tolerated in all spaces where musicians perform. Kennen Zeigler-Sungur’s radio show No Apologies Necessary shares To stay connected with the community during quarantine, Zeigler- Wednesdays between 2:30 pm-3:30 pm. There’s still unexpected Sungur, with the help of his friend and videographer, hosted semi- obstacles that may make hosting online shows near to impossible, acoustic, short length shows from his intimate home studio. Be Wells like Facebook’s update which blocks musicians from sharing and live Sessions is in collaboration with 100.5 FM CO-OP Radio, as part streaming their music. Right now, however, that’s not something he’s of the 2020 Virtual ArtsWells Festival—connecting people in film, worried about. “Creative people are good at figuring out different musicians and other performers. Musicians gather in the studio with ways of doing things, and in those problems where there is a challenge their gear, after forsaking practicing over the past few months, to take sometimes, it creates new opportunities to do different things.” He a moment to bounce back into rhythm. Jen Davidson boldly plays leans back and pauses for a moment; it’s an interlude of quiet much the saxophone, while Mary Matheson softly strums the guitar while like the halls of venues around the city.“Sometimes, that only benefits singing brassy folk melodies about whiskey next to her. Bigger bands the establishment, which isn’t always great.” play in the backyard to adhere to social distancing guidelines. Missy D performs a sultry acoustic rendition against mandala tapestry and prayer flags draped against the house.
“Going to shows [makes] you feel normal,” said Zeigler-Sungur, reminiscing. COVID pushed creatives to focus more on documenting their local music scene through audio and visual recording.“Through cataloging, there is a lot of value for the growth of our unique culture on the West Coast,” he said. Readers interested in watching performances videotaped from the Virtual ArtsWells Festival can access them through CO-OP Concerts, a catalogue of fifteen artists from a variety of genres. Wise Hall will make it out alive. interviews with Canadian musicians, airing on CRFO 100.5 FM
UNMASKED
Meet Stardust Mega, ChibiTifa and Nyx Wolff, where the art of wearing costumes is a way of life. This #Blacktober, we’re exploring the creativity and power of Black cosplay
SARAH ROSE Features Editor VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator
It’s 2005 and a young girl in New York City is flitting from the TV to the family Gateway computer to watch episodes of Sailor Moon and Dragonball Z. Afterwards, she’ll spend hours searching for photos of her favourite characters to print out and paste into a vmosaic in her notebook. The thumbnails of various animated heroes and magical girls filling the screen begin to transform into something different: real people. Fifteen years ago, in the family computer room behind an old notebook and CRT monitor, Stardust Megu discovered cosplay, and the power clothing has to transform us.
A portmanteau of ‘costume play’, cosplay is a type of performance art that began in 1939 in the same city Stardust Megu stumbled upon it. Although the practice has exploded, with international popularity since its inception, the ethos of the medium has always been the same: who do you want to be?
Today, Stardust Megu could be anyone. One of her favourite personas is Yoko Littner, the tough, redheaded gunslinger from Tengen Toppa Gurren Lagann. Other days, she’s in the iconic green bodysuit and fire engine red bracers of assassin clone-turned-secret service operative Cammy White aka ‘Killer Bee’ from Street Fighter. Stardust Megu is an award-winning cosplayer who regularly becomes Sailor Mercury, Joseph Joestar, Junko Enoshima and hundreds of others. For the middle-school-aged girl in her family computer room that she used to be, it was a different story: “I wanted to do [cosplay] so badly, but was scared to because of the extreme bullying I went through prior. I thought that because I’m both Black (darker skinned) and plus-sized that I wouldn’t look good as the characters.”
The curious kids of today are still sitting in front of their computers, seeing their beloved characters brought to life. Yet, one of the most frequently asked questions related to cosplay on Google is: “Can I cosplay if I’m Black?” Cosplayers like Stardust Megu, Nyx Wolff and ChibiTifa believe something so intrinsic shouldn’t be questioned at all. One thing each of them shares is not only a love for the artform, but a fastidious belief that cosplay is for everyone.
In another country and another time, Neil Diamond also has something in common with the childhood of Stardust Megu. Rather than a Gateway computer, the Cree filmmaker grew up watching films like The Searches in front of a TV. First, with the unsettling feeling of rooting for the cowboys, and later wanting to play a cowboy in games of cowboys and Indians. Although these films depicted people who looked like him, they weren’t anything like him at all, because what they embody is a white myth. In his documentary Reel Injun, Diamond explores a century of Indigenous portrayals in cinema to unravel the Injun as it was created by white filmmakers for white audiences. Through thousands of hours of footage of people like John Wayne battling Indians, white Hollywood defined for the world what representations of Indigenous people are supposed to be in the dominant hegemony, not what they are.
What Diamond and Black cosplayers alike urge us to recognize is that representation comes with responsibility. Black heroes and characters need to be written with intent; their race is a central aspect to their character. It’s not as straightforward as choosing a different skin tone, which either intentionally or otherwise, results in white creators painting a new shade of white over ideas of what a superhero is—and what a Black superhero should be. “You are looking at representations crafted by white supremacy… It’s not actually Black people you are looking at.” That’s Rachel Dolezal, a white woman who pretended to be a Black, African American history professor.
Eyes cast towards the horizon, framed by graceful curls of chin length dusty lavender hair grazing the collar of a turquoise rococo gown is ChibiTifa—she’s Anthy Himemiya from Revolutionary Girl Utena. “It means so much to me,” she shares, “Anthy Himemiya was my very first cosplay.” For a girl who never felt like she belonged to a fan community, discovering cosplay fifteen years ago was the lifeline where ChibiTifa made not just costumes but life-long friends. Despite struggling with anxiety and depression, becoming Anthy for an afternoon feels like a beacon of joy and self-expression in the way that costumes help conquer traumatizing parts of adolescence. “Every time I finish a costume and try it on for the first time, I feel a sense of euphoria knowing that I can become my favorite characters despite my race and skin tone … We are here and have always been.”
The first Black superhero featured as a protagonist and titular character of a comic book in 1972 was Luke Cage. Imagining him as white comes with a pervasive unease, a sense of loss—Because Luke
Cage could never be white. His story is a direct reference to the way the government imprisons and abuses Black bodies. Painting over him with a white brush erases the meaning behind his identity. Black Panther and Storm could never be white because their Blackness is who they are—the king of an African nation that’s never been conquered by colonialism and the descendant of an ancient line of African priestesses.
Behind #Blacktober and many of the cosplays worn by Stardust Megu, ChibiTifa and Nyx Wolf is the principle of racebending; changing the ethnicity of a character from one medium to another. It’s more than skin deep—there’s power in urging audiences to look beneath the surfaces of canon. “I have been told that “’x’ character isn’t Black” or even worse, the “n-word” version of a character,” said ChibiTifa. Nyx Wolff shares how she’s received comments ranging from fat shaming to racism. For Stardust Megu, racist harassment has happened so many times she’s lost track: “People always tell me that I'm “too dark” or “too fat” whenever I post my cosplays.” When ChibiTifa cosplayed Soul Caliber IV’s Ivy Valentine in 2019, she anticipated accusations of “ruining” the classic video game protagonist, not the phenomenal amount of praise she received instead. “I was surprised when many people told me that they actually wished Ivy was a Black woman because I portrayed her so well.”
“When just about every superhero or characters in TV shows and cartoons are white, it definitely affects the way Black people view ourselves. Since we aren’t shown mostly in a positive light, or rarely at all, we tend to think that we aren’t as important as our white counterparts,” shared ChibiTifa. Stardust Megu loves the joy and creativity from seeing fellow Black cosplayers doing their own versions of lighter skinned characters. “Little kids are like, ‘wow, you’re my favourite character!’” Recounts Nyx Wolff, “they just gush and tell you how much that character means, and [that] they didn’t know the character can look like them.”
It's a scene that could be lifted straight from anyone’s childhood fairytale: The eponymous hood and cape of Nyx Wolff as Red Riding Hood blankets her body in a cascade of deep crimson, framed beneath the waif-like limbs of a weeping willow. For Nyx Wolf, cosplay is about comfort. “It’s stepping into a character that lets me leave my muggle worries behind and just enjoy the moment more.” Red Riding Hood is one of her favourite cosplays, along with Maleficent, which she chooses specifically for the comfort of accommodating the unpredictable nature of her disability. She also incorporates her cane into many of her costumes.
Conventions, however, are not a fairytale space, despite what those who engage in the culture might want to believe. There is still a notion of otherness, still clinging to the same hierarchies of oppression perpetuated by mainstream culture writ large. Cosplay is a reflection on some level of pop culture rooted in eurocentrism and anti-Blackness, and it’s been normalized and capitalized on for years. New York Comic Con routinely brings in more than 100 million dollars to the city’s local economy. The massive capital generated by conventions is used as justification for upholding the structures built to support hierarchies of systemic oppression therein.
ChibiTifa explains how Black cosplayers are rarely invited to conventions on the presumption that there’s no audience for them, or worse yet, they won’t sell tickets. “It’s disheartening to hear that, especially since we work just as hard on our cosplays as the ones who are constantly invited.” Although Nyx Wolff hasn’t been invited as a guest, she’s thankful for the opportunities she’s had to speak at several sold-out panels. Stardust Megu is hopeful that one day she’ll be invited to a convention like New York Comic Con as a guest, but she acknowledges how difficult it is for Black cosplayers to get guest spots. It’s a struggle that only grows exponentially for those who are darker skinned, plus-sized, LGBTQ or disabled folx. “We have to push even harder than everyone else, and even more than fellow Black cosplayers for opportunities,” she shared.
“The unbearable whiteness of fandom won’t change without tangible effort by white people committed to changing it.” Writes Talynn Kel in The Establishment. “Racism is a conscious choice that’s become the white noise of American culture, and addressing it takes conscious effort to disrupt how white people see the world.”
In the same way Diamond grapples with the bifurcation of Injun and Indigenous, Black cosplayers are constantly in a bilingual dialogue with their other. They’re alive, in a collective society of material perspective speaking through the memories associated with them. The costume each artist creates is not a blank canvas ready to be worn by anyone, it’s made for them. There is an intentional precision in material, in their social, economic and historic reason for being.
The appeal of superheroes is woven into the ambiguity of identity in the shape of a cape and a mask. When we watch Spiderman soaring through the skyscrapers of inner-city New York, there’s a lingering thought and a held breath, could that be someone like me? Yet, when the mask comes off, it’s always Peter Parker, another white nerd. 2019’s Into The Spiderverse introduced Miles Morales—An Afro-Latinx teenager from East Harlem—and for the first time, Spiderman’s story is different from Peter’s. It’s Miles’ day-to-day life, like navigating being a new student in a predominantly white charter school, that speaks to the shared experience of many kids in NYC. Kids who’ve never seen their story told before, or a name like Morales associated with heroism. Miles’ Blackness redefines what it means to be Spiderman. “I think that’s why Black Panther meant so much, [as well as] Into The Spiderverse. We deserve to see ourselves in stories, and heroes [who have] tech, powers and excellence,” said Nyx Wolff.
Whether doing cosplay or getting dressed in the morning, we embody a plural of identities, each constructed and labeled like layers of fabric on a dress. There’s an almost ritualistic, religious-like reverence in the act of weaving together a costume, but the truth is costumes themselves have no secret powers. The hard work and intent behind the many personas of Stardust Megu, ChibiTifa and Nyx Wolff is in boldly embodying a different reality where people of colour own the centerfolds. In rematerializing restrictive narratives of what power and heroes can be, cosplay is more than wearing a costume—it’s permission to occupy space.
In the words of Ororo Munroe, “I am a woman, a mutant, a thief, an X-Men, a lover, a wife, a Queen. I am all these things. I am Storm, and for me, there are no such things as limits.”
To see more of their work, follow the artists on social media: @ChibiTifa, @Stardust_Megu and @badwolfreigns
Emma Sato @emmasato
Anna Tsybulnyk @whada99
Nothing To Prove
Policing access to nerd culture through gatekeeping and harassment creates real harm for women, and nerd culture as a whole
SARAH ROSE Features Editor LOGAN DAVID Illustrator
I’ll never forget the first time someone called me a man. I was four, and had just gotten my long hair chopped into a pixie cut for summer. My dad took one look at me after leaving the salon and with utter disappointment, asked, “why do you look like a boy?” Fast forward to Christmas 2008. I’m fifteen, and I can barely wait to use my first gaming computer that I spent months begging for. I plug in my headset and log in to my favourite online game, only to meet a chorus of: “fat bitch,” “slut,” “ugly man whore.” I unplug my headphones. What I learned all those years ago is that the worst thing I could possibly be to men was someone who looked like them.
Nerd culture, at least the one that’s packaged and sold by pop culture, has always had an emphasis on male whiteness. Which should come as no surprise since pop culture—like all mainstream things—reflects dominant hegemonies. From STEM to filmmaking, and everything in between, whether explicitly or implicitly, those who exist outside the accepted hegemony are told they are not wanted here. Yet, there’s a strange and pervasive cultural mythos woven into the fabric of geekdom that geek girls are like unicorns—rare, mythical creatures that couldn’t possibly be real when that is the opposite of the truth.
One would think people who believe they are the world’s leading experts in nerd culture would know the names of the giant’s shoulders they stand on. Like Rebecca Heineman, the winner of the first ever video game tournament in 1980 or Stevie “KillCreek” Case, the first esports player ever signed to the Cyberathlete Professional League in 1997. How about Terri Brosius, the voice and occasional writer behind many award-winning games like every System Shock and Thief title from the nineties up to now. Mayim Bialik is probably the closest we’ve ever gotten to a real Dana Scully.
That’s precisely the rub—gatekeepers idolize, sometimes simultaneously fetishize, the fictional embodiments of not just female empowerment but also Black joy, disabled and LGBT representation. While at the same time, there’s little to no emphasis on the same real-life ‘outsiders’ that built the foundations of the very kingdom of nerd culture that gatekeepers feel so compelled to protect.
Nerds are supposed to root for the outsider, for heroes who are celebrated precisely because they don’t fit into conventional notions of heroism. Not just when they’re fictional like Buffy Summers, Miles Morales or Kate Kane, but real people, too.
It’s been over a decade since I got my first gaming computer. I don’t have it anymore, although I’ve built a few others since then. These days when I hit the lobby in a game like Battlegrounds, turning on the chat feature is still always a potential invitation for harassment— but I don’t stay quiet. The first time I unplugged my headphones was also the last. That’s not to say I tolerate abuse - rather I call out and mute the insecure people pretending they hold the keys to my happiness and acceptance. They’re the ones who need to be muted, not me. I’m not a professional, or even particularly great, but I don’t have to be. It doesn’t matter. It never did, because I already know I belong here, and I have nothing to prove.
A Tale of Two Justice Systems? Facts vs. Fiction:
Both women lied to obtain education for their children— but their circumstances differ
HASSAN MERALI Contributor CHRISTINE WEI Illustrator
A meme circulating the internet attempts to compare two American prison sentences for seemingly similar offences. On one side is Felicity Huffman, a rich white actress, who received a 14-day sentence for paying $15,000 to boost her daughter’s SAT scores as part of the college admissions scandal. On the other side is Tanya McDowell, a Black woman sentenced to a minimum five-year jail term for multiple charges—including lying about her address so her son could attend a better school in a neighbouring district.
On the face of it, the viral meme seems to provide a perfect example of racial and economic disparities in the American criminal justice system. But the details of the two cases paint a more complex picture of issues at the heart of ongoing public debates about race, wealth, education, and justice.
It’s worth examining the difference in charges between the two women. Felicity Huffman pleaded guilty to conspiring to commit mail fraud and honest services mail fraud. She was sentenced to 14 days in jail, 250 hours of community service, and a $30,000 fine. Tanya McDowell reached a plea bargain with prosecutors for seven charges against her, including selling drugs to undercover officers and larceny for lying about her address—which police said was stealing over $15,000 in funds from Norwalk School District. The plea bargain resulted in a 12-year suspended sentence, serving five years in jail, plus five on probation.
When examining the charges, it’s notable that past convictions are taken into account during sentencing. Huffman has no prior criminal record, and her charges were for nonviolent crimes. McDowell had previous convictions for bank robbery and possession of a pistol. Finally, Huffman was convicted by a federal court in California, while McDowell was tried in Connecticut Superior Court. While the cases appear dissimilar, diving deeper into the systemic issues surrounding race and justice in America reveals that the issues the meme raised are real.
There are well-documented racial disparities in the American criminal justice system stemming from the legalized discrimination against Black people from the Jim Crow era. This discrimination is rooted in America’s participation in the Transatlantic slave trade and chattel slavery.
Sixty-six years after Brown v. Board of Education, the American public school system has not completely desegregated because of how it’s structured. Public schools are funded by municipal taxes. Cities and suburbs are still largely segregated from decades of discriminatory housing policies, redlining—the denial of services from public and private sector institutions to residents based on their neighbourhood—and underfunding of public programs that affect minority populations more than whites.
While Black people can no longer be owned or legally discriminated against, services are too often denied to individuals and communities based on their wealth or the political power, which are still tied to zip code and race. A rich, white celebrity like Huffman, whose net worth is in the tens of millions of dollars, is able to hire top lawyers and pay a $30,000 fine easily. Her layers of privilege have allowed her to find high paying work and live in communities that are not overpoliced, as many Black neighbourhoods are. Kelly Williams-Bolar, a Black single mother in Ohio, was convicted solely of lying to send her kids to a neighbouring school district and received the same $30,000 fine. Unlike Huffman, she couldn’t pay it, and was handed a five-year sentence that was suspended after serving 10 days in jail. Williams-Bolar fled her abusive ex and was splitting her time between her own place—which had been broken into—and her father’s house, whose address she used to enroll her two daughters in a neighbouring school district.
People of colour face higher rates of poverty than white people. We’ve seen how racially motivated law enforcement in the United States tends to be—POC already know this, but others are finally starting to see it. The way that the justice system treats marginalized communities is evidenced by cases like McDowell and WilliamsBolar. This demonstrates that the legacy of racial discrimination is inherently linked to wealth, access to education, and justice in modern America.
A Look in the Mirror:
Oppressed or just distressed?
MEGAN AMATO Contributor TALIA ROUK Illustrator
I was lying in bed the other night scrolling through my Instagram stories when I came across a story by non-binary Black political creative @Sassy_Latte that made me pause. Sassy found that their posts are “tone policed” by white women, meaning that these women often use their own emotions to invalidate Sassy’s sentiments and lived experiences. Repeatedly, white women will use spiritual bypassing—using spirituality or religion to gaslight or to suppress—or “we are all in this together” narratives to dismiss their voice. Sassy concluded that white women often have this driving need to centre themselves by pulling the victim card in their own supposed oppression. Sassy challenges this: Who exactly is oppressing white women other than white women themselves?
There are many “whataboutisms” often weaponized by white women whenever Black folk speak out about racism and oppression—and even when they are not talking about it at all—that bring up the history of how white men have oppressed women and how we all “need to stick together.” However, these kinds of conversations centre white feminism and white experiences, when BIPOC, and predominantly Black and Indigenous women, have faced the same violence from white men— and white women—while simultaneously facing other systems of oppression. This holds the opposite for us white women, who benefit from the same systems of white supremacy that oppress women of colour (WOC).
Sexism affects white women differently than it affects WOC. Not only does white-centric feminism drive the discussion around women’s liberation, it also co-opts movements created to highlight issues surrounding BIPOC. In doing so, we talk over WOC voices in the socalled effort to uplift women. There is a reason that the name Karen has become synonymous with an entitled white woman—Time and time again, white women have often developed a victim mentality when excluded. Refusal is not oppression.
On their Instagram post, @Sassy_Latte wrote that white women “don’t even understand oppression. They understand discomfort.” This is not to say that the patriarchy isn’t a problem; cis-male violence is indeed an issue in our society. Yes, white men discredit white women by using their emotions against them—but Black women aren’t often allowed to be emotional without being labelled as angry and/or dangerous. The way the patriarchy treats WOC is inherently more violent than the way it treats white women—Indigenous women are still being sterilized against their will in Canada.
White women who continue to uphold these oppressive systems are upholding white supremacy. The reality is that we have benefited from this oppression for hundreds of years, and we don’t want to let go of it—we don’t want to be treated the way BIPOC are treated. The longer we can keep the blindfold of oppression on, the longer we can use it as an excuse when we are called out. If we admit to creating our own oppression, we would have to admit our own role in allowing white supremacy to oppress BIPOC and other marginalized identities. To be free of the patriarchy we have to dismantle the systems that uphold white supremacy. We need to place WOC and other marginalized folks at the forefront of feminist movements, and stop being the victims of our own creation.
The Politics of Phone Plans
Canada is in the dark ages when it comes to data plan prices
WEN ZHAI Contributer
One of the biggest culture shocks I’ve had when moving to Canada was during my search for a mobile service provider. When researching data plans, I noticed frustration surrounding the high cost of phone and internet packages. Each company representative assured me they provided the most reasonable options, but I felt like I was in a time machine. Why are phone plans so expensive? I thought Canada was a developed country.
In July, the Canadian government announced that ‘the big 3’—Bell, TELUS and Rogers— will be expected to lower their prices by 25 per cent in the next two years, but only for plans ranging from 2 to 6 GB of data. I may not be an expert on the Canadian telecom industry, but this is an interesting decision. Who is the audience for these price cuts, and why were they chosen over other groups?
In China, I wasn’t worried about using data because I had never exceeded the limit each month. Now, I can barely afford smaller service plans anyways. I can no longer stream videos, lectures or shop online when waiting for the bus or on the go.
That was before the pandemic. When we started online classes, changing my phone plan was among the first few things that I did to adjust to the foreseeable financial hardship— but the cheapest plan wasn’t cheap at all. Why has nothing changed?
According to a 2016 FCC study that looked at the costs and speed of mobile data across 28 countries, streaming an hour of video in Canada cost $16.48 CAD—the most expensive on the list—but only $0.56 CAD to stream the same amount in Italy. Maintaining expensive data packages is a sure way to see instant revenue. Government policies account for up to 16 percent of the cost.
With the public’s increasing reliance on mobile data, it’s only fair to demand that Ottawa provides the rationale behind reducing the cost of medium-sized plans. The Canadian government needs to understand that the financial pressure Canadians have been under due to the pandemic is only increased by high phone plan prices.
While the announcement seemed helpful at first glance, a 25 per cent decrease for mediumsized plans does nothing for consumer concerns—especially when affected plans will likely be discontinued by the time this policy is in effect. This form of ‘aid’ is lost on consumers that heavily rely on large data packages. At a time when online activities are at a high, Canadians need support reflective of the times—not misleading information.
Why True Crime Needs to Stop Treating Trauma as Entertainment
There is money to be made talking about murder. But what’s the real cost?
CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts and Culture Editor JOHN PACHKOWSKY Illustrator
In August, beauty blogger Bailey Sarian passed two million subscribers on her YouTube channel. Her main series is a weekly installment called “Murder Mystery & Makeup,” where Sarian does her makeup and tells her viewers about a real life murder case. Her following of millions is profitable—Social Blade, a social media statistics website, puts her monthly earnings between $10,000 and $162,000.
True crime has been a popular genre since the Victorian era, but its popularity today has magnified due to easy and free access to podcasts and YouTube videos. The way we consume true crime cases should be repeatedly called into question due to the inherent exploitative nature of reporting gruesome events and profiting off them.
The true crime industry is largely made up of people who like to hear about and solve crimes, and this can easily turn into disrespecting the wishes of the victim’s family or interrupting their privacy. In the famous Black Dahlia case, a picture of the victim’s dead body is the most popular enduring image. Additionally, the last video of Elisa Lam alive has millions of views—it is often used to scare people with Lam’s ‘odd behaviors,’ which were largely due to her bipolar disorder.
The continual profiting off of true crime is another question of morality; a true crime podcast like Last Podcast on the Left has a Patreon that earns them over $66,000 a month, and My Favourite Murder, one of the most popular true crime podcasts at the moment, reportedly made over $15 million dollars in 2020 according to Forbes. These podcasts have not made public whether they regularly donate to domestic violence organizations or any sort of victim legal fund. Additionally, CrimeCon, a convention focused solely on true crime, amassed a crowd of over 3,600 people in their 2019 season at 200 USD a head. As it stands, these people and events profit entirely off of telling their audiences about someone else’s gruesome murder.
Some fans cite the stories as warnings and examples of what not to do during a confrontation. The overwhelming majority of true crime fans are educated white women, according to this 2018 survey by Kelli Boling. While true crime can be a fun way to solve a mystery that has a real-life element of unpredictability, what gets the most attention in true crime circles are the disappearances or murders of young white women. Other more vulnerable populations, like Indigenous and black trans women, rarely get airtime or exposure.
I enjoy true crime. But I think that the true crime genre should evolve more into advocacy-based productions, and away from exploiting dead bodies for curiosity. The continual exploitation through overexposure of victims must stop in order for true crime to be a morally defensible genre. There must be accountability for the people earning the most to donate regularly to organizations that will help prevent further true crime cases like the ones they discuss, and there needs to be a shift away from pretending each true crime case is reported in totality with little bias.
Between Two Gods
Despite convincing ourselves they're opposites, science and religion both draw from the same proverbial fires of sacrificial madness
SARAH ROSE Features Editor THEA PHAM Illustrator
– Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace.
My eyes rested against the orange light of the campfire in an otherwise oppressive darkness, watching it seep like water into my heart, creating soft lines on my face, warming my body with gentle heat. We sipped beer and gazed at the immensity of a moon too huge to be real, reflected in the glittering lake and our own dinner-platesized pupils. It’s as overwhelming as falling in love, all the lightness and warmth in the cosmos pouring into me like the center of the world. Eventually, we laid down in our sleeping bags under the velvet blue bowl of the sky, but I’m still gazing at the impossible diamond glitter of the Milky Way—inside the four walls of a tent.
I leaned outside the door and vomited a slurry of magic mushrooms and beer—afterall, I’d just glimpsed the very origin of human religion.
“Impossibility is the door of the supernatural. We can but knock at it. It is someone else who opens.” That’s nineteenth century French philosopher and mystic Simone Weil, who preferred to have her moments of impossibility inside of a church rather than a tent while high on magic mushrooms. Those experiences aren’t as far from each other as we’re led to believe.
There’s mounting research from those such as anthropologist Wade Davis that mind-altering drug experiences are, in fact, the origins of human religion itself. In The Psychedelic Gospels, authors Jerry and Julie Brown claim that a not insignificant amount of medieval Christian art and manuscripts feature imagery of psychoactive mushrooms. Inside the Neolithic Mind by archaeologist David Lewis-Williams argues that hallucinogenic drugs formed the entire basis of Neolithic religion. Terrance McKenna’s ‘stoned ape’ theory in Food of the Gods was the first proposition that psilocybin brought even earlier hominids “out of the animal mind and into the world of articulated speech and imagination.”
Although McKenna was roughly two decades early from having the resources to prove it, it’s now a scientific fact that psilocybin —the psychoactive component of magic mushrooms—alters consciousness and triggers physical changes in the brain. Casting off the modern moralistic codes surrounding drugs reveals his greatest insight: the story of humankind is inseparably intertwined with our fascination for the psychoactive.
Science has—despite many of its pronouncements— tended to be implicitly agnostic, even theist, rather than strictly atheistic. There’s unreliable evidence for the effectiveness of religious-based treatments for substance use disorders, yet the opposite is true for (the limited studies of) psilocybin.
Simone Weil’s entire body of work is connective tissue latticed between the interstices of supposed opposites like science, art, God and humans. Often described as ‘the patron saint of outsiders,” she, and other kindred spirits such as Nietzsche and McKenna, understood that dialects like ‘science’ and ‘religion’ are two languages used to converse with the same invisible being.
Nietzsche unabashedly attacked Enlightenment ideals placing science as the champion of truth and belief. The passion and absolute conviction that depict the approach to science is, to Nietzsche, just evidence of the fact we’ve created a religion from science itself: “It’s always a metaphysical belief on which our belief in science rests. [We] still take our fire from the conflagration kindled by a belief a millennium old, the Christian belief, which was also the belief of Plato, that God is truth and that the truth is divine.”
From the Bill Nye-Ken Ham debate, to a 2003 Shroomery forum post about ‘the LSD thumbprint,’ this principle plays out today in almost precisely the way Nietzsche described. The origins of divine human truth are just various ways to converse with the unknowable, whether inside a church, a microscope, or a cap of amanita muscaria. “You’re never the same again. A thumbprint doesn’t open the door of perception, it blows it off the hinges. LSD is a direct message from God. Period.”
AnaÏs Bayle @anaisbayle_art
Back Home: Here We Go Again
VALERIA VELAZQUEZ Columnist
Twenty-four hours have passed since I got home. Twenty-four hours of being back in the place my heart was longing for so long. Saying goodbye to my friends back in Vancouver was bittersweet; they have become my new home, but I knew I needed to revisit my old one.
In my last few hours in Vancouver, I began questioning if maybe I should just come for two months instead of four, if staying at my parents’ house was a good idea and if returning was something I actually wanted. I was unsure, but I still took the plane to Mexico anyway. I mean, I’m already here, aren’t I?
Following your heart’s desires can be scary. Not because you don’t want them, but because of the uncertainty surrounding them. In my case, the uncertainty doesn’t come from the place I’m at or the people I’m here to see. I already know them; my city, my family, my friends. The insecurity I’m feeling comes from the new dynamic that will take place between us. I believe I’ve grown and changed as a person. Therefore, I don’t know how things are going to unfold, and that scares me.
When I was in Vancouver I felt ready. I’d been taking the past few months to get centered and grounded. I was preparing myself mentally and emotionally to come back to Mexico and deal with situations of injustice in a more mature way, in a way where I’d be understood. I thought I’d be able to talk about feminism, homophobia, racism and social inequity among other prevalent issues in my society, and that I’d be heard. Shortly after I arrived, I realized that we can prepare ourselves all we want, but we never know what an experience is going to be like until we live it. These past 24 hours have been a rollercoaster of emotions. From the moment I arrived at the airport, I could tell being here was going to be more complicated than I thought. Not even five minutes had passed when I noticed the beastly looks several men were shamelessly giving two women walking by. The young women were just wearing shorts, yet the men were looking at them like hungry lions staring at a piece of meat. I felt disgusted.
I couldn’t help but think of the many times this has happened to me. Not only walking on the streets, but also at restaurants, bars, malls, parks—even in my own home, when strange men are there. These looks make me feel uncomfortable, unsafe, and in the past, they made me feel guilty.
I felt guilty because I thought that I was provoking them because of the way I was dressed. I thought maybe if I didn’t wear shorts or skirts or show cleavage, they wouldn’t look at me anymore. I thought, that way, I’d stop feeling threatened. The thing is, no matter what you wear or where you are in Mexico, you’re not safe as a woman.
According to the National System of Public Safety of Mexico, from January to July of 2019, there were 2,171 femicides. This year, even with the confinement measures due to the COVID-19 pandemic, the murders increased. Within the same timeframe of January to July, the number of women killed increased to 2,240.
I think that the reason why the situation in Mexico is like this is because of the deeplyrooted patriarchy in the culture. The phrases I used to hear growing up come to mind. “You have to cook for us because you are the woman.” “You can’t do this because I’m your father, the head of this house, and I say so.” “ You’ll never find a boyfriend with that attitude and those looks.”
It seemed like as a woman, no matter what I did, my only purpose was to please and serve men. My dad, as much as I love him, is the main person that made me feel this way. Nevertheless, my mom and the rest of the people in my family also contributed to the perpetuation of these patterns, attitudes, and ways of thinking.
The moment I saw those men looking at the women in the airport, I remembered the reason why I went to Canada in the first place. I was tired of not being understood, seen or valued as a human being. I was tired of feeling diminished, controlled and abused. I was angry and exhausted, and I didn’t want to be anymore.
Living in Vancouver I learned a lot. I realized that I wasn’t crazy and that there were actual reasons that made me feel this way. But I’ve been proved (as I do time and time again when I come home) that the feeling of being centered, grounded and happy within myself can be taken away from me in the snap of a finger. Not because I don’t want to be, but because my circumstances and my environment don’t allow me to be.
After the initial moment of happiness from seeing my family again for the first time in over a year, it struck me again. The first comment I heard coming out of my grandma’s mouth was, “You should put on a bra, I cannot believe you traveled like that.” It was 27 degrees and I was wearing a white crop top and jeans. All I could think was, damn, here we go again.
Coast to Coast: An Ontarian Introduction to Prayer
ALDEN WALLACE MACKAY Columnist
The land between the Rockies and Ontario flashlight at the ground just past the ends of is like one vast yellow sea, so flat on the my boots. How long would I be walking for? horizon you can see the sky falling with the Four hours? Six? I didn’t have any cell service curve of earth. You can see weather systems either, just a cliff bar. It was a cold night in on the horizon, grain silos and fallen barns, Northern Ontario, but I was sweating hard. and you can drive for hours along gravel highways without seeing another car. It’s After about another hour, a truck came up the harsh land, this country, and a lot of it. But road and I waved it down. The driver slowed in my mind this only meant that there was to a halt and rolled her window down only hardly anywhere to camp. I spent nights about a quarter of the way. Her daughter was sleeping in parking lots in towns that still in the passenger seat and they both studied had snow on the ground in June, or else I me as if I were some alien creature. slept in my car parked alongside wheatfields. Finally, I decided that I’d had enough of the “Yes?” she said. Prairies and in one day I drove clear through “I’m having something of an emergency here,” Manitoba into Ontario. I said, and quickly explained to them what When night fell, I arrived at Kenora, Ontario. had happened. I found Wi-Fi at a Tim Horton’s, googled “Aw hell,” she said. “Get in.” ‘free campsites near me’ and found one about an hour north at Silver Lake. I took Highway 671, and as I drove I dreamt of spending a few days at this lake, reading and swimming and relaxing. I wasn’t even bothered by the fact that my gas tank was on reserve and my phone only had ten percent battery. They were residents of Grassy Narrows, the terminus of Highway 671. They drove me to where they thought I could get cell service, and I was able to make a phone call to a towing company based in Kenora, but the operator told me that they wouldn’t do any towing this late at night. They said, “Call Well, I cut off the main road and down along us back in the morning.” I felt defeated an old settler’s trail which would lead to Silver and I didn’t want to bother the women any Lake. The trail was very old—probably pre- longer, so I decided that I’d just go back to confederation—and the car I was driving my vehicle and figure something out in the was a sedan. The whole way down I felt like I morning. It had been a long day. was on a boat in stormy weather. I could hear rocks scraping up against the underbelly “Do you have a gun?” said the driver’s daughter. and ferns and weeds brushing against the “I do not.” side doors. The Milky Way overhead was “Well you know this is bear country, right?”prominent now. My windows were down and the car was filling with bugs. After about “Seriously?” forty minutes of driving the trail suddenly “Wolves, too. We just saw one on our way up.” turned into sand. My boot was on the gas and the engine was revving hard, but I wasn’t My throat got tight. My eyes were sweating. going anywhere. I was stuck. I had no idea there were bears in Ontario, I packed a bag with whatever I thought I’d goodbye, then began my commute back need for my very long walk back to Kenora down that old settler’s trail. and I left a note on the dash, should any let alone wolves. I thanked the women, said curious soul pass by, explaining that this And I was very scared, more so now that vehicle had not been abandoned. It took my fears were rational. As I walked I heard me over an hour just to walk back up to the snapping in the woods and shone my main road, and the whole way up I shone my flashlight into the trees, throwing shadows at figments of my mania. I tried to keep my mind on nothing but the steps I was taking, but insanity was raging in my skull. There were times when I heard a second set of footsteps, but when I stopped to listen, so did they.
My flashlight flickered, then it died. And then I knew true darkness. All that remained was noise. The enormous din of insects, the calls of animals in the distance, the snapping of twigs in the trees. I walked on, thinking about each step I took.
That night, for the first time in my life, I prayed. I prayed to a god unknown, a god I didn’t believe in. I prayed for deliverance, and I made pledges. There’s humility in prayer, and even talking about prayer, but humility requires the amusement of somebody else, and that night I longed for company. I would’ve loved to be laughed at. I walked thoughtfully, careful not to trip on any roots, and when I made it to my vehicle I curled up on the back seat and instantly fell asleep.
In the morning I climbed a ridge and held my phone high over my head until I found a single bar of service. While swatting mosquitoes and scraping ticks from my ankles, I told the towing company operator all I knew. My phone died mid-conversation, and I waited three hours for somebody to arrive, wondering the whole time if the directions I gave were accurate.
In the end, of course, everything was fine. I got towed back up to the main highway and found someplace else to camp. Who knows what good my prayer did. Probably nothing, but maybe everything. The odds of birth, survival and wellbeing are incalculable, and in response to this uncertainty all one can do is be grateful. I never knew that I was a praying man, and it makes me wonder what else I don’t know about myself. I have tendencies to seek truth through experience, but after that night in Ontario, my desire for adventure would be satisfied for a long time.
Perspectives on the Post-Postmodern: What the F*** is a Sustainable Brand Supposed to be Anyway?
TAMIA THOMPSON Columnist
Sustainability. You've probably seen or heard this term used somewhere recently before. It's the buzzword that took every clothing label by storm the last couple years. It's the suggested direction many Instagram influencers will emptily tell you we should be headed toward. And it's probably the most convoluted topic in fashion at the moment as we struggle to make a foreseeable reality out of what really has yet to be achieved.
The realm that we see this phrase used most often is in our consumption, from our food intake to the clothing we choose to wear. I think it's pretty commonplace to hold out hope that your favourite brands are responsible enough to have at least some transparency, but it’s 2020 and somehow that isn't so simple. With mass-produced clothing companies opening up about their garment manufacturing practices and distancing themselves from labels like "fast fashion," it can be hard to know who's being genuinely upfront with the public.
I spent years digging through thrift stores and raiding consignment shops before becoming tempted once again to buy a fast fashion piece from Uniqlo two winters ago. I scoured the entire store for bargains, and afterwards, the issues with my own purchasing habits would not stop looming over my mind. It took one unshakable Google search for me to become re-enthralled by ideals of real sustainability. I learned that Uniqlo, everyone's go-to for essential basics and designer collabs, has not paid their garment workers in over five years, owing them around $5.5 million in wages. Disturbingly enough, their website has a sustainability page where they talk about their commitments made to better the lives of their factory employees. I couldn't stomach that after years of conscious dedication to buying secondhand, I had been hoodwinked by good marketing—and all it took was a $5 t-shirt.
The word 'sustainable' has been so widely commodified that it's easy to forget it was never meant to be at all. Sustainability in fashion is so much more than a trend for brands to follow or an idea to ascribe to in your Depop bio; it stretches far past consumerism specifically to oust it. Ecological and sociopolitical change are at the root of this movement happening in real-time as climate change conversations dominate much of our daily news. Social media will not have you believe that though, as we continue to watch how green-consciousness is made synonymous with how we spend money, rather than how we conserve and give back.
The Hydro Flask, a water bottle that became a motif for the Gen-Z VSCO and TikTok environmentalist communities, is a prime example of how greenwashing occurs in waves on the apps we use daily. Through influencers, $30-65+ water bottles became just another successful example of a product being peddled to youth as desirable and important to those who publicly care about our planet. There are loads of companies that do this and they do it successfully. But what we fail to recognize by being consumers of eco-friendly trends is that centering buying and branding is the exact opposite of the point.
With the understanding that our material possessions do not make us environmentalists comes the knowledge that sustainability can only work in a radical sense. To create something that sustains is to create something that is self-sufficient and functional while causing no harm to the ecosystem, which includes people. Labels like “cruelty free” or “vegan” only go so far if there are human beings being exploited or deprived of wages. Creating campaigns about diversity and inclusion mean nothing without employee equity and affirmed workers’ rights.
One of the biggest issues in the sustainability movement is how both conservative capitalist and liberal ecological leaders alike commonly ignore all impacts of environmental racism under late capitalism. In fact, lots of the ones we know about are grand advocates for biofuel (gas made from broken-down plant matter and cut-down trees, which is then funneled through pipelines), which is another product being sold to us as the oil industry ‘doing good.’ Personally, finding this connection was alarming for me. People gas up Tesla and Elon Musk for being innovative, when in reality, the production of electric cars batteries might actually be worse for the environment, and especially at such a high price point, Tesla isn’t a progressive company ‘for the people’ the way it’s hyped up to be.
Fighting climate change feels so pessimistic, but these are capitalist inventions being fed to us so we can “save the world,” made by powerful billionaire conglomerates who are doing the most damage, yet ultimately won’t need saving. If we gave half as much attention to environmental activists (like Vandana Shiva, one of the world’s leading advocates for eco-feminism) as we do to certain venture capitalists’ tweets, we would come to collectively see that the only way to go from here is back to our roots.
The solution to our problems with consumption lies precisely in how we consume rather than what we consume. Being particular about the resources that we take from often has more of an impact than simply changing whatever it is that
we’re taking. Just because you wear organic cotton, doesn’t mean it’s actually good for the Earth. Just because you burn Palo Santo and white sage instead of candles, doesn’t mean it’s actually a good idea at all. Home-grown herbs and vegetables taste infinitely better than store-bought organic produce. Just like learning how to make your own clothes and accessories feels cooler and more unique than any piece you could find at a mall or even a thrift store. If you can’t sew, see a local seamstress or tailor around you. Buy from or trade hand-me-downs with your friends. Investing in yourself and your community
as parts of this planet we are all contributing to is ecologically forward-thinking. As we petition our governments to do more about climate change, our best bet for individual action in creating a sustainable future is to buy less and share more. Share knowledge, share goods, and share power.
Maple Syrup Art: Nature as Inspiration
JASON ARKELL-BOLES Columnist
In the age of climate change, feeling terrified for the future is the new norm. Forests burning down, cities flooding, even the sudden mothpocalypse in Vancouver— hopelessness seems to be the trend of the year. However, unreported by social media and the news, new technologies are being produced faster than ever, technologies that can totally redesign the world. Instead of cities living beside nature, cities could become a part of nature. A few weeks ago I watched an episode of the docuseries Abstract: The Art of Design that featured Neri Oxman, a bio-architect and professor at the MIT Media Lab. This lab is a glimpse into the most exciting future none of us thought would exist. A future that’s one with nature. A future that’s plastic-less, pollution-less and maybe even harmless.
The MIT Media Lab represents the perfect intersection of science, engineering, design, art, and nature. With a diverse team of artists and scientists, the lab is venturing into the unexplored field of bio-design: the design of objects inspired by nature. One example, Mushtari, is a 3D-Printed article of clothing filled with synthetic microorganisms that transforms sunlight into consumable sucrose. Another is Aguahoja, an art project that proposes a new, growable, biodegradable material that could someday be a replacement for plastic.
It blew my mind that neuroscience and biology are at the point where humans can grow structures. As Neri Oxman explains in the docuseries, humans are moving from nature-inspired design to design-inspired nature. I couldn’t believe people weren’t talking about this more. Immediately after watching the episode, I began research into bio-design firms within Canada. To both my surprise and disappointment, there isn’t a lot of bio-design present outside of the MIT Media Lab. Throughout Canadian art history, nature has been the muse of several great artists such as Emily Carr and the Group of Seven. While nature has always played a vital role in inspiring the works of Canadian painters, the desire to save and preserve the environment has become a new inspiration for artists. Take musician Grimes’ latest album Anthropocene, Margaret Atwood’s novel MaddAddam, or Brett Story’s documentary The Hottest August. Each project with its own perspective delves into issues of climate change, either based in reality, fiction, or avant-garde fantasy.
In my own films, themes of climate change make it into every script. Even so, an issue for myself and many up-and coming-artists is feeling like we’re unable to incite real, physical change with the art we make. With clouds of wildfire smoke filling the skies, it’s hard for anyone to feel optimistic. In a world so uncontrollable and volatile, artists attempt protests, political works, films—but a true and radical change in society never occurs, leaving many hopeless.
If nature has historically been so important to the artists of Canada, why hasn’t biodesign—a beautiful collaboration of nature and art—been explored here? If humans, in theory, have the means to build inexpensive, organic—essentially utopian—structures and buildings, why haven’t we? I think the answer is a lack of communication between scientists, artists, designers, engineers, and in fact, all academic fields within Canada.
So if artists aren’t able to journey into bioarchitecture, then what has the science department been doing in this regard? The answer: actually a lot. With programs like the Bachelors of Environmental Design and the BioProducts institute popping up at UBC, innovations are happening left and right. This past summer, using locally sourced wood fibers as the core material, the BioProducts Institute recently developed potentially the world’s first biodegradable N95 mask in the heat of a pandemic. But this is an art column, so, where can artists fit into this equation? The answer, I believe, is that artists should be a part of the equation, from start to finish.
My roommate Naomi is one of many design thinkers in the graphics-based IDEA program at Capilano University. In their final year, IDEA has all of its students submit a ‘capstone project,’ which is an opportunity for each student to find a social, political, or environmental issue and solve it through design. This can come in the form of books, apps, ad campaigns, and websites. Naomi is trying to solve the issue of nursing shortages, by inspiring more men to pursue nursing careers.
What these students do is impressive, but it’s hard not to think about what all these artists and designers could do if they were to collaborate with scientists, engineers, architects, and even neuro-surgeons. What if artists in all disciplines didn’t limit themselves to traditional art forms, what if they could begin to create art inspired by nature, by growing art pieces? And on the other end of the spectrum, what if scientists and engineers didn’t have to limit themselves to strictly practical applications of their studies?
The freedom to explore artistic modes of thought can create beautiful objects that communicate artistically with the human body, similar to Mushtari. Through a collaboration of science, engineering, designers, and artists, the potential for projects using just local wood fibers is huge. If artists embrace the nature around them and start hanging out with scientists, engineers and architects, maybe they could truly change the world now, when we need it most.
Ata Ojani
GIANMARCO IUELE Contributer MARK ZIMMER Illustrator
What A Mistake
it would be To step on the neck of a slug To live with the thought of watery leather, skin of my shoe poor terrestrial thing! a shell of former selves asleep where flies eat
a wake where flies eat
I meant you no harm I harmed you, I meant
Eat the Rich
MEGAN AMATO Contributor GERALDINE YARIS Illustrator
Kaia’s eyes followed the shifting shadows of the tree branches silhouetted against the ceiling as they swayed in the moonlight. The silken sheets under her shifted with her every movement, rubbing against her sensitive skin. With every breath, she inhaled in the nauseating scent of Gucci perfume, stale sex and something...else that lingered in the air.
She could feel the fading heat of the bodies sandwiching her; the soft pressure of the woman’s arm draped across her chest, and the coarse hairs from the man’s legs tangled in her own.
Glancing at the couple, she was unsurprised to see the peaceful looks on their faces. Even in death, these kinds of people went unworried. Only the pallor of their faces, the discolouration under their eyes and on half of their faces, and stiff postures of her victims gave away their state of being.
Turning onto her side, she glanced out the large bay windows that opened onto a manicured backyard with the geometric pool that looked onto the hazy ocean. Through the rain, Kaia could faintly make out the coastal mountains and the Two Sisters peaks that loomed in the distance.
She moved her gaze over the male, his large body towering over her even in stillness. He was an average looking white man with a Greek nose, thin firm looking lips, clean-shaven face, and ash-blond hair slicked cut into a neat quiff that must have been regularly maintained. Faint lines framed closed eyes with long eyelashes undoubtedly adored by all genders alike. He looked young for a man claiming to be nearing sixty.
Closing her eyes to the onslaught of images that flashed from the night before, Kaia savoured each memory that led to this moment.
Kaia sipped the wine Edward had ordered for her, savouring the weight of it in her mouth. She watched as the couple moved together, as if one entity rather than two individuals.
“I told you,” he said before looking around for their waiter and snapping his fingers to get his attention. “It’s like nothing you have ever tried before.”
“Eddie,” Claire said, smiling into her own wine. “I’m sure she’s tried a Sassicaia before.” Kaia smiled to herself.
The waiter appeared beside their table, an apparition with dead eyes and a wide smile. “How can I help?”
“Are you a vegetarian?” Edward asked her, barely waiting for the shake of her head before turning to the waiter. “I’ll have the Fiorentina—the chefs know how I like it—and the ladies will both have the Veal Ossobuco.” He turned back to Kaia, his eyes intent. “And another bottle of the 2015 Sassicaia. Keep their glasses full.”
After dinner, as they waited for Edward to bring the car around, she leaned against Claire, taking in her warmth. “You don’t mind being ordered for?”
Claire gave her a confused smile, her eyes unfocused as she leaned closer to Kaia. “Why would I? Eddie always knows best.”
She turned over to examine Claire now, her eyes tracing a face that was at least twenty years younger than her husband but just as clinically maintained: the golden beach waves, bee sting pout, high cheekbones, Nubian nose and milky blemish-free skin. But Kaia could see the things that couldn’t be hidden: the sun damage beneath the layers of skin, the frown lines that couldn’t be erased.
Kaia shouldn’t judge. Her youth may not come from the deft hand of a cosmetic surgeon—well, there was that one plastic surgeon from Los Angeles a few years ago, but that’s another story. She stole her youth from folk’s bodies rather than through injections and incisions into her own. It wasn’t her place to judge others’ choices when it came to their bodies, even if she did play judge, jury and executioner. She turned on her side to study Edward again, laying her head on her hands as she studied his profile.
Kaia had browsed the dating website until she matched with someone who had been searching for a “naughty” young woman in her twenties interested in a threesome with an older married couple—and they’d offered her an obscene amount of cash if she would be willing to sub. ‘Unicorn’ hunting is a popular pastime for bored couples searching for a mythical,
fetishized creature to use and discard like an old toy the second they become too human. Kaia almost laughed. This ‘unicorn’ certainly wasn’t human.
She had agreed—they were exactly who she had been looking for, of course she was. She would have said yes even without the cash incentive, but a demon had to eat.
Sighing, she leaned over to place a soft kiss on Claire’s lips before lifting the woman’s arm from her chest—or trying to. It was a lot stiffer than she expected. After nearly breaking the woman’s arm, she freed herself to shimmy down the bed, hopping onto plush cream carpets that enveloped her feet.
Usually, when the demon in Kaia needed to be fed, she only needed a sip here and there from an unsuspecting fellow who had the misfortune to cast their avaricious eyes her way. Only from the rich and wealthy—there was no point in stealing from the poor. Other times the ravenous thing within, inflamed by the insatiability in others, would take control, and just a few sips would no longer be enough. Wealthy unicorn hunters fit that parameter well. She enjoyed watching the slow loss of their colour as they pleasured her, the resulting lack of fluidity in their movements as she returned the favour.
Kaia sighed again, a deep one that filled her poor lungs with the foulness of the room before she released it. She glanced around the spacious room decorated tastefully with modern monochrome furnishings pretending to be minimalist. Finding her purse and dress folded neatly on a stiff-looking white chair, she pulled her phone from a pocket.
Opening her dating app, she scrolled until she found the message she was waiting for: “Will tomorrow work? Greg and I are thrilled to meet you!”
Kaia smiled. “Perfect.”
Virgo Aug. 24 - Sept. 23 Reorganize your wardrobe with winter in mind. You're too good for last minute shopping. I know you're not keen on spending, but you put in good work last month and deserve a treat. Window shop for cheap vintage stuff online and do your best not to get scammed.
scorpio Oct. 24 - Nov. 22 Congratulations on making that decision to never back down from a staring contest to assert your dominance with strangers. Genuinely hope that's going well for you. One of your ruling planets, Mars, is retrograde until early November so you'll be retracing your steps and doing a lot of review.
Capricorn Dec. 22 - Jan. 20 Your to-do list is full, but you should take time for yourself and relax. Those chores will get done. That essay will get written. Your brain needs some down time; listen to that one song by Q-Tip, Joni Mitchell, and Janet Jackson. A triple threat, just like you *winks*.
Pisces Feb. 20 - Mar. 20 Cherish the little things this month, Pisces. There's lots of time ahead of you. Go outside and enjoy nature. If you can’t go outside due to our current climate crisis, maybe enjoy an "herbal refreshment" if you're into that sort of thing.
Taurus Apr. 21 - May 21 Dig deep and start giving more sentimentally. You're going through a moment of healing and part of that is stepping away from your compulsive spending habits and needless lounging. Oh, and the attitude? Cut it out.
Cancer Jun. 22 -Jul. 23 Come out of that shell. I promise, no one is going to hurt you. There's so much out there that you're scared of and I get it, but quit being a crybaby. Libra Sept. 24 - Oct. 23 Feel free to embrace your sense of indulgence for your birthday. This pandemic has hit you so hard, I bet you're in tears daily from the lack of social gathering. Crack open a cold one and say cheers to being pretty and petty.
Sagittarius Nov. 23 - Dec. 21 Put on some Brian Eno and be quiet. No one needs to hear that thing you think needs to be said. What the hell has gotten into you? Remember that there are better ways to relate to people than by bullying them.
Aquarius Jan. 21 - Feb. 19 You're experiencing a renewal of sorts right now. Be prepared to think thoroughly about your past and where you draw influence. In other words, keep it cute and not corny. Be the cult classic you want to see in the world.
Aries Mar. 21 - Apr. 20 You have to be watchful of your actions and body for the next month. Go running or hiking or self-isolated online raving to exert some of that extra energy. You have lots on your plate at the moment, but I'm sure your inability to sit still will be useful.
Gemini May 21 - Jun. 21 Make those improvements you've been meaning to make and this season should treat you well. Be sure to avoid getting into any work slumps by balancing that energy with some self care. I know it's asking a lot of you to do one thing at a time, but consider it.
leo Jul. 24 - Aug 23 Shine bright like a diamond! That's all I got. Hmm… I guess there's a lot that you’ve grown from and mountains you've moved and yada yada yada. Keep your wits about yourself, but other than that this could be a beautiful month for you. Keep doing you!
@CAPILANOCOURIER
capilano courier
VOLUME 53, ISSUE NO.2
