Capilano Courier | Vol. 53, Issue 5 by Capilano Courier

VOLUME 53, ISSUE NO.5

JAN UARY 2020 A CALL FOR CANADIAN BLACK HISTORY IN BC SCHOOLS – THE FOREST OF MIRACLES: A SPIRITUAL PLACE FOR HEALING AND HOPE – NEW YEARS RESOLUTIONS – Q&A WITH JAYE SIMPSON – DIY: BULLET JOURNAL SPREAD – HAIL TO THE KING, BABY – ABA AND RELICS OF THE PAST – BEHIND GOOD INTENTIONS: AN AUTISTIC PERSPECTIVE ON SIA’S FILM MUSIC – THE FIGHT FOR OUR LIVES – THE BEIGE AND THE BOLD – MAKE CONTACT – HOROSCOPES – AND MORE

letter from the editor

On Forgetting How To Dream ANA MARIA CAICEDO

Editor-In-Chief

I’ve never been the type to make New Year’s resolutions. There’s something a bit scary about making a promise to yourself. When I was in Ryan Knighton’s creative writing class, he told us an allegory he heard about a man about to spin a wheel of fortune on a game show. It’s the man’s turn to spin the wheel, but he refuses to spin it. If he spins it, he has the chance of winning something. He also has the chance of winning nothing if it lands in a bad slot. So the man never spins the wheel, too afraid of losing to risk winning. This is sort of how I feel about New Year’s resolutions—and lately also goals, wishes and desires. At some point in the past few years, I stopped dreaming about what I want from my life. Resolutions, goals, dreams—they’re not so scary till you put them into existence. Sometimes it feels like as soon as the words come out of your mouth, they seem cursed to fail. That’s because they’ve been spoken into existence, given life—and with that, vulnerable to the possibility of not coming true. So I’ve chosen not to speak of dreams at all, and I’ve been doing this for so long that I think I’ve forgotten how to dream at all. Is it possible that you can stand waiting to spin the wheel for so long that you forget how to spin a wheel in the first place? This issue we have an article on DIY journaling. I thought of the lists I make from time to time—all the things I need to get done for the week. I thought of how these to-do tasks, written on this paper, are just the tip of the iceberg of the stuff within me that needs to get sorted. If you’ve been reading any of these EIC letters I’ve written so far, you know I haven’t been well lately. Around me, the spaces I occupied became reflections of my inner disorder: my kitchen floor grimy with dust and crumbs, my room peppered with unhung clothing, dirty socks, and half-empty cups of water. My arts and crafts supplies scattered across my living room, weaving threads in between couch cushions; scraps of collage paper accumulated dust on the ground, ashes and sugary tea residue coated my coffee table. Gross, I know. This week though, I cleaned for the first time in a while. I sprayed, scrubbed, wiped, polished, swept, vacuumed and tidied my bathroom, room, kitchen and living room. And funnily enough, sorting the mess on the outside calmed the one on the inside. You’ve probably made lots of to-do lists relating to school, work, or house tasks, like me. But when I was reading this DIY, it occurred to me: why don’t we make lists of our dreams; lists of what we want, lists of what we don’t want; lists of who we are and who we need to become? And while I’m sure many of you do this, the larger question for me has to do with why many of us don’t sort ourselves—our inner turmoils and desires—as meticulously and rigorously as we do our to-do tasks. I told my roommate Benji the other day that I don’t make New Year’s resolutions. “I don’t either,” they told me, “but I think it’s a good opportunity to sort out what you want.”

Ana Mar i a Cai ced o

@anamariacaicedo_

editor-in-chief

features editor

Managing Editor

Arts & Culture Editor

news editor

Opinions Editor

associate news editor

Literature & Humour Editor

art directors

Staff Writer

Ana Maria Caicedo capcourier@gmail.com

Alisha Samnani manager.capcourier@gmail.com

Alisha Samnani news.capcourier@gmail.com

Bridget Stringer-Holden associatenews.capcourier@gmail.com

Emma Sato Sara Nguyen artdirector.capcourier@gmail.com

Sarah Rose specialfeatures.capcourier@gmail.com

Claire Brnjac arts.capcourier@gmail.com

Megan Amato opinions.capcourier@gmail.com

Sarah Rose

Joss Arnott

Staff Illustrator Valeriya Kim

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

Alexis Zygan, Cam Loeschmann, Charlotte Fertey, Dahee Im, David Eusebio, Freya Wasteneys, Hassan Merali, Jayde Atchison, Kaileigh Bunting, Lindsay Aiden, Shruti Ramani, Tamia Thompson, Wen Zhai

FEATURED ARTISTS

Ana Maria Caicedo, Dallas McKinnon, Gianmarco Iuele, Jamie Kusack, Jason Arkell-Boles, Liann Huang

Cover Art

Coralie Mayer

CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATORS AnaĂŻs Bayle, Coralie Mayer, Geraldine Yaris, John Pachkowksy, Joyce Chan, Juliana Vieira, Michelle Lussier, Naomi Evers, Rocio Palomar-Robisco, Sophie Young, Talia Rouck

COLUMNIST PORTRAITS

Emma Sato

VOLUME 53 ISSUE NO.5

NEWS

FEATURES

City Studio Program at CapU

Hail To The King, Baby

ABA and Relics of The Past

OPINIONS

Extended for Three Years Purposeful Art for Modern Problems A Call for Canadian Black

COVID, Capitalism, and the Fight

History in BC Schools

for Life & Dignity in BC

The Graduate: Pandemic Edition 12

Wear a Mask in Class

The Forest of Miracles

How Do You FACTOR This?

Behind Good Intentions

The Fight for Our Lives

ARTS & CULTURE

Future-Proof Residence Building 42

New Year Resolutions

Q&A with Jaye Simpson

COLUMNS

Patisserie

Sexless in the City

Queer ASL

Virtual Reality

DIY: Bullet Journal Spread

Stories from the Long Walk

What's Brewing?

Overlook, BC

Behind the Studio: Remi

WE'RE HIRING A COMMUNITY RELATIONS MANAGER! Send your resume and a brief statement on why you want to work with us to capcourier@gmail.com. INTERESTED IN CONTRIBUTING? Email capcourier@gmail.com INTERESTED IN ILLUSTRATING? Submit your portfolio or samples of work to artdirector.capcourier@gmail.com

HUMOUR The Beige & The Bold

LITERATURE Make Contact

NOTE TO READERS In our October 2020 issue, the article “A Voice for Small Businesses” wrongly implied that Melanie McCreedy credited YUSHiiN LABO for getting her through the early stages of the pandemic. The online article has been corrected to remove this implication. We apologize to Melanie McCreedy and Mayumi Izumi, the contributor, for the error.

In our November 2020 issue, the article “North Shore Rent Bank Program Receives $75,000 Grant” misstated that the Harvest Project has donated $800,000 through their virtual program and grocery gift cards. We have been informed by the contributor who wrote the piece, Mayumi Izumi, that this was due to a misquote from the interviewee. The online article has been corrected to state that the Harvest Project has donated $200,000 worth of grocery gift cards since March 2020.

CITYSTUDIO PROGRAM AT CAPILANO UNIVERSITY EXTENDED FOR THREE YEARS Adele Therias reflects upon her journey f rom participant to project lead ALISHA SAMNANI Managing Editor, News Editor

“It was amazing. I mean, that was probably the best part of my undergrad,” remarked Therias. “[The course] was called Integrated Science and the focus was on climate change and sustainability. We would stop in different places and learn about the different industries or different nonprofits that were around, how the government worked, and how the country had been affected by tourism and climate change—we basically did a tour of Iceland!” “The [project] in China was only one week—it was a research forum on smart cities and the environment. There were about fifteen UBC students and the same amount of Chinese students,” recalled Therias. “It was challenging—there were definitely language barriers. My group decided to focus on wellbeing and public space. We would go around and take soundscapes of these different public spaces—it's a great way to visit the city. It was a fantastic learning experience.” “I learned a lot about design thinking. I learned a lot about collaborating with partners and professional etiquette, how you actually reach out to people and learn to engage with various stakeholders,” said Therias. “I also started to build a network, a professional network that was really amazing to graduate with.” While the CityStudio Network exists across Canada and Australia, the first CityStudio North Vancouver projects at Capilano University weren’t launched until September 2019— only two years after Adele Therias participated in her first CityStudio experience as an undergraduate. “It was for an urban forestry class. We were asked to redesign a portion of the Arbutus Greenway,” recalled Therias. “[Our

group] had one person who was incredible at drawing. She actually drew out all our ideas—we had a huge focus on how we could engage with people and increase their feelings of wellbeing in the space. And it was—we could just go crazy wild with our ideas just because there were no limits. It was really fun.” That initial experience shaped how Therias approaches her work as CapU’s CityStudio Project Lead. “I don't know what happened to those ideas. I never actually got to meet my partner at the City of Vancouver. We got to go to HUBBUB, but I don't know if the ideas were ever really shared,” recalled Therias. “That’s something that in my work now I take really seriously in terms of, you know, connecting students. They know who their partners are and have a chance to talk to them at least. I really want students to know where their work goes because I know how important that is.” Although CapU’s CityStudio participants aren’t jet setting across the globe, Therias aims to make projects as engaging and relevant for students as possible. Projects in the Fall 2020 semester focused on topics such as mental health, decolonization and community safety.

“We usually have an Idea Jam once a year with the City of North Vancouver; we get everyone in a room together with representatives from different organizations and we brainstorm together about areas of their work that could use new, creative ideas. That’s usually a huge source of projects for the whole year,” said Therias. “We tried to recreate it virtually, but it was really challenging.” “As a result, my approach this year has been a lot more researchbased: I’ve been going into City Council minutes, and trying to figure out what projects are coming up. That’s how the alcohol in public spaces project happened,” Therias chuckled. “I saw it in the news and thought, ‘students might like to work on a project related to alcohol. I should reach out.’ Thankfully, we managed to format a research project around it, but it’s a different process now for sure.” Virtual or not, Therias remains optimistic about the influence student work can have on the city. “Last year we had a group of students look at parklets—small, temporary public spaces— and try to think of ways to extend the idea and be innovative with it. They came up with the idea of barklets; parklets that are basically for people coming with their dogs.”

“It was such a popular idea—everyone was talking about barklets,” said Therias. “I recently found out from one of our CityStudio partners that the City of North Vancouver is working on creating a barklet—they’re actually calling it that—and they want to keep in touch with the students to see their final report.” The positive reception from community collaborators caused the City of North Vancouver Council to extend the pilot project at CapU for another three years. Therias is excited by the variety of projects offered during CityStudio’s pilot year, and hopes to include more departments in future semesters. “CityStudio projects can happen in all faculties and programs. Sometimes people think it’s just for tourism or business; but the goal is really to reach as many different [faculties and programs] as possible.” For more information on CityStudio North Vancouver or how to participate in an upcoming CityStudio project, email Adele Therias at citystudiocnv@capilanou.ca and follow them on Facebook and Instagram.

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“I always knew I’d end up in a creative field,” says Valeriya Kim, a floating Zoom head set against a virtual panda background. “I didn’t know exactly what I was going to do— fine art was never something that resonated with me— but I knew I wanted to explore different spheres of design.”

PURPOSEFUL ART FOR MODERN PROBLEMS Valeriya Kim shares the vision behind student project and mental health app, Ami, and provides insight into the humans behind the AI FREYA WASTENEYS Contributor

Born and raised in Kazakhstan (and a budding artist since age four), Kim says that she has always wanted to be part of something that would serve people. “I wanted my art to have a purpose,” she explains, “but everything I found was so specialized.” So, when she finally found Capilano University’s IDEA program, it was a natural fit.

Lilley, the aim was to help patients tackle negative patterns, behaviours and thoughts. The app provides the user with suggestions through an AI Chatbot, connecting the patient with a licensed professional if the issue remains unresolved. The student project was a finalist in the 2020 VanUXAwards and received an honourable mention from Graphic Design Canada.

Now in her fourth year, this idea of purposeful art has culminated in Ami, a mental wellness app that applies wellknown therapy practices like Cognitive Behavioural Therapy (CBT) to provide services outside of the counselling office. Created by Kim and fellow IDEA students Aidan Zecchel, Anna Tsybulnyk, Amy Asin, Sharleen Ramos, Haluka Yagi and Sarah

But when the team was initially tasked to solve a modern problem for their Design Thinking and Research class, they were immediately overwhelmed. “Today, there are so many modern issues that require deep understanding and problemsolving,” says Kim. “We re-evaluated our research topic many times over, but after weighing our options, we settled on mental

health, and then narrowed it down to therapy access.” Their research found that mental health services in Canada had many barriers that were prohibitive to prospective patients, showing that wait times were too long and the cost was too high for effective care, especially among those who need it most. Overall, they found an urgent need for cost-efficient delivery and increased access. The team talked to a number of industry professionals and therapy patients, gaining crucial feedback which informed both Ami’s features and design concept every step of the way. The issue held a personal significance for many in the group, and Kim credits the close-knit nature of the IDEA program for their ability to have frank conversations about their own experiences. She shares that part of her motivation to pursue this topic was spurred by her growing awareness of mental health issues.

project is that your immediate network is incredibly important to your mental health and wellness journey,” says Kim. “If you don’t have people to hold you accountable, you can easily just stay in your head or your house forever. Talking to someone is a big part that helps in protecting us from our negative train of thoughts. Relying on institutions and on access to therapy that is very undersupplied is not enough.” This may have been Kim’s first foray into app product design, but she doesn’t think it will be her last. “I think one of the most important things that I learned is that I want all my projects to be oriented around the idea of solving some sort of problem,” she says. “I think finally finding this structure of research and project process gives me confidence that I can problem solve and apply these technologies in a way that can create real change.”

“In a lot of countries, especially in Kazakhstan, mental health is quite stigmatized, and there isn’t an open dialogue,” she says. “Back home, our youth suicides are among the highest when compared to other countries. There is a real lack of awareness despite a lot of warning signs. It was only after coming to Canada and meeting people who openly talked about mental health and their experiences that I realized how widespread these issues are.” With such a complex problem, the project presented many challenges for the team too. “We realized that there are a lot of different issues and ways to deal with mental health struggles,” Kim says. “We couldn’t do it all. Some of the features made it to the app, but we wanted to avoid making it too feature bloated. We really struggled to narrow it down and decide what was important.”

Capilano University offers free mental health services and counselling for students. Learn more about these services by visiting the CapU website.

While AI can solve a number of problems, it can’t solve our need for human connection. “I guess it’s not really something new, but a big thing that I was reminded of from this

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A CALL FOR CANADIAN BLACK HISTORY IN BC SCHOOLS Former CapU student one of many organizing to combat systemic racism in education HASSAN MERALI Contributor

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After the worldwide racial justice protests in the summer were sparked by the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor, there’s been a spotlight on systemic racism and discrimination, especially in North America. In Vancouver, organizations like the BC Community Alliance (BCCA) and Anti-Racism Coalition (ARC) Vancouver have organized to root out the anti-Black racism in public education.

Simpson started at CapU in 2012 and left in 2018. “There weren’t really any places for BIPOC folks. It was an isolating experience.” He encountered a great deal of casual racism, recalling an incident where a white student was defending colonization. “He was talking about Indigenous people like they were less than—like they were savages,” said Simpson. “I was put in a position where I had to defend Indigenous people.”

Former Capilano University (CapU) student Markiel Simpson is a member of the Steering Committee of the BCCA, which was formed in the aftermath of a racist bomb threat at Lord Byng Secondary in 2018. The Black history he was taught through the public school system in BC was near non-existent and focused mainly on the Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade and the Underground Railroad, with no mention of Black history in Canada.

Incidents like these and the bomb threat at Lord Byng are why the BCCA started a petition to make educational environments in BC public schools more inclusive. “Not having an anti-racism strategy ... not having data, not giving teachers training ... a lack of those procedures that we need can facilitate a breeding ground for racism. I think it’s a lack of policy,” said Simpson. “Not having an anti-racism strategy ... not having data, not giving teachers training ... a lack of those procedures that we need can

Photos of (from left to right) Sylvia Stark, Mifflin Wistar Gibbs, Harry Jerome, Emma Stark, Peter Lester, Dr. William Allen Jones

facilitate a breeding ground for racism,” said Simpson. The petition urges the Ministry of Education to create a database to keep track of incidents of racism in BC schools. “Right now, there’s no data available to identify what the scale of the problem is,” said Simpson. “Incidents of racism aren’t tracked … right now, incidents of racism are kind of swept under the rug.”

history exists, but it’s been erased from our history books. Our monuments have been taken down,” said Simpson, who has heard the common refrain that racism in Canada is not as bad as it is in the States. He points to the mainstream media and the education system as culprits, saying that we learn about racism in the United States, but not racism here.

The petition also calls on the ministry to develop Black history for the BC curriculum in meaningful consultation with Black-led organizations, which Simpson believes is important.

“The Massey Tunnel used to be called the Deas Tunnel,” said Simpson, referring to John Sullivan Deas, the dominant salmon canner in BC in the late 1800s. “He was an entrepreneur. He was the first salmon canner in BC, I believe, a Black man. And they just changed it, without any consultation, from Deas to Massey.”

“If it’s not created in conjunction with Black-led organizations, then an institution that has ignored Canadian Black history since its inception would be tasked with creating it. The expertise is held in that community itself, and the professors, the teachers, the organizations are coming together to share their expertise.” The petition is gaining support at the local level. “We asked [the Burnaby School Board] if they would support our petition, and they made our question a motion on the floor, and they made it an emergency motion… to the BC School Trustees Association,” said Simpson, referring to the organization that represents all school boards in the province. “And all 60 voted for the motion at their meeting.”

Other organizations like ARC Vancouver are also targeting anti-Black racism in BC education. They started a petition to the Ministry of Education to create a ‘Black Shirt Day,’ similar to Pink Shirt Day and Orange Shirt Day, which raise awareness about 2SLGBTQIA+ discrimination and the history of residential schools, respectively. ARC Vancouver has proposed Jan. 15, the birthday of the late civil rights icon Dr. Rev. Martin Luther King Jr., as a date to wear black shirts. “[We hope this will] be an important step in raising greater awareness of the ongoing struggle for civil and human rights faced by Black and racialized Canadians,” ARC Vancouver said in a press release.

Currently, students in BC know more about American Black history than the Black history of Canada. “Since we don’t learn about Canadian racism, and the history of racism in the country, or just our history in general, it makes it seem like it doesn’t exist, and what ends up happening is we get erased. Canadian Black

When asked if he had anything to say to other Black students, Simpson provided some hope. “We’re trying to improve the state of BC’s education system and make it a safe place to learn,” he said. “And if you need help, reach out for it.”

Photo courtesy of (from left to right) Salt Spring Island Archives - Estes-Stark Collection (photo no. 989024013), Charles Milton Bell - C.M. Bell Studio Collection (Library of Congress), Public Domain, Salt Spring Island Archives - Estes-Stark Collection (photo no. 989024010), Public Domain, Barkerville Archives

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The Graduate: Pandemic Edition Resources for CapU alumni in uncertain times MEGAN AMATO Opinions Editor VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator

THE PRESSURE TO ENTER THE JOB FORCE RIGHT AFTER GRADUATION IS ONE FAMILIAR TO MANY ALUMNI. Amid a global pandemic that has affected almost every industry—for better or worse—finding a job to support yourself or your family, pay off your student loans or fulfill the requirements of your student visa is more precarious than ever.

summer, then they would be a ‘member’ until the end of December,” said Emily Bridge, President of the Capilano Students’ Union. “But if a student last took classes in the fall and graduated in the Spring, they would still cease to be a member at the end of April.”

Not everyone has access to university and many students have to take out high-interest government or bank loans to pay for the privilege to attend. Recently, the House of Commons endorsed an extension of the moratorium on federal student loan repayments and interest until May 2021. However, no action has yet been taken from it and graduates from the spring semester have received repayment notices due at the end of December. Alumni unable to make their repayments can apply for the Repayment Assistance Program (RAP) on the National Student Loans Service Centre (NSLSC) website.

The CSU continues to advocate for students and alumni on a federal and provincial level. “We sent out a letter in support of an eviction ban, which has since been lifted,” said Bridge, regarding the ban that was placed at the beginning of lockdown. “Our provincial advocacy group, the [Alliance of BC Students], is still advocating on this issue and wants to see the eviction ban reinstated.” The CSU has also been working with the Canadian Alliance of Student Associations (CASA) to campaign for more grants, bursaries, and financial aid for students and alumni. Bridge encourages everyone to apply for the BC Recovery Benefit.

International students are especially vulnerable to the effect the pandemic has had on the job market as many are far away from their families, may be unable to return home and depend on finding a job to honour their visa requirements.

CapU alumni also have lifetime access to the Career Development Centre (CDC) and can always make appointments, attend their events and seminars. Nancy Ng, CDC Manager, wants students and alumni to feel confident in their career trajectory. “The job market is recovering. It has already bounced back faster than it had in the last recession,” said Ng, adding that employers are becoming more flexible when it comes to working online. “It has also opened up the market for remote work across Canada. Sure, it means more competition but also more opportunities.”

“I have found that the hiring process was much slower and I didn’t hear back from a lot of the companies I applied to [and] not a lot of people want to hire someone who has a 20-hour weekly limit on their permit,” said Sheila Arellano, an Interdisciplinary Studies graduate who is seeking a job in publishing. “I [also] worry about the barriers I might face in the workforce as a bisexual Mexican immigrant, but I know the publishing and editing industry is inclusive, at least in my experience, and a lot of employers are opening their doors to create a more diverse environment in the labour market.” Graduating students have access to all of the CSU’s resources, including health and dental insurance, and community support for a full term after their last registration date. “[Alumni] are a member for one registration period after their last classes, so if a student graduated in the spring, but took classes in the

International students are also welcome at the CDC, and while they legally can’t give advice on visas, advisors are more than happy to help with the job search. “Since the first time I went to the CDC, the advisors were all super helpful,” said Arellano. “They showed me where I could find opportunities for the type of job I was seeking and even took the extra time to make sure my resume and cover letter stood out.” The CDC will be partnering with Douglas College in March to put on a virtual job fair highlighting businesses in the lower mainland who are hiring or will be hiring. More information on resources for students and alumni can be found at www.Canada.ca.

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THE FOREST OF MIRACLES: A SPIRITUAL PLACE FOR HEALING AND HOPE Dundarave Festival provides housing for homeless seniors BRIDGET STRINGER-HOLDEN Associate News Editor JULIANA VIEIRA Illustrator

“If you’ve got someone who’s in their 70s or 80s and they’ve ended up couch surfing, how is it possible to coach that person to find permanent housing? What does that look like? What ends up happening is a homeless shelter that was designed to be temporary housing ends up becoming permanent housing. What kind of home is that for someone who’s in their 70s or 80s?” “What [the Dundarave Festival] means to me personally, and especially this year, is that hope always comes to us in ways that we don't expect,” said Michael Markwick, festival spokesperson. “I don’t create my own hope, but hope has a way of breaking in and changing everything.”

to buy socks and blankets,” he said. Instead, the festival raised $25,000 in its first year despite dropping tree prices to allow more participation. “Instead of buying socks and blankets, the trees were able to actually allow Lookout Society to buy permanent housing.”

The free-to-enter festival typically consists of a Christmas tree display, called the Forest of Miracles, and a live concert series on the four Saturdays leading up to Christmas. In 2008, six weeks before the festival started, the previous organizers were no longer able to run it. Marwick created a new business model, allowing donors to send their funds directly to Lookout Housing and Health Society.

Each tree raises at least $250 in charitable donations to support Lookout Society’s operations on the North Shore. “The trees are sponsored by families, and community groups, or businesses,” said Markwick. “The Capilano Faculty Association has a tree there— our tree is dedicated to Elder Ernie George.” As of the end of December, the festival had raised $23,510—donating nearly half a million dollars over 12 seasons.

“When we started doing this, I thought, well, it’s 2008 and the global economy has died, so maybe we’re raising enough money

Although the society operates across the Lower Mainland, festival donations specifically help North Shore community members

exit homelessness, with the Society matching up to $50,000 each year. “That’s really important for a couple reasons. Unlike their other sites, the face of housing insecurity and homelessness on the North Shore is the face of seniors and the face of young adults,” said Markwick, noting that their North Shore Homeless Shelter and the Downtown Eastside are equally busy. However, those who turn up at the North Shore shelter tend to be seniors—with one of the oldest residents being in their 90s— and young adults, ranging from recent high school grads to those in their early 30s. “We know that the housing is occupied—it’s occupied by seniors in their 70s. If not for this housing, those seniors could have remained couch surfing with family and friends, they could have remained in the North Shore shelter, or they could be sleeping under a bridge,” said Markwick. “Each of those steps reduces their life expectancy—each of those circumstances.” The festival also serves as a site for decolonization. “The Forest of Miracles, at its heart, is something that we have developed with Squamish Elders,” said Markwick, who helped create a Christmas tree medicine wreath. The wreath combines the colours of the medicine wheel—black, white, red and yellow—with the colours of the advent wreath—three purples and one pink. Each of the four Christmas trees is dedicated to a specific intention: Hope for Innocents, Hope for Women—including missing and murdered Indigenous women—Hope for Healing, and Hope for Ancestors. “What really strikes me—and you can see it yourself—is the women’s tree,” said Markwick. “It has handwritten names of missing and murdered women and girls from the nation and if we had lost

that, it would have been very painful for the Squamish elders, for their families, for our community.” The elders described it as “a spiritually powerful place,” and in keeping with their protocol, both the wreath and Forest of Miracles were blessed and smudged. “In our performance space, which the Squamish elders blessed and called the festival longhouse, we’ve had the guy who was sleeping on the beach that night, standing right next to the billionaire who has a waterfront property four houses down,” said Markwick. “I kind of created the business model and the structure of using arts and culture for social change—it’s now become the principal celebration of arts and culture in West Van’s Christmas.” For the first time, the light display covered 15 blocks in West Vancouver, accommodating social distancing guidelines. “We built it in a way that allows people all kinds of ways to stay away from each other. Our messaging for the festival is ‘keep a loving distance’,” says Markwick, explaining that this allowed a chance for families who weren’t all in the same bubble to meet up and see each other. Markwick finds that the pandemic makes this work all the more significant. “Everyone’s told to shelter in place, we’re told to stay in our homes. What do you do if you’re a 70-year-old, you’re at a high risk of dying from COVID, and you don’t have a home to stay in?” “I don’t think it’s histrionic to say that the trees in the forest of miracles, especially at this moment in this Christmas, is a life or death resource,” said Markwick. “Lighting up a Christmas tree is an act of mercy: it is one of the most tangible ways that we can protect the most vulnerable members of our community.”

Lookout Housing and Health Society use donations to support essential services for the homeless. According to the website, the society “has used this money to support essential services for the homeless, doubling the transitional services it provides to the most vulnerable members of our community.” To donate, go to https://lookoutsociety.ca/get-involved/donate/.

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L i a n n h ua n g

@liann.huang 16

L i a n n h ua n g

@liann.huang F E AT URED A R T

NEW YEAR'S

While we don’t want to jinx anything by wishing for world peace in 2021, we can still have hope for the future and all of it brings. Here is a group of our contributors and editors explaining what they are hoping to do next year, how they’re doing it, and how they’re going to tackle the new year with gusto.

ROCIO PALOMAR ROBISCO Illustrator

CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editor KAILEIGH BUNTING Contributor WEN ZHAI Contributor ALEXIS ZYGAN Contributor

WATCH MORE MOVIES CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editor

I am the worst kind of movie watcher—one that looks up the Wikipedia plot synopsis because I can’t stand to wait the forty minutes it takes to get there naturally. If a movie even hints at a plot that I find unsavoury for some reason, I turn it off. I have a short attention span, so I have to find a time, a space, and a mental vibe that makes ‘watching movies’ conducive to my life. All this to explain why I haven’t watched more than eight movies in my nine months indoors. For the past two years, I’ve challenged myself to watch a hundred movies or television shows in one calendar year. I try to keep up with Oscar nomination lists and “Best Of’s,” but I can barely crack fifty on a good year. It’s not for lack of time either—even unemployed and not in school during the summer, I couldn’t force myself to pick something worth watching in Netflix’s endless selections. There must be creative benefits for watching a lot of movies: being exposed to characters, plot lines and dialogue is great for strengthening writing skills and thinking of new ideas. The best blocking can make you feel like you’re watching a well-rehearsed dance, and good cinematography makes you want to paint a picture of a well-structured scene. Movie watching also lets you share a moment with your family or friends, just you,them and Saoirse Ronan. I’ll never forget seeing Captain America: The First Avenger with my unwilling friends and watching as they slowly came around. In 2021, I want to be able to watch a movie without picking up my phone once to check a Wikipedia article or movie-related trivia. In a nonmovie theatre setting, it’s hard. There’s no social pressure stopping you from getting distracted by an email, a message, or a devastating Co-Star reading and letting the remainder of the movie pass you by. Next year, I’m sitting still—and getting to 100 if it tortures me. 1 8

STAWAMUS

CHIEF

KAILEIGH BUNTING Contributor

In years past, my New Year’s resolutions have all been part of the same “new year new me” mantra: lose weight, eat better, learn a new language, wake up early, do yoga, eat more kale, or read more books—all activities I thought would make me happy, or at least give me the beach body I’d always dreamed of. Despite setting these expectations for myself, I found myself failing time and time again, leading to frustration that made each goal slip further out of reach. It wasn’t until I started rockclimbing recreationally that I started to care less about the results of my workouts and more about the activity itself. I’ve come to love the early morning drives to the rock wall just to climb at sunrise. I’ve grown to enjoy the feeling of sore muscles, and I’ve started to look at food as fuel to power my awesome adventures in British Columbia’s beautiful backyard instead of calories I had to eat less of. Without realizing it, rock-climbing has led me closer to my past resolutions than dieting or half-assed meditation ever has. Because of all this, my 2021 New Year’s resolution is to climb the Stawamus Chief. Towering 702m tall, this rock wall is the most impressive single piece of granite in North America. Locally known as “The Chief,” this massive monolith towers above the city of Squamish in British Columbia and is one of the crown jewels of Howe Sound. To rock climb the entire Chief top to bottom takes the average climbing duo eight hours, something that once seemed impossible to me. Now, beach body or not, I know I’m capable of achieving this goal, and I can’t wait to see what else 2021 has to offer.

RESOLUTIONS CONSTRUCTIVE THINKING WEN ZHAI Contributor

Being an international student stuck abroad until next year and whose study schedule has been severely disrupted, I’ve tried to cheer myself up in different ways during the past year. In 2021, through experience and experimentation, I want to develop one of those habits into a consistent routine that helps accommodates more negative feelings. I joined a 30-day gratitude group, where we shared what we felt thankful for each day. It was heartwarming to see so many moments of gratefulness, big or small,but it also added pressure. You can only use “a sunny day,” or “good health for myself and my family” so many times before it becomes tedious. Gratitude and reflection morphed into anxiety and pressure. I also tried positive psychology techniques. I tried focusing on positive experiences, but reality always seemed to have the upper hand. While I felt guilty for not feeling positive when so many people were worse off than myself, I also knew my worries and frustrations were legitimate. Eventually, just looking for reasons to stay positive became exhausting. Then one day, still overwhelmed by frustration, I decided that I would at least try to eat three proper meals at regular intervals despite my negative feelings. The word “constructive” came to mind, and I fell in love with it. It was so liberating not to bash yourself when you felt low and just think of how to keep yourself healthy and on track. On days I realized that I would be consumed by negativity, I would drop everything and go out for a walk. Nothing felt more helpful than focusing on constructive thoughts or actions when the world around the pandemic seemed to change daily and government and school policies changed weekly. Bit by bit, I feel more positive when I have given up on being “positive”, and hopefully, this daily reflection will lead me to the future that I want next year.

THE YEAR OF THE LOW-BUY ALEXIS ZYGAN Contributor

I flip through my journal back to Jan. 1 and reflect on the resolutions I set out to accomplish in 2020. This was a year defined by countless challenges—stuck at home during quarantine with a credit card and encouraging advertisements, I gave in. I found myself filling the void leftover from cancelled concerts and plane ticket vouchers with gifts I purchased in the sentiment of self-love. Online shopping became a way to cope with uncertainty. At least I knew that Canada Post would deliver my package within two weeks and satisfy my unconscious urges for consumption. In 2021, I vow to be more mindful about how I spend my money through “low-buy,” a practice where consumers buy very little during the year to focus on sustainability. I debated the more restrictive “no-buy,” but decided to try the less limiting option and embrace a more minimalist lifestyle. A low-buy requires diligence and following restrictions, hence why I’m publishing this article to hold myself accountable. Years ago, I watched as a friend's roommate had to freeze his credit card to stop spending. Hopefully, through following the low-buy rules, I will never have to go to such extremes. For the following year, I can eat out and buy groceries only once a week. I aim to buy all gifts secondhand or give an experience instead—no buying anything new for my apartment unless an item breaks and requires a replacement. To ensure I only buy one clothing item per month, I will unsubscribe from email newsletters. As a caffeine connoisseur, I limit myself to only purchasing one oat milk latte every two weeks. At the end of the month, I plan to transfer all the money leftover into a tax-free savings account. I will also track all my purchases through the EveryDollar Budgeting app. By the end of 2021, I hope to no longer be spending carelessly. Despite consumerism convincing us otherwise, our worth on this planet is far more than what we buy. A R TS & CULT URE

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it was never going to be okay: a conversation with jaye simpson How a Two-Spirit Indigenous poet shared their lived experience through poetry ALEXIS ZYGAN Contributor

“A lot of these poems came from a place of not talking. Vulnerability is opening up for the first time,” shared jaye simpson as we discussed their poetry debut it was never going to be okay. simpson resides in the xwməθkwəýəm (Musqueam), səĺilwətaʔɬ (Tsleil-Waututh), and sḵwxwú7mesh (Squamish) First Nations territories and has been performing spoken word since they were in university. Simpson has organized poetry writing workshops and had their poems published in Room Magazine, SadMag and Poetry is Dead—it was never going to be okay is their first book released on Oct. 6, 2020. The collection is organized by four sections, concluding with a poem about healing and feeling safe enough to love and be loved. Earlier passages share a glimpse into simpson’s lived experience as a twospirit Indigenous queer who grew up in foster care. In their poem “haunting,” Simpson shares their experience as an outlier in the family unit, “have you haunted photo albums before? been the blurry phantom in the background? a sorrowful spectre?” I love how they intertwine symbolism to describe the natural environment with haunting imagery to illustrate charming scenes and tender memories. After years of folks telling Simpson everything was going to be okay, this book of poetry is their response. It was never going to be okay is available for purchase through Harbour Publishing.

AZ: When did you begin writing poetry, and how has your process

changed since then?

jaye simpson: I began writing at a young age but let me tell you, it wasn't good poetry. I never took it all too seriously up until [I attended] university, where I realized my talent. I focused on telling stories orally, which is a traditional method for my people. When I first began to write, it was to perform. As I shifted, I began to explore how my words fell on the page. AZ: How did you approach writing your first poetry book? JS:

My book's creation story has been years in the making. [It] started with rejection, which worked in my best interest. I was not ready. I gave up hope as, at the time, I was a spoken word artist up until a publishing company contacted me. I thought, why not submit to multiple publishers? I got accepted by most and selected a publisher. Once secured, I got to sit with the manuscript at Banff last year with a fantastic cohort of other inspirational poets. I took my time and did not hate my manuscript, which happens for many folks. It has been a few years process across turtle island, and I finally settled close to home.

AZ: Are you proud of any specific passage from the book? JS:

At this point, I am proud of honesty. There are poems where I am happy with the revisions. The original framework painted me in too good of a light where my participation was not. Some of my favourite poems are hard to perform because of the vulnerability.

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AZ: How has poetry helped you cope with trauma? JS: Healing is nonlinear. For me, poetry was more than the ability to

AZ:

Is there an overarching message you hope to share through it was never going to be okay?

cope. It was a way to safely tell my story because it is a real experience, JS: A lot of these poems came from a place of not talking. and there will be hardships, but there is also joy. I wanted my poetry Vulnerability is opening up for the first time. This collection is a to be more than just my trauma—kinship, love and hope. I think breaking of silence and a resounding acknowledgement that I was there is a focus on poetry making us weep. Especially in the spoken told everything was going to be okay throughout my life, and it wasn't. word scene, many folks use poetry to excise their deepest scars, which And if someone had communicated that, the healing could have is their process, but that is something I don't do anymore. happened. The collection is a big screw you to a lot of people.

AZ: Would you say that your poetry has progressed in a way where

you want to share more of those good moments?

JS: I think so. I always take care of my audience. If I bring the reader

into a dark place, it is my job to get them back into a good place. My book has four sections, and the last section is the most hopeful.

AZ: Are there any poems from it was never going to be okay that you

enjoy performing or is the content meant for reading?

JS:

I love performing; I took theatre for over a decade, and some things do not leave you. My intention for the collection is to stand on its own and to be performed. Some of my favourites to share [are] the first poem, “sea glass,” “fever,” “bedroom hymns,” and “decolonial pu$$y.”

AZ: What message would you like the readers to take away? JS:

There are many different storytelling methods and so many other voices and diversity; this is only one version. To any queer Indigenous folks who want to tell their story, they should.

AZ: Do you hope to publish more poetry books in the future? JS:

I am working on a few literary projects. [There’s] a novel that won't see completion for a few years. I am currently writing a collection of essays. Who knows when the next collection will be, but there is a fire for another one.

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Ins ide

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At the height of a global pandemic, Remi Ho decided now was the time to open his bakery JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer

“You can find beauty in things that aren't perfect,” says Remi Ho, owner of Remi Patisserie. “I wanted to create desserts that are like that.” Remi Patisserie opened this past October, selling Asian pastries and desserts that emphasize flavour over form. “I don't really care that much about decoration because what I care about most is how we deliver in your mouth,” said Ho. “It sounds weird, but it’s how the texture feels and how the flavour comes through.” Speaking to one of his key baking tenets, Ho discussed the traditional Japanese concept of Wabi-Sabi, or the imperfectly-perfect. “In restaurants, you have to make everything perfect, and I wanted to do something that is more natural. Because in nature, nothing is the same.” The baker takes inspiration from the latest pastry trends in Tokyo and France and combines them with his mother's old recipes. “It’s what I ate when I was growing up,” said Ho, describing one of his most popular innovations, his mochi. “It’s a real combination of French and Asian pastry.” Ho started out as a dishwasher in Steveston, with no idea how kitchens functioned or cooking worked. He liked the atmosphere though, so he stuck with it. Years of working his way through various kitchens paid off when Ho opened his own bakery in Olympic Village.

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After a three year hunt for a location, Ho finally found the perfect spot. It was a manageable size, in a good neighbourhood, and most importantly, affordable. His pop-up bakery had been growing steadily to the point where he couldn't keep up with orders on his own. “I thought [business] was going to be pretty slow,” he said, speaking of when he reopened his pop-up in April, “but it was actually better than in March.” With no room in his old kitchen, Ho needed his own space. “My mind was set,and then the pandemic came.” Ho wasn't ready to lose his dream location, so he took a chance. “Not to brag, but I was confident.” Ho’s business was already centred around pick-ups, so he’s been able to weather the worst of the pandemic’s waves with his sales intact. “I think I was really lucky because I didn't open a restaurant,” he said. “If I had opened a ramen restaurant, I would be dead right now.” While business has been good, the pandemic has caused its own set of unique problems. “The city [Vancouver] has been a tough one,” mentioned Ho, who applied for a permit to bake in the new space in September. Due to a bureaucratic deadlock caused by the pandemic, Ho hasn’t been able to get the necessary permits for his business. “I still cannot bake in my own store,” said Ho, who is still working out of his old kitchen. Starting his day at 5 am, Ho works late into the night, often till close to midnight. “Right now, I work twelve to fourteen hours per day,” he said,“the sales are good, but I have to work extra hard.”

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s How a Vancouver-Based Program is working to Create a Community for Deaf and HOH Queer People JAYMIE MARIE Contributor TALIA ROUCK Illustrator

“Parallels [between Queer people and the Deaf comunity] are endless really, and I find that discussing this with our students has an impact and fosters mutual understanding and connection.” (Zoée Montpetit) The struggle to find connection and community for Deaf and Hard of Hearing (HOH) individuals can feel like a very isolating experience. QueerASL, founded by Zoée Montpetit, is a program dedicated to creating a safe and accessible community in Vancouver for Deaf and HOH Queer people. Montpetit is a Deaf queer person originally from Victoria, BC, where she first started QueerASL as a club in 2009. QueerASL began as a way for Montpetit to “open up more communication accessibility for [her]self in queer communities she is] a part of.” After moving to Vancouver, QueerASL began to expand and grow as a program. In my own experience growing up queer, I often struggled to find places where I could connect with people in my community. After losing some of my hearing from a health issue, I began to feel even more isolated. I found myself quite drawn to Montpetit’s work as I learned the opportunities QueerASL provides to connect and learn more about my community.

QueerASL is offered by donation only, which makes Deaf culture and education more accessible to queer and trans indivduals. Like most programs, QueerASL classes have changed as a result of the pandemic. As restrictions remain in place for social gatherings, in-person class environments are considered high risk so QueerASL has moved to pre-recorded lessons, homework videos, and Zoom practice meetings. The use of Zoom for practice meetings has beenuseful to teach ASL as it allows “students get a chance to interact with others in a fully accessible environment [with] no lip-reading needed as [Zoom meetings] are completely voice-off and interact with Deaf queer teachers,” Montpetit explained. “We intend to retain our online classes even when the pandemic is over as we recognize that our in-person classes are not accessible to everyone, such as folks with classroom anxiety, conflicting schedules, those who live far away, etc.,” said Montpetit. They also intend to start a hybrid of in-person and online classes in the future.

ASL is not just for Deaf and HOH queer people. “I find that [I am] hearing queers resonate a lot with some experiences that Deaf people go through, as there's many parallels in our life experiences,” Montpetit reflected. “Hearing queers often go through this process QueerASL offers workshops teaching four different levels of ASL of coming into their identity as a queer person—Deaf people go that increase in difficulty, and are all taught by queer and trans Deaf through a similar identity process, especially if they grew up in a more individuals. They teach ASL by learning the alphabet, finger-spelling, hearing environment.” facial expressions, vocabulary, and grammar structures. When Montpetit started QueerASL, it was a casual drop-in ASL club held The next cycle of classes starts in March, with registration open in in her living room. Over the years, it’s grown and evolved to include early February. multiple levels, homework videos led by local queer and trans signing communities, accessible locations, and new Deaf Queer instructors. You can find their classes and mailing list at www.queerasl.com A R TS & CULT URE

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Do It Yourself: Bullet Journal Spread Getting your life together looks a lot different than it did before the pandemic. Enter: the Bullet Journal CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editor

I have a problem getting organized. Ask anyone: I always seem to have a problem keeping my room clean, and my Notes app is filled with many half checked-off grocery lists. Since I’ve been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Hyperactive Disorder (ADHD), the struggle for normalcy and a system that actually works gets harder and harder every year. Enter: The Bullet Journal. A system devised in 2013 that only needs a notebook and a singular writing instrument but has limitless potential as you get more comfortable structuring your life. Amanda Pham, a panel secretary, recent university graduate, and my friend, expressed the idea to me while I was lamenting the lack of structure in my life. She picked up the habit after needing something to do and was inspired by the many “How To: Bullet Journal Spread” videos—like this one from YouTuber ohnonina—that continue to rocket to the top of YouTube’s algorithm. I’ve explained her methods down below, taking some pictures of my own spread as I do it. Bullet journaling is not specifically hard, but it does take some time, patience, and a little creativity. Maybe some stickers too.

Step One: Medium

dot grid patterned pages Find a journal you like. Blank and for bullet journals, ions are usually the most popular opt ial in what spreads or lists ent pot tive crea ss itle lim as there is chtturm 1917 notebooks Leu you could make. Moleskine or ey, but any old notebook are usually standard, if a little pric will work.

Step Two: Utensil of Choice Pens or pencils of any colour will work for your documenting needs. For more intricate spreads, you can sketch it out beforehand with a pencil, so you’re sure of placement. Pham’s favourites are Crayola SuperTips Markers, as they’re relatively cheap and don’t bleed through pages.

Step Three: Spread

You can really do whatever you want from this point on . When I first started out, I found my self all I wrote down were things creating uncomplicated lists, where I needed to do for the nex t day. That spiralled into making lists for new movies, new restau rants, or new music I wanted to check ou t. Amanda’s lists went from another simple kind of layout—a mo nth grid, where she planned days a month in advance. Ot all of her her popular layouts are bu dgeting trackers, where you split up your income for the month , in-depth journaling about favourite television shows or movie s, or tracking how many books you’ve rea d. They can be as well decora ted and aesthetically pleasing as you like, or purely utilitarian.

Step Four: Decorating Many people turn toward Washi Tape, a Japanese cloth tape that can be patterned with animals, leaves, or just colours, to decorate their journals. Additionally, bullet journaling is a great dumping ground for all the stickers you’ve collected over your lifetime. Coloured markers and highlighters are great accent pieces as well—it’s all about experimenting with what you enjoy seeing and what you enjoy making.

Step Five: Consistency The hardest part of starting a new hobby is maintaining said hobby. There needs to be integration of bullet journaling into your life in an impactful way. As one of the main tenets of ADHD is forgetting, this step is the hardest for myself. Creating a routine (and documenting in the journal) let me integrate bullet journaling in a non-obtrusive way. Amanda, who doesn’t have ADHD, dedicates a couple hours a month to her monthly grids, so she doesn’t feel overwhelmed with the creative possibilities. Bullet journaling can be extremely helpful as a creative outlet and a way to relax. Even if you don’t have ADHD like myself, there’s something calming about decorating a page and making lists and putting stickers down. It feels a little bit like a daily/weekly/monthly setting of priorities, and sometimes, that’s all it has to be.

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Drag kings like Duke Carson are taking center stage in transforming queer spaces through some family love and the art of drag SHRUTI RAMANI Contributor ANAÏS BAYLE Illustrator

On a chilly, whimsical night, Café Deux Soleil is host to a spectacle brimming with anticipation of the unknown. Akin to the stars of tonight's show, the laidback Commercial Drive spot transforms from daytime café into a mesmerizing mirage of queens and kings in all their glory. The energy is palpably infectious, cheers and hoots engulf the performers on stage, drowning out Cee Lo Green blaring over the speakers. Tonight’s acts are something of a potpourri—from ambiguous choreography aiming to make a commentary to displays of sheer athleticism and grace. The crowd teeters on feral, raining a hurricane of dollar bills onto the stage. Each act is equal parts wild and unique, but one thing they share is a ferocity and confidence that oozes from their personas. Thanks to the popularity of things like RuPaul’s Drag Race and Dragula, the perception that drag is just lip syncing to pop songs in makeup is becoming more scarce. The art of drag is as intricate as any other, requiring time, dedication and practice. It’s impossible not to be drawn in by the drag kings’ personas at Cafe Deux Soleil—and as an androgynous presenting queer woman, I can’t help but wonder if someone like me could be a king too. Duke Carson, reigning champion of Alberta’s Next Drag Superstar, is quick on the draw: “Literally anybody can be a drag king! Get together with your close ones. Ones that will be supportive of your

first performance and dive right in,” he says. Jordan May has been performing as Duke Carson for over six years now. They, along with other kings in the community, have been instrumental in actively curating spaces that welcome and celebrate kings. May found drag in early 2014 and shortly after made their debut performance at Dickens—a popular underground dive in Calgary—to Midnight Show by The Killers. May says it’s still their home base, and favourite place to perform. For May, winning Alberta’s Next Drag Superstar has been vital to realizing who Duke was and who Duke wanted to be. Family is built into the foundation of the queer community. “It takes a community to raise a king,” says May, who emphasizes that the community and opportunities they found through Dickens were invaluable to their career. Off stage, May steps into the role of parent to an adopted son, but as Duke they are an independent artist with an overall support from the queer community. Much like real families, drag families are diverse, and involve intrinsic relationships that often extend far beyond titles. May reflects on their journey from watching Youtube videos, to sharing stage and off-stage space with other drag artists. Drag families can be pillars of emotional support and encouragement to pursue one’s identity and ambitions. As a parent, May believes resilience and growth come from making your own mistakes, learning from them and finding your own solutions. Parenthood is both rewarding and challenging at once. Like any F E AT URES 2 7

HAIL TO THE KING, BABY

other parent-child dynamic, sometimes it’s best to take a step back as a parent and give children the space to make their own discoveries and curate their identity. “Drag is exhilarating, passionate and freeing,” says May. It provides a space for artists to be, to feel and to flourish. Drag aims to be a safe haven for the queer community and to be the world that unifies people from all walks of life, despite gender identity, orientation and chosen personas. The reality, however, like with other artforms, drag is far from perfect. Although it has made leaps and bounds over the last few decades, drag has a long path ahead of it with regards to acceptance and making reparations. Kings often struggle to receive the success and recognition that queens happen upon with relative ease. Reflecting upon the adversities May faced as Duke in the Albertan drag scenes, they admit that a lot of legwork went into birthing venues other than Dickens that welcomed and appreciated kings with the same grandeur as their counterparts. “Being a Drag king is representing a part of queer history that has been widely underrepresented, recognition as a Drag Queen,” says May. The reason according to May is simple, “it’s still a man’s world!” In a purist kind of a way and historically, queens have been personas adopted by men presenting as women. These distinctions cannot be stereotyped into binary categories anymore, especially with gender identities having branched out to be more inclusive. The reality is women and non-binary folks trying to be drag monarchs are often met with resistance. May touches on the incidents where kings are often denied pay, as opposed to their paid counterparts. They also describe instances where they would be shunned from pub drag events. May believes drag kings seizing opportunities to be seen and heard is a part of the leg-work required to not only be a king, but create meaningful equality in the world of drag. COVID-19 has actively revolutionized how other art forms realize themselves, and the same can be said for drag. The drag community has found common ground with the challenges they face through realizing their passion for keeping the art alive and thriving. The lack of physical spaces could have seen drag fizzle out, but many artists like May continue to create despite the challenges. In some ways, re-defining what drag necessitates in terms of performance requires remodelling their art to fit online platforms. Duke Carson has a loyal fan base that has kept them active in these exceptional circumstances. 2 8

They are making music videos to keep their audiences engaged. “I became a movie producer, low-key!” said May. A lot of artists have had to find innovative ways to engage with technology to reach audiences during the pandemic. Drag shows are notorious for being hosted at late hours of the night and at niche queer venues. A case can be made that online drag has made the art-form more accessible and to a wider audience. RuPaul’s Drag Race set a precedent by involving audiences outside of the queer community to scratch the proverbial surface of drag. May explains how the drag community in Alberta is flourishing, despite the sometimes intense external political pressure of the conservative government. It’s a testament to the power of this community, in the larger scheme of things. The Vancouver drag scene is also picking up momentum with regards to the freedom in performance practises. Spaces like London Pub, Café Deux Soleil, Junction, PumpJack pub and many others have been established as safe spaces for queer artists, and kings in particular, to take center stage and thrive. Queer artists from all over Canada are flocking to the scene to experience it and get involved. This year has made us hyper-aware of our mortality, and it’s hard to imagine what next year will look like, let alone what drag will look like ten years from now. Arguably, the soul and the spontaneity of this art form is obscured without a live audience and their tangible reactions. Drag, like other artforms, thrives on collaboration, and on family. May hopes that new life can be breathed back into drag; reminiscent of pre-pandemic performances, with live audiences, but altogether something different than what we’ve seen before. “There’s nothing like the energy you get from being in the same room as someone you’re performing with,” May mused. Jordan May and many other kings and queens are doing the work so that drag can continue reaching people globally. In uncertain times where it seems the world is becoming more polarised than ever, the monarchs of drag have more than a few life lessons to share about finding our own families, self-expression, respect and acceptance. Like all things in nature, metamorphosis is both essential and bewitching. From Ovid to the dressing rooms at a drag show, even if sometimes it’s difficult to see, there’s always an opportunity to shed our skin and embrace something new.

The ABA-Autism program offered at CapU attracts students nationally, but autistic advocates question whether the controversial treatment with a $75 million price tag should be left in the past

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SARAH ROSE Features Editor CORLIE MAYER Illustrator

In the late 1950s, a brother and sister scaled the endless fields of Dartmouth, Nova Scotia. Of all the fascinating artifacts these kids discovered in the lush Atlantic seascape, the most terrifying is a terracotta brick beast that towered over the mouth of the Eastern Passage. “Careful, or else they’ll lock you up in there, and the crazy people will get you,” warned their parents. By the time the brother, John Putland, turns 19, he’ll be inside that building, terrified, undergoing electroshock therapy until he’s bathed in bruises from the

constant seizures. “It’s me,” he’ll cry to his sister, obscured by the dark humour we lean on to survive. “I was the crazy one all along.” Depending on when and where you cast a net in history, unusual behaviour could’ve been the mark of a shaman, or a symptom of demonic possession only curable by execution. Atypical is a complicated word more often marred by societal expectations than by the individuals themselves. F E AT URES

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The last half century of psychiatric care has been defined by rapid, unprecedented transformation. Putland received electroshock therapy in a hospital opened by Dorothea Dix, the mother of the mental asylum. Less than a year after his violent electroshock treatments, the US Food and Drug Administration approved Lithium, one the most widely studied and prescribed antimanic drugs in the world. Asylums were the perfect labs for controversial treatment—insulin shock, ice baths and lobotomies—once heralded as radical advancement. Now, they are synonyms for abuse and imprisonment. Inside one such asylum, Dr. Ivar Lovaas tested a new treatment approach for autism. “Enraged bellows at the boy, then a sharp slap in the face. This deliberate, calculated harshness is part of an extraordinary new treatment for mentally crippled children,” reads the introduction to a 1965 Life article on Applied Behavioural Analysis (ABA). Dr. Lovaas argued that autistic patients should be exempt from ethical considerations regarding brutal punishment, and suggested that families use cattle prods to punish their children. Today, ABA is a massive industry. It’s considered a first line therapy for autism, overseen by the Behavioural Analyst Certification Board (BACB). “The thousands of children with autism in B.C. deserve access to Applied Behavioural Analysis—the single, most researchsupported treatment,” says Richard Stock in an interview with North Shore News. Stock is an ABA-Autism program instructor at Capilano University (CapU), a unique program in Western Canada that provides a direct pathway to writing the BACB certification exam. CapU is also the only institution in Western Canada that offers a bachelor’s degree and post-baccalaureate certification in ABA. According to the BC Autism Support Network, “behavioural analysis is the science of behaviour. ABA is the process of systematically applying interventions, based upon the principles of learning theory, to improve socially significant behaviours to a meaningful degree, and to demonstrate that the interventions employed are responsible for the improvement in behavior.” CapU ABA-Autism Program Coordinator Miriam Elfert’s description of ABA is copacetic to this: “[ABA is about] finding strategies to correct problematic and disruptive behaviour,” although she adds, “we’re trying to help people achieve a better quality of life.” Yet it still feels like something’s missing—there’s no reference to the internal emotions or wellbeing of the people ABA is designed for. Unlike most DSM-5 diagnoses, neurodevelopmental disabilities like ADHD and autism are still defined by their external impact on society, rather than what the individual experiences as disabling. What have we been leaving out by not turning the lens inwards?

Researchers like Olga Bogdashina have credibly theorized that autism is primarily a sensory difference, from which many of these “problem” behaviours emerge. The diagnostic criteria focus on repetition, black and white thinking, or social communication, which is thus even further removed. This criterion is not designed to diagnose autistics—rather the problems neurotypical people have with them. The framework of the last half century around autism has resulted in only a fraction of research dedicated to sensory processing or even the dramatically shortened lifespan autistic individuals face from high suicide rates, self-harm, high incidences of PTSD and more. This is the body of research from which ABA therapy emerges, along with Lovaas’ theory that psychiatric patients require punishment for their symptoms. He received widespread acclaim and several awards during his lifetime. Lovaas’ work in ABA inspired him to apply the same techniques to gender nonconforming children. The project’s poster child committed suicide in 2003. Gay conversion therapy has faced more public condemnation than ABA, despite that both are ongoing. Proponents of ABA and its practitioners claim modern ABA looks nothing like conversion therapy, or the original therapy created by Lovaas. Stock and Elfert echo this sentiment. While fewer ABA therapists use corporal punishments such as electric shock, several institutions still actively use it. Even modern ABA modifications that swap electric shock with the withdrawal of social interaction are refinements designed to make the therapist feel more comfortable. The fact remains—ABA and compliance training is, as Amy Sequenzia writes for the Autistic Women and Nonbinary Network: “violence against our neurology, our identity and our humanity.” This is where doubt and anxiety permeate autistic self-advocacy groups when discerning how far removed modern ABA is from its marred history. The generation of autistic kids who endured Lovaas’ prototype of ABA are now middle-aged adults speaking about their trauma. Some autistic people who have been through strict behavioural modification as children experience post-traumatic stress. Many doctors and professionals such as Stock present ABA to parents as a necessary early intervention, claiming they will miss a crucial window of opportunity if they don’t. The provincial government provides caregivers of autistic children under six $22,000 annually for services, which amounts to a total of around $75 million. In order for a service to be subsidized, it must be on the Registry of Autism Service Providers (RASP). The RASP includes occupational therapy, speech-language pathology, physiotherapy and behavioural intervention. ABA practitioners almost entirely deliver these behavioural services.

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According to Stock and Elfert, there is a 100 per cent employment rate for ABA therapists after graduation. The sheer demand and capital generated by ABA practitioners means the industry holds a lot of influence, despite less expensive—and arguably more humane—forms of intervention. Elfert says ABA routinely evaluates the impact of interventions. “I work with other professionals such as speech language pathologists,” she said. One former board certified behavioural analyst (BCBA) describes how many ABA students report feeling like their university program subtly pushed them away from other professions. “[My university] specifically discouraged us from collaboration with social workers and school psychologists by insulting their professions, students and professionals,” Jo Ram writes for Neuroclastic. According to Elfert, many graduates go on to work for non-profits, as special education counsellors or become teachers themselves. She explains that ABA is an extensive field existing outside of autism focused care. Indeed, ABA’s core principle is operant conditioning, a subset of behaviourism that has many uses in various disciplines. However, in ABA, the compliance code in the BACB code of ethics doesn’t differentiate between a human child and a corporation. Which begs the question of what kind of protection it offers and for whom. Nowhere does it explicitly prohibit abusive techniques or require informed consent from the learner outside a parent, carer, or even a corporation’s signature. It’s a worrying position, given the first imperative of any treatment should be to see the patient as a human being, not a corporation or an abstraction. “[ABA] taught me that who I am is subhuman, increased anxiety, didn’t honour my ways of communication, suppressed my stimming, the movements I used to regulate myself,” wrote Andy Jordyn Carlisle on Twitter. As a non-speaking autistic child from Manitoba, they were subjected to years of ABA therapy at 30 hours a week leaving them with PTSD. Carlisle believes that neurotypical ABA providers can have good intentions and even compassion. Yet they’ve witnessed these providers working with both children and adults that have strongarmed away important autistic behaviours, because of incorrectly attributing intent and motivation. “[The] greatest problem I see with ABA [is] it simplifies autism into only its behaviours,” Carlisle wrote. “Because ABA does not see us as fully human, we are not allowed selfdetermination, unless it is really ‘self ’ but compliant with the therapist’s determination to change us,” says Sequenzia. Poet, mechanic and

academic tutor JayJay Mudridge recounts their 12 years of ABA in an interview with Neurodiversit y News: “I can firmly say that ABA stole my childhood, and the resulting (professionally diagnosed) complex post-traumatic stress disorder stole my adulthood. ABA groomed me for every trauma I endured later in my life.” Mudridge is a survivor of the Judge Rotenberg Center ( JRC), a residential school for ABA in Massachusetts that permitted electrocutions until March 2020. “I still wake up with the smell of my own flesh burning in my nostrils some nights,” they said. These harrowing accounts of ABA are not isolated or unique. Yet they are often drowned out by the air of cult-like reverence ABA garners from neurotypical parents and the BACB, one that seems to marginalize every other approach. “Autistic people should be included in a meaningful way, there’s been a missed opportunity,” says Elfert, which itself seems out of touch. Autistic people have informed the public of their ABA related trauma for years but are routinely silenced and ignored by those in power. When people place themselves as experts in issues that directly affect a group of people they can intrinsically never belong to, and then cause direct harm to that population, what recourse is there for the affected community besides self-advocacy? We’ve seen this dynamic play out before in things like racialized police violence. Perhaps a fundamental issue in psychiatric care is that those whose lives are at stake have never been allowed to hold authority and autonomy over their own treatment or humanity. Violence and institutionalization remain mainstay approaches, and we enforce that Lovaas-esque pedagogy of punishment through educational

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ABA AND RELICS OF THE PAS T

surveillance, police intervention in mental health crises, and solitary confinement. “There’s more interest in [ABA] and more collaboration with autistic people, we’re looking more at it,” says Elfert, though it remains unclear why it’s still acceptable to allow neurotypicals to dominate the field of research and autistic focused therapy. According to Elfert, she has seen several autistic students in the ABA program at CapU during her 24 years in the field, but more recently it’s the parents of autistic children coming to the program in larger numbers. ABA practitioners promote strong scientific backing, suggesting that it works because it achieves its goals. The question remains who these goals are for, and what the more insidious cost of achieving them is. An American study of nearly 16,000 autistic children receiving approximately 30 hours a week of ABA over an 18-month period, showed that ABA had no real effect on autistic traits. Presentation was functionally random regardless if they had gone through up to 6,000 hours of ABA or none. When the entirety of ABA researchers and practitioners claim ABA is an empirical, data driven practice, we need to take that seriously. Subsequently, such studies’ results must carry weight considering the amount of public service funding providing it. Charting the skill acquisition of a child and then directly attributing it as a result of ABA is potentially misleading, and even dangerous. Consider the same logic applied to homeopathy and other things generally debunked as cult-like pseudoscience. The data in this study paints a picture of central limit theorem as if out of a probability textbook, meaning the results suggest a completely random distribution of ABA effectiveness. It’s what we’d expect to see when changes are caused by many, unrelated events. ABA as a discipline seems to neglect that all children develop and learn naturally; and autistic children are no different. If autistic kids cannot effectively communicate or demonstrate their knowledge and intelligence, then ABA data gathered is inherently flawed. “Society attacks early, when the individual is helpless. It enslaves him almost before he has tasted freedom,” wrote revolutionary behaviorist B.F Skinner, often considered the godfather of ABA. While Skinner pioneered many foundational behavioural theories of ABA, he also devoted his life trying to move the world away from punishment. Among his many discoveries was how punishment doesn’t result in learning, it only temporarily suppresses behaviour. Skinner understood that every aspect of our culture was designed for exploitation. He believed grading was a tool of violence against natural developmental processes. Skinner was so distraught, he imagined 32

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a fictional utopia in Walden Two where children could explore their natural talents and interests at their own pace without grades, curricula or punishment. His vision was somewhat realized in things like democratic education, Montessori, and other child-centered and trauma-informed educational approaches that have demonstrated remarkably positive outcomes, including for neurodivergent students. ABA violates many of Skinner's groundbreaking scientific discoveries and beliefs. The Skinner of today would arguably be horrified with what his research has been used for. The real ABA predecessor would be the man who created the field of behaviourism, John B. Watson— arrested for his racialized hate crimes in late 1800s South Carolina. Watson is well-known for his abhorrent applications of classical conditioning in Little Albert, an experiment where he emotionally abused a baby. Yet his books on childcare were considered the standard in the Western world for decades. A testament to his philosophy—both of Watson’s sons attempted suicide. Watson’s principles are still at work in the advertisements for Autism Speaks and other ABAaffiliated associations. Many ABA descriptions are designed to fill parents with fear that their child needs ABA to live a fulfilling and independent life, when that couldn’t be further removed from reality. “ABA is not a treatment for autism, per say, but that’s often how it gets characterized,” admits Elfert. “It’s a whole paradigm with a strong scientific backing. It’s dynamic and continues to evolve.” Her words linger and cling to the frame of evidence-based practice as a lifeline, as if everything piled on top of it could collapse like a house of cards. Maybe it could. The broader field of behaviourism can and does improve quality of life and our daily experiences with the world. Behaviourism is a science after all—and the laws of science have always been amoral. Morality arises from the scientist who chooses to bend the laws of nature into either a Walden Two, or into torture techniques. Watson’s legacy as a racist, abusive man, and the devastation he left in his wake is a testament to his desire for power and control. Our lingering attraction to his work reflects a world built on discriminatory power dynamics. In the words of Skinner, “we are not yet ready to accept the fact that the task is to change, not people, but rather the world in which they live.” There’s a new generation of kids roaming the fields in Dartmouth behind the asylum that once held Putland and thousands of others. Maybe they still see the decaying brick as a monument to fear, or maybe they see it as a reminder that some things are kept safely in the past.

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COVID, Capitalism and the Battle for Life & Dignity in BC Who do the new BC health restrictions really help? CAM LOESCHMANN Contributor JOYCE CHAN Illustrator

The novel Coronavirus has had some interesting consequences in our late capitalist landscape as of December 2020. On Nov. 19, BC Provincial Health Officer Dr. Bonnie Henry introduced a new mandate that ruled, among other things, that mask-wearing was mandatory in public, and private gatherings of any kind were banned. At the end of May, BC’s COVID-19 levels were in the single digits, even as Eastern Canada and the whole of the United States were teeming with cases. However, when TransLink stopped blocking off every second seat on the bus and nonessential businesses were permitted to operate again, cases slowly started ticking upwards. Now, BC is setting new daily case records, and the spread is exponential. The Western holiday of Christmas will arrive shortly after I write this. Despite non-Christian holidays being cancelled or restricted worldwide, this is the first time “that one holiday” is being threatened—or, rather, a lot of plague lovers feel threatened that they might be prevented from celebrating Christmas. Of course, everyone knows that the only true way to get into the Christmas spirit is by going into a lot of small, enclosed spaces, touching many things, breathing on as many shop workers as possible, and spending money to buy gifts for people they don’t like. I, for one, have seen way too many people remove their masks, lick their fingers, and count out cash for me at my day job. For my school-mandated COVID-19 training, I received a handy little chart ranking the most effective ways to avoid the virus down to the least effective. Staying home and keeping two-metre distances from others are the safest methods. Personal Protective Equipment (PPE) are considered the least effective. Yet, PPE is the only thing keeping myself and my colleagues safe during the busiest season of the year. If anyone has been paying attention to how COVID-19 has exposed just how broken our capitalist system is, they know

what is happening here. The wealth gap between the richest and the poorest is becoming a canyon. My customers—many of them upper-middle-class—can hop in their cars and choose to purchase in person. Cafes, shopping malls and restaurants are now some of the only places open for public gatherings, which coincidentally are places where one has to spend money to spend time. What happens to the people who cannot afford to spend that money? Some people choose to take the pandemic lightly. These are the folk who wear their masks below their noses. Who host birthday parties with twenty of their closest friends just because they miss them. My colleagues and I have no choice but to be in public. In order to pay our rent and buy food, we have to use public transit to go to a place where we see hundreds of people insisting on being within two-metres of us. Multinational corporations may get bailouts during this pandemic, but my rent cheque and I certainly don’t. I miss my friends, too. Just like parking laws and environmental regulations are only a dissuasion for those belonging to the 99 per cent, the people who suffer most from COVID-19 are the least able to prevent its transmission. In the next year and beyond, I wonder what the future holds. What will happen when all the healthcare workers, sanitation workers, restaurant workers, factory workers, bus drivers and mall Santas get sick because people got tired of being responsible? Where will my customers go to buy a $700 Hermes scarf, spill McChicken sauce on it, and get it dry cleaned? If you believe that health precautions do not apply to you, I invite you to take a long look in the mirror. This situation is much bigger than you, or me, or my partner whom I miss. Think of the nurses and doctors who have fought this disease with their gloved hands. Think too of the homeless in our communities, left exposed to the elements and the virus this winter.

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BC Should Heed the Signs and Wear a Mask in Class Policymakers would only have to spend one day in a classroom to understand why masks should be mandatory DAHEE IM Contributor SOPHIE YOUNG Illustrator

Wearing a mask in public is the new norm. Everywhere we go, “masks required” signs are increasing as rules become stricter. Without a mask, you can’t go into shops and won’t be served by restaurants. Yet, there are many viral videos about anti-maskers and those who think wearing a mask is threatening their socalled “rights” as a human being despite the many layers of why it’s important to wear masks—even if it’s not 100 percent effective. Now, the majority of public places that see high foot traffic will have a mandatory mask policy. This is simple and makes sense, along with other safety protocols such as hand hygiene and remaining six feet apart. Where this has become blurred is in schools. Sure, sanitizer is allegedly provided for teachers and their classrooms, and policies are being created by school boards and school leadership teams in an attempt to keep everyone safe. The question still remains, why aren’t masks mandatory in schools, and is there a reason they aren’t? Teachers work closely with their colleagues and are even closer in proximity to their children. An ad from the BC government was released showing back-to-school guidelines. The video of Dr. Bonnie Henry standing without a mask in front of a class showing what she projects a classroom will look like, is unrealistic as there are far more children in attendance than shown and space is quite limited in a lot of classrooms. The rules she announced for schools are also inaccurate because this is dependent on the policies the school boards have created and each individual school’s expectations or policies. A simple thirty second video just does not do justice to the realities of an actual classroom. Look, I get it. Masks are another thing to remind children about and they can be forgetful and careless when they become too comfortable in their surroundings. 3 6

Throwing up an elbow or grabbing a tissue is not the first thing many younger children will think of when they cough or sneeze. If masks were mandatory, this could be taken care of. Children may stick their hands in their mouths before touching a peer without a thought or eat finger foods and then touch a toy or communal classroom object. If children were required to wear masks in school, we could prevent more moments of possible contamination and the spread of germs, bacteria and viruses. If wearing masks is one of the most effective ways to help prevent the spread of COVID-19, we should be mandating masks inside schools where there is a huge sea of bodies and immune systems exposed. Policies should be tighter. We can sanitize and wipe down surfaces all we want, but if we continue to breathe and spit back onto the same surfaces, what is the point? We might as well hire our own personal cleaners and sanitizing people— one per student and one per teacher! Some children, especially the younger ones, can’t help being in each other’s faces. They don’t realize how close they are to one another physically, and a mask would help ease some anxiety in this situation. Wearing a mask means being protected more than in the school; it means we’re protecting and being aware of the people outside of our school circles. It just feels like common sense. That there is a huge on-going forum regarding the issue, vaccine or not, should be a humongous sign to policymakers that there needs to be a change. Parents, teachers and families aren’t asking for hazmat suits or to have everything absolutely sectioned off in schools so people cannot be near each other. We are just asking for one simple but effective health precautionary step that can be taken—to wear a mask. Make masks mandatory in schools. To me, it’s just so simple.

How Do You FACTOR This? Canadian art grants should be used to support upcoming Canadian artists, not to pad the pockets of commercialized success stories JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer NAOMI EVERS Illustrator

Grimes is a Juno award winning electronic music artist and former Vancouverite. She also has an estimated net worth of three million dollars and last May, a child with Elon Musk, the second richest human being in existence. So, when she received a Canadian grant for over $90,000, it appeared like a bit of bullshit was going down. There’s no reason why an established artist like Grimes should be receiving money from the government, and in reality, she didn’t… probably. The grant was awarded by the Foundation Assisting Canadian Talent on Recordings or FACTOR. The foundation supports artists with creating songs, album recordings, album promotion and touring. FACTOR’s grants aren’t intended to fund artists fully but rather “provide assistance toward the growth and development of the Canadian music industry both domestically and internationally, with a focus on commercial success.” That focus on “commercial success” is what landed FACTOR at the centre of a brief but potent social media shit storm. The digital backlash came after Grimes was listed as the sole recipient of a government grant worth $90,525. Social media, especially Twitter, was shocked that a famed artist like Grimes was receiving a government grant at all—let alone one worth so much money. In reality, it wasn’t Grimes who received the grant, despite being listed as the sole beneficiary. It was her record label, Crystal Math Studio, that received the funding. In an official response to the online backlash, FACTOR asserted that, “Grimes is not an owner of Crystal Math and Grimes did not receive these funds.” Of course, what Grimes’ record label actually did with those funds is unknown, so she could have received the money after all. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter if the money goes to Grimes or not. What does matter is that $90,525 wasn’t awarded to artists who actually need it. It was given to an established record label. The problem with supporting artists for the purpose of commercial success is that you aren’t supporting an artist

anymore—you’re endorsing a product. The push for mainstream and commercial success is the push for mainstream music, and mainstream music is not Canadian music—it’s American music. Roughly 37 million people live in Canada, while over 328 million live in the United States. Canadian music, and by an extension, almost all of Canadian popular culture is under this tyrannical chokehold of American influence. If you were focused on commercial success, which country do you think the artist is marketed towards? FACTOR focuses on success above all else. Meaning that Canadian art, diversity and identity are all lost in the effort to support mainstream Canadian Artists. But Canada doesn’t need more Justin Biebers. It needs artists like the Tragically Hip or Leonard Cohen. Artists who broke out not because they were marketing towards Americans or following trends, but because they were Canadian and embraced that. Government art grants are supposed to foster and encourage culture. If you push for songs that can compete with Americans, Australians, Europeans and anyone else who sings in English, you lose what makes you special in the first place. The point of a government grant isn’t to create art that can be found anywhere— it’s to make art that can only be created here, by Canadians. Not to fund privileged expats living the American dream. Culture creates culture; it builds upon itself and feeds into the next generation. Without culture, you have nothing to build upon or towards. The inherent problem with Canadian culture is that it’s second hand. We’re a shadow of America, an echo of Europe and an appropriation of the First Nations who were here before us. And while Canada is strong because of its diverse cultures, its own culture is weak. The public outcry that followed the grant Crystal Math Studio received speaks to a problem that has always existed in Canada: Who are we? The point of art is to explore complex topics and make them visible. There’s a hunger for true Canadian art; for stories about what it means to be Canadian. But without a funding system that supports that, it will never happen. OPINIONS

BEHIND GOOD INTENTIONS: AN AUTISTIC PERSPECTIVE ON SIA’S FILM MUSIC Despite claims of writing music out of “nothing but love” for the autistic community, Sia’s angry response to autistic Twitter users proves the opposite LINDSAY FORTIN Contributor GERALDINE YARIS Illustrator

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INTENTIONS. IT’S PRETTY, EASY TO TRUST. BUT IT’S ALSO JUST THAT—AN OBJECT EASILY PUT ON AND EASILY TAKEN OFF. IT LACKS ANYTHING REAL AND STURDY THAT WOULD TURN INTO SOMETHING MORE STEADFAST, MORE TRUE. IT’S ALSO EASILY BROKEN. Sia came under intense scrutiny when the trailer for her movie Music, which follows a nonspeaking autistic girl, was released. Creating anything about an autistic person when you’re neurotypical is not only a difficult undertaking filled with massive amounts of research but also a huge moral and social responsibility. Autistic people, like many disabled people, still fight to be seen as equals to their neurotypical and able-bodied counterparts. This responsibility is doubled if someone is non-speaking or visibly disabled, and it’s one that Sia completely disregarded. The root of the controversy lies not in Sia casting a neurotypical actress to play a nonspeaking autistic character, but in reality, it goes much deeper than that. Sia claims to have spent three years on research for this film. I find that difficult to believe because she doesn’t seem to know the most basic facts about autistic people or the primary issues that we face as a community. It’s especially important to understand and avoid stereotypes when you’re writing about a marginalized community. Most people don’t believe that I’m autistic. Many people tend to think of autistic individuals as “simple,” or “not all there.” This is especially true for nonspeaking autistics. Choosing to depict a nonspeaking autistic girl’s inner world as full of garish primary colours, rainbows, and simple shapes is not only insulting but highly irresponsible. It doesn’t matter that this style is consistent with her repertoire—in this context, it’s damaging, and Sia should have known better. The only way she could have avoided this would’ve been to involve autistics with writing, directing, acting, art direction, and production—essentially at every level. Only we know the problems we face as a community and how that translates into real-life discrimination. Only we could have prevented this mess and turned it into something great. It’s true that I haven’t seen the movie and that I’m basing my opinion off of the trailer and a music video for the film. I wish I could say that I’ll give the movie a chance and that I might be wrong in my assumptions, but Sia has mismanaged

this narrative at every level. She uses functioning labels, which are not only reductive but wildly inaccurate. She patronizingly calls disabilities “special abilities” and doesn’t know that ‘disabled’ is not an offensive term. Part of Maddie Ziegler’s (the actress who plays Music) research was watching invasive meltdown videos of autistic children. And worst of all, she’s aligned herself with Autism Speaks, which many autistics consider to be a hate group that likens autism to a disease that should be eradicated. Their infamous “I am Autism” video only scratches the surface of their beliefs. All of this points to an irresponsible lack of knowledge entirely inconsistent with her “years” of research. When you’re autistic, you often come across eugenicist rhetoric aimed at you. People on social media discuss finding the genes that cause autism and systematically weeding it out as casually as if they were deciding whether or not a top in a store suited them. And of course, we all know the people who would rather let their infant die than be vaccinated. Sia could not even begin to imagine the weight that carries. She cannot understand the weight of her decision to create something centred around an autistic character and how a piece of media can influence people's already warped perceptions. She said herself that she has her own “unique view of the [autism] community,” which is apparent. If she was really an ally, she would’ve listened to us. But instead, Sia hurled insults at autistic Twitter users for their criticism about the movie, growing instantly defensive and insisting that she was in the right rather than taking the opportunity to learn. This movie should never have been made. It reeks of a saviour complex, and of inspiration porn. She even said, stating that the community was “underrepresented,” and that’s what “compelled [her] to make [the movie.]” There’s one thing that’s worse than no representation, though, and that’s harmful, inaccurate representation. The only experts on autism are autistic people, and this was never her story to tell. It doesn’t matter if her “heart has always been in the right place,” as she claimed. Intent will never negate impact.

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THE FIGHT FOR OUR LIVES Expanding medically assisted death is a failure to care for disabled Canadians SARAH ROSE Features Editor VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator

IN NOVEMBER, THE CANADIAN GOVERNMENT RUSHED THROUGH BILL C-7, AN AMENDMENT OF THE CRIMINAL CODE TO EXTEND THE SCOPE OF LEGALLY ASSISTED DEATH. THIS HAS PEELED BACK THE CURTAINS ON THE SYSTEMIC ABLEISM IN OUR COUNTRY THAT COVID-19 HAS ONLY WORSENED.

Now Canada faces a public reckoning over our failure to care for the most vulnerable Canadians, and it is past time our country addressed this insidious epidemic. Only months after Bill C-7 passed a first reading, reports began emerging from disabled people who felt compelled to apply for Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) due to a lack of support. They are just some of the many institutionalized and incarcerated in our abusive and racist prison system, or simply denied any disability support to keep a roof over their head. If disabled people have no hope of surviving, of living, how can choosing death be autonomous when they aren’t given a meaningful choice? Earlier in the pandemic, disabled people were not allowed to bring carers to the hospital. Many protocols list pre-existing conditions as an exclusion for critical care, meaning those with varying disabilities would not get a ventilator or ICU care. The assumption that disabled people automatically have a lower quality of life is, as Dr. Heidi Janz (adjunct professor at the University of Alberta) remarked in an interview with the Edmonton Journal, “terrifying.” This is the ideological battleground from which Bill C-7 arises within the time-honoured eugenicist idea that it’s somehow more “humanitarian” to let vulnerable groups die instead of helping them live. “If people can’t receive enough support to live a decent quality of life, you can now ‘choose’ to die. Imagine doing that with any other minority,” said Dr. Janz. “Until people have a choice in how and where they live, it can never be a free choice on how they die.” Canada is often lauded for its single-payer healthcare system, where patients are promised quality care without prohibitive cost. Outside of some of the longest reported waiting times globally, ongoing care is almost non-existent and difficult to access for those with complex and chronic illnesses. Pushing MAID before

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introducing universal pharmacare or other desperately needed support is a slap in the face to disabled people—as was CERB. The Canadian Emergency Response Benefit (CERB) rolled out in March with almost double the maximum single person disability coverage of $1,183.42 in BC. Qualifying for assistance is a lengthy, expensive, ableist nightmare. Diagnosis alone is a privilege. The wait is anywhere from one to five years to be approved for disability benefits, often while drastically ill, and CERB only took a matter of days to disperse. CERB applicants didn’t have to liquidate their assets to be considered destitute enough to qualify. They weren’t denied multiple times and forced into court to beg for food and shelter, provided they’re lucky enough to get legal aid at all. With CERB, the government admitted it’s not feasible for working, abled Canadians to survive on less than $2,000 a month, yet demand disabled people live below the poverty line. Ensuring Canadians have easier access to MAID than disability assistance is only further proof that the government has never cared about investing in assistance for disabled people to stay alive. In my second year of university, I developed disabling health issues and ended up in some upscale Yaletown office of a psychologist. We went over a lifetime of trauma and undiagnosed illness, which I’d talked about so many times in my life that it’s more like reading off a grocery list. “About 85 per cent of chronic illnesses are unknown,” she said in a reassuring tone. I only felt more hopeless and enraged at the notion. So many of us are fighting for our right to care—to survive. She suggested I was experiencing complex post-traumatic stress symptoms and handed me a print-out to read. When you spend most of your life hypervigilant because of “helpful” professionals who only perpetuate the same trauma and abuse you’ve endured, it’s hard to believe in any other way of

being. PTSD is for veterans, I’d been told. Those who’ve sacrificed themselves to imperialism and come out scarred by the horrors of war. I probably threw out the print-out as soon as I left the office. It’s not like I could pay for another visit. Twelve to twenty-five per cent of those who survive a lifethreatening medical event will develop PTSD; so will 30 per cent of sexual violence survivors—a rate 10 per cent higher than military veterans—and approximately 20 per cent of chronic illness patients. Illness-induced PTSD is real, but like so many of the very illnesses that cause it, it’s not well recognized. According to reports from the Office for National Statistics, one in five COVID-19 cases are still symptomatic at five weeks, and one in ten at twelve weeks. These reports are coming after months of outcry from those experiencing post-COVID disability. I can’t help but fear for the lives this pandemic and Bill C-7 will claim. Instead of meeting the needs of disabled people in untenable economic, health or living situations, the Canadian government has made it clear they would prefer for us to die. Disability is not a synonym of suffering, although it becomes that way when we are denied support for our basic needs. Frequently left out of the conversation is how disability can also come with a sense of joy and pride in our identities, and that doesn’t deserve to be punished or erased. We are different, not less. A magician once told me that an aspect of some illusions is to explain the trick because even when the audience knows the truth, it doesn’t stop us from being subjected to misdirection. We can’t simply be told that practices towards disabled populations are harmful and discriminating while allowing the Canadian government to continue implementing those practices through things like Bill C-7.

OPINIONS

IMAGINING A FUTURE-PROOF RESIDENCE BUILDING CapU’s new residence should be built thinking of its impact on the future, not just the moment WEN ZHAI Contributor MICHELLE LUSSIER Illustrator

In October, HDR Architecture Associates released new renderings for the six-story residence near the BOSA building, with an increased number of rooms compared to the previous estimates in March. CapU students should have a voice in how it’s made, considering the money they’ll potentially be paying. Having been a CapU resident myself for over a year, I’ve noticed that the garbage and recycling is not sorted correctly, and too much water is wasted due to the lack of induction faucets and efficient toilets. There could be more electric hand-dryers as well. These are just some areas where we could be greener in the current building. Over the years, the university has strived to go green and reduce its carbon footprint. CapU has been a participant in the Carbon Neutral Government Program since 2010 and is set to reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 80 per cent by 2050. The sustainability goals rely on reducing paper consumption, upgrading existing buildings and, more importantly, developing new buildings with advanced technology. However, the only current “green” plans for the residences so far are for a green space on the dining hall roof. This is far from green— even by CapU standards. With the continued deterioration of the environment and disastrous global warming symptoms popping up here and there, the Zero Waste Movement has attracted even more attention and gained momentum. According to Zero Waste International Alliance (ZWIA), zero waste is “an ethical, economical, efficient, and visionary goal to guide people to change their practices and ways of life” to encourage sustainable natural cycles of all materials. It is applicable to running a house, a building, a city, or a country. The City of Vancouver recently announced Zero Waste 2040 as a long-term strategic vision to achieve zero waste.

OPINIONS

Zero waste requires the collaboration of many stakeholders, including architects. The City of New York published the Zero Waste Design Guidelines to take building design into account for achieving its goal of sending zero waste to landfill by 2030. In designing a zero-waste building, HDR needs to rethink its current design in order to develop more efficient and sustainable practices. Those changes could include incorporating renewable energy options and materials for things like air-conditioning units, sound controlled lights and water-saving faucets. HDR should also integrate waste reduction operations into the planning phase to design a coherent system where waste could easily be separated, stored and collected. Disposal is often top priority in dealing with waste, making other options such as diverting waste from landfills or incinerators inconvenient. Vancouver threw away about 371,000 tonnes of garbage in 2016. Most of the waste was a valuable resource that could have been conserved, reused, recycled, or composted. Considering the inclusion of a dining hall in the building, it’s important that the design supports organics collection and reduces or diverts food waste. The “take-make-dispose” linear economy is being replaced by a more environmentally-friendly circular economy, which integrates waste as a resource. It is important to have a circular mindset when designing zero waste buildings. In Envisioning 2030, CapU prides itself in being a university inspired by imagination; one that embraces change and innovation to foster a healthy and happy campus community. There’s nothing more meaningful than preparing its students to take on the challenges of combating global warming and conserving scarce resources. Ensuring the on-campus residence is a highperforming, sustainable building is a great way to raise awareness, educate the community and generate real change.

Jami e K u sac k

@rasareth F E AT URED A R T

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Sexless in the City: At least I got f**cked by 2020

JAYDE ATCHISON Columnist

I was drinking champagne alone in a lukewarm bubble bath when we crashed into 2020. I am an introvert by nature, so it was the ideal New Year’s evening because it meant avoiding bar prices, small talk with strangers and trying to find someone to kiss. I swore that I would become a “yes” woman to begin the new decade and explore more local scenes. Like many, I naively thought 2020 would be my year—graduating university, backpacking through Europe and finding love. While I did get to saunter across the stage in that majestic robe, every other plan slowly spiralled down the drain. After a painful break-up two years ago, I finally felt ready to enter the never-ending loop of downloading and deleting the trifecta of dating apps. In February, Hinge, Bumble and Tinder became the greatest leech to my phone's battery. The talking phase began with a handful of people, and I felt like a spicy version of myself ready to play the field until I found the one. However, March came in like a wrecking ball and knocked my mental health on its ass. I lost my job, my ability to hug my friends and, most prominently, my will to romantically engage with strangers on the internet. Dating apps are depressing creatures on a good day, but looking at 67 dead fish in the span of five minutes hit differently in 2020. Once I adjusted to my new schedule of baking, reading and home workouts, the weather had warmed up, and I was more open to the idea of safely meeting people. I went on my first socially distanced date in May, with a guy I had known for years through mutual friends. Through Zoom drinking games and a FaceTime date, quarantine revealed a shared interest between us. We decided to walk around the seawall, six feet apart, on an unusually warm May evening. We talked about ghost encounters, childhood traumas and our love of the horror genre. I made a pact with my best friend that she would be my first hug as soon as Dr. Bonnie gave the

green light on physical touch, so at the end of the date, we air-high-fived, and I went up to my apartment alone. My first suitor of 2020 and I decided it would be best if we remained friends and left our date as a nice catch up instead of the beginning of my romantic memoir. Scrolling through Hinge, I stumbled across two people I had ghosted during my pandemic meltdown and messaged them apologizing for these unprecedented times. They were more forgiving than I would have been had the roles had been reversed, and they were interested in talking again. My second socially distanced date was with a bearded, lanky man with a sweet smile. We sat at opposite ends of a blanket on the sand, watching the sunset on Second Beach. Again, we didn’t break the Public Health Officer’s (PHO) orders and said goodbye with only a longing look. Fast forward two dates, and he tossed out a classic “I have been seeing two girls, and I’m choosing the other” text. Those lucky enough to be coupled up prior to Miss Rona’s arrival would often ask me what it was like to do dates from afar. The answers would be followed with many skeptical looks and questions about the level of awkwardness that comes with the new normal. Yes, it has been an adjustment to the days where restaurants and bars were the spots of choice, and I would live through goodbye kisses that I was too polite to reject. However, I can’t help but feel like I am the main character in a Jane Austen novel, with the only thing missing is our chaperones walking 20 paces behind us, discussing how well suited this match might be. As I quickly make my way into my third decade of existence, it is nice to have nostalgic moments like remembering what it was like to call someone your boyfriend— despite only ever talking on MSN. Going on walks or having safe beach sits alleviates a lot of the pressure that comes with seeing someone. When do you kiss? When is it okay to sleep with them? Which friend do I have

on speed dial today to get out of going back to my date's place? The lockdown created an opportunity to take things slow and weed out all the people looking for a quick lay. Exploring the dating world in 2020 has made it much easier to spot the red flags that pop up in the app world. If someone is against the idea of a Skype date, it’s either a toss-up between ulterior motives or you’re being catfished. Is that pretty girl hugging her brother in that first picture? Keep scrolling down because she’s probably just looking for a third with her partner. If a guy says he wants someone that understands his sarcasm, he probably makes racist or homophobic statements and gets mad at you when “you can’t take a joke.” When I would go on dates pre-COVID, and the person would end up being more vulgar than their profile suggested, I would count down the minutes until I could leave without feeling like I wasted my merlot. I had one FaceTime date with a man that asked me three separate times to take off my top. At first, I thought it was a joke, but then the second two times happened closer together and more aggressively, without a hint of humour. I said I was uncomfortable, and he ever-so-thoughtfully replied, “I won’t screenshot, and if I did—it would notify you!” The greatest invention is the blaring red ‘end call’ button, and I happily smacked it like Pam smacked Michael on The Office. My favourite line to give to people when they are trying to booty call me or break the PHO is, “I asked, and my mom said no.” I think it gives a throwback twist to when I was grounded for being a rebellious teenager. If you want it to be more accurate, replace mom with Dr. Bonnie. No matter how many times I reiterate that I am not looking for something casual, especially in a pandemic, people want to convince me otherwise. To them, I say 2020 is screwing me hard enough as it is—I don’t need some subpar human to get in the mix too.

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Virtual Reality: Screaming From Screen Time

HASSAN MERALI Columnist

The COVID-19 pandemic turned life upside down for students everywhere. As we were pushed out of physical classrooms, lectures moved online, and the Internet became our new campus. Birch, Cedar, and the Library have been replaced with Zoom, Microsoft Teams, and eLearn. We went from sitting in classrooms, staring at instructors and whiteboards to sitting at our desks and kitchen tables, eyes glued to the screen. Staring at a screen to watch lectures. Staring at a screen to do homework. Staring at a screen to talk to project partners. And then logging off, ecstatic to be done for the day, so we can finally take some time for ourselves by … staring at a screen because we’re in lockdown. Given the state of the world it’s not like we’ve had much choice, but since it represents a fundamental departure from the way we’ve grown up learning, the impact of this increase in screen time on student health and wellbeing warrants an examination.

However, most students probably don’t know what an ergonomic setup is, let alone have the money to buy themselves one. If we’re fortunate enough to have an office chair and desk, we roll with what we can afford or are given. And the other solutions to combating CVS, or digital eye strain, are not easily compatible with the demands of modern work or school life. Take the 20-20-20 rule: to avoid digital eye strain, look at something 20 feet away, for 20 seconds, every 20 minutes. It’s easy to do, it’s easy to remember, and it really helps. But I frequently forget to take a break every 20 minutes. When I do remember, I find myself not wanting to drag my eyes back to the screen, relieved that they’ve stopped burning. There’s also the possibility of losing momentum, which can really mess up your workflow and impact your productivity.

learning, and all of them said it had negatively impacted their health and wellbeing. One student said it affects his motivation, making him more “complacent and lazy,” and reported an increase in anxiety. Another student said her productivity has crashed, and because of that, so has her self-esteem. She also feels isolated because she only gets to see people through screens. Some days she feels “physically ill” after logging off, and it can take hours for her to feel normal again. Another student said her migraines are getting worse, and she feels exhausted because remote learning has erased any boundaries between her school and personal life. For those without disabilities, the increase in screen time has added an additional barrier to post-secondary life that’s hard to address in our current COVID-19 context. For those with disabilities, it can mean the difference between passing and failing.

Another recommendation is to not use devices for an hour before bed because the Mental health was a huge issue for postHuman eyes aren’t meant to look at screens blue light emitted from screens disrupts our secondary students before the pandemic all day. According to the University of Iowa natural circadian rhythms. But for a student started. Students have been lobbying schools Hospitals and Clinics, Computer Vision who has classes and a job during the day, the and governments for years to add supports Syndrome (CVS) affected 75 per cent of hours before bed may be the only time they to address increases in student stress, mental people who worked on computers, even have to work on assignments. The special health issues, and suicides. Many have before the pandemic. CVS symptoms coating you can get on your glasses to filter responded by rolling out resources—you include eye fatigue, dry eyes, burning eyes, out the blue light emitted from screens can guessed it—online. In response to years light sensitivity, blurred vision, headaches, be costly, so I settled for the blue light filter of lobbying for more support by student and pain in the neck, shoulders and/or on my phone to give it a cozier orange tint unions and advocacy groups, including the back. These symptoms are caused by a sharp after 9:00 pm. CSU, the provincial government rolled out decrease in the amount we blink when we’re Here2Talk in April 2020. Here2Talk offers looking at screens, the glare and reflection Even before the pandemic started, this was 24/7 confidential counselling via app, phone, of our monitors, the refresh rate of our a problem. Physicians have been warning and online. monitors, dust and smudges on our screens, us for years that we stare at our screens too and the ergonomics of our work stations. much, urging us to take breaks—to leave The increase in screen time due to remote our phones alone before bed, to go outside. learning has made school harder for everyone. The solutions seem straightforward: take Then the pandemic hit, and not only were Like all things, however, it’s hit those who breaks to look away and look at something we told to stay inside, but suddenly school, are already at a disadvantage the hardest. else so your eyes can refocus. Blink more. work and many jobs were moved online. Students with disabilities are struggling, and Reposition your computer monitor to avoid For those who have to use their computers with at least another six months of remote glare. Change its refresh rate from 60 Hz (the to attend lectures, do homework, and work learning on the horizon, many feel burnt out. usual) to between 70 and 85 Hz. Increase the from home—not to mention socialize with Several schools, including CapU, extended font size. Adjust your ergonomic setup so friends and watch Netflix—the increase in their winter break by a week to give students that your screen is 20 to 26 inches away from screen time has been debilitating. and faculty some extra time to recuperate. your face and 4 to 5 inches below eye level. Obviously, the current situation isn’t tenable I talked to a few students about the effects of for the long-term. But for the rest of the the increase in screen time due to remote school year, students have no choice. 4 6

Stories from the Long Walk: Jumbled chronicles of a mother and daughter who chose to amble alongside one another...in Spain CHARLOTTE FERTEY Columnist

It was October 2018. I was walking along a winding, dusty path into a small village in the northwestern region of Spain, where I was hoping to find a shower and somewhere to stay for the night. A little way ahead of me, my mother was saying something I couldn’t hear. My eyes followed her finger, pointing to a small cluster of buildings with a steeple poking out amongst the rusty shingles— finally. We had been walking for thirteen days on the French Way of the Camino de Santiago—an ancient pilgrimage that snakes its way west for 800 kilometres from the French side of the Pyrenees to Santiago de Compostela. It goes through a mountain pass, descending into Rioja vineyards and Spanish sunflowers, through whispering sun-soaked wheat fields. This northwestern part of Spain is made up of autonomous regions, further broken down into provinces, and overlaid by historic communities which predate the other two. We’d left behind Basque Country, rich with its cider and sheep’s cheese, and were now deep in the meseta (the high plateau of central Spain), with its blue skies and sparse trees. As we walked the last few steps into the village, a woman on a bicycle with a basket pedalled toward us and met us, smiling, offering fruit. The dust settling around her boot as she put down one foot to steady her bike and welcomed us. A few steps further, we found what we sought: an albergue, a kind of hostel exclusively for pilgrims. We gladly laid down our 10 euros, claimed our beds and settled in. The village—or rather, the settlement—is made up of residents, mostly older, who have almost become one with the ancient structures that make up their homes; a small shop, operating out of the front room of someone’s house; and a church, which is the largest building in the village.

This is Hornillos del Camino. Population: 70. The rest of that afternoon was warm. We washed our hair and let the heat of the day settle into our bones and, as we rested our feet, the fragrance of saffron and onions wafted into the rooms. We wandered down towards the kitchen and saw our host, tending to a huge paella pan, expertly stirring the orzo and seasoning. She moved with ease as she chatted with pilgrims and answered their questions. She had a tea towel thrown over one shoulder. It was comforting. Before dinner, we walked to Iglesias San Roman to attend the Pilgrim mass, where a small congregation—mostly made up of other tired pilgrims along with a few residents of the town—sat. The locals looked worn, like lifers, and if they were bothered by the strangers sitting in on their service, they did not show it. The priest was energetic and welcoming, and although I would not call myself religious, I felt a sense of connection with his words. He asked the pilgrims from all different countries to sing a hymn from their homes. The American pilgrims said they would sing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” and the priest politely refused this offer with a laugh as if to say, “try again” and asked for something else. The Americans settled on “Amazing Grace,” and my mother and I joined them. We couldn’t think of a Canadian hymn. We wondered between ourselves, is there such a thing? It was a bit embarrassing, but overall, it was all right.

I opted out, but my mother joined the Americans, Germans, French and Brazilians. As the third verse came up, the group went silent—no one knew the next verse, except, of course, my mother. Quietly and sweetly, her voice carried on alone as she introduced the next verse, “Someone’s cryin’ Lord, Kumbaya…” I felt my cheeks burn for her. The group joined in, and I saw her relax again. I was proud. Back at the albergue, we ate paella around a long table in the glass-enclosed sunroom. The red tile warm on my feet and the smell of flan permeated the hum of conversation, a gutlaugh breaking out now and then. This was the best meal someone prepared throughout the whole journey. Imagine that. As we walked out of town at sunrise the next morning, our hearts warmed by the gifts of this tiny Spanish village, I saw a purple passion flower under the crescent moon. We had plans to return this past spring to those lush mornings and hot, shiny plains, but 2020 had other plans, and like many, we had to cancel our trip because of the global pandemic. Some say the Camino starts as soon as you lock your own front door behind you and begin making your way. I would like to think that instead of our walk being “cancelled,” we are actually already on the way, walking together separately—hopefully towards a fork, roads merging, where my mother and I will walk together again.

A tiny woman from Japan, travelling alone, sang a hymn in Japanese. Her lone soft voice, so gentle and clear, felt holy. The priest, who struck me as a sort of embarrassing-dad type, was so excited to have everyone sing together that he suggested we stand at the altar at the front and sing Kumbaya. Yes, Kumbaya.

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What's Brewing? Tea, tisanes, and yerba mate

CAM LOESCHMANN Columnist

Tea, the most commonly consumed beverage in the world, rivals only alcohol and water in influence and scope. We practically worship it, in as many forms as there are leaves on a tea plant. “True” tea has a humble beginning as a medicinal plant in ancient China, with its origin date placed between 2750-1050 BC, depending on which legend is being told. However legendary this plant’s history is, there are a lot of other plants out there, and if we brew them in hot water then we call them tea as well. We often refer to them also as tisanes or herbal infusions to avoid confusion with “true tea,” Camellia sinensis) These come in a wide variety, including barley (mujicha) and kelp (kobucha) in Japan; rooibos and honeybush in South Africa; mint, lemongrass, chamomile, stinging nettle, and much, much more. The sky is truly the limit. Generally when we talk about herbal teas, i.e. any tea that is not c. sinensis, we are referring to a drink that is naturally free of caffeine. There is, though, a giant exception. Yerba mate (ilex paraguariensis), as well as its cousin Guayusa (i. guayusa), are made from the holly tree. They have similar health benefits to tea, such as energy and concentration without coffee’s jitters or crashes. According to Argentina’s Instituto Nacional de la Yerba Mate, however, one cup of yerba mate contains a staggering 78 milligrams of caffeine. Although the Center for Science in the Public Interest’s Caffeine Chart considers this an average amount on their list of tested coffees, among teas, this is startling. Guayusa, mostly grown and consumed in the northwestern parts of South America (Peru, Ecuador and Colombia in particular), is a personal favourite. I like the faint sweetness and gentle citrus flavour. When steeped in a basket infuser, the leaves turn black when they hit the water, which is very visually intriguing and kind of spooky.

My experiences with yerba mate itself are limited. To fill in this gap of knowledge is my dear friend Rocio Bertón Bello, a nineteenyear-old language student from Argentina’s oldest university, La Universidad Nacional de Córdoba. “Mate is very universal. Both rich and poor drink it. In almost all government price control programs, it is considered along with other essentials. You usually give it to kids as soon as they start asking for it. For children, you usually leave them the last mate [brew], almost cold, so they don’t burn themselves and with quite a bit of sugar.” This faintly echoes my experiences with caffeine, as well as those of others from coffee-loving cultures. My first coffees were tiny cups that my father prepared for me as a toddler; overly sweet and cooled with lots of cream. “You need two items for drinking mate that are non-negotiable: a bombilla [a metal straw with a filter at the bottom] and a suitable vessel. The traditional one is a hollowed out cured gourd because it keeps temperature and flavour better.” Argentina is the world’s foremost producer of yerba. The province of Misiones grows the majority of yerba mate trees, which thrive— growing 12 to 15 metres tall—in the humid rainforests of northwest Argentina. Although Spanish colonizers spread mate throughout South America, and eventually, the world, the Guaraní people of southeastern South America have been drinking it, with gourds (colloquially known as mates, from the Quechua “mati”) and bombillas, for centuries before.

your finger over the drinking end of the bombilla, insert it into the leaves at an angle. Don't stir it and don’t move it around, or it will get clogged. Slowly pour water [hot but never near boiling] in the deep end of the mate where your bombilla is, just enough so a portion of the leaves stays dry. The first two or three mates can be at the wrong temperature and/or have a lot of dust. If you're the one making the mate, feel free to spit it out in the sink. If someone hands it to you, just suck it up.” Mate, however, is more than a personal caffeination source. Just as drinking a pot of tea or coffee together is a way of bonding with friends or family, a gourd passed around spreads both mate and camaraderie. “An important part of mate is how when you're drinking in a group, you share the same vessel; one person—the cebador—takes charge of the brewing and passes it around in a circle. Sharing a cup with other people is something some foreigners are weirded out by, but it's very normal to us.” It is this kind of community and culture that we seem to lack in Vancouver. Tea stores may sell yerba mate, but it is with the assumption that you will brew it like tea, steeped and separated from the leaves, what is known in Spanish as mate cocido, or “cooked mate”—torn away from tradition. Even so, it is better than the alternative; if one cannot share a mate with friends and family, then at least the warmth that bleeds through the vessel will keep you company. What, if not that, is tea?

“Fill your chosen vessel two thirds full with mate leaves. Shake it vigorously up and down for about 30 seconds. Now, putting

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Overlook, BC: West Coast Camels: It was more than straw that broke these camels' backs DAVID EUSEBIO Columnist

Twin Peaks, Washington; New York, The animals faced ridicule as residents Only twelve camels remained, the camel Riverdale; Fargo, North Dakota; Hawkins, had never seen a camel before. However, train discontinued, and Laumeister was Indiana. Some strange things have happened Frank Laumeister, a brewery owner, saw threatened with court actions and physical in these cities. Well, at least in the fictional the fast lane to living the Canadian Dream violence. However, a Washington newspaper world. Since I moved to the Lower Mainland, after learning about their weight capacity. suggested that the camels “became footsore, I’ve heard crazy stories about the area. Eventually, most townspeople grew fond and their owners had to decide their Crazier than the stories I’d heard while living of the animals—one jackass pestered the investment was a non-paying one.” in Orleans, Ontario. As I overlooked BC on calf but received justice when the mother the flight to Vancouver, I had a feeling this snorted two gallons of dirty water at him. So, what happened to eight of the camels? was a big valley with big secrets. Photojournalist Don McLeod—not the In May, the camels boarded a steamboat Canadian goaltender—discovered a grave For instance, there was a time when you to New Westminster to begin duty on the for eight camels near Lac La Hache. The didn’t have to go to the dreaded Greater Cariboo Trail. Twenty-two camels arrived; headboard stated that the camels were caught Vancouver Zoo to see camels roam the West the mother and calf had gone missing. The in a blizzard, but it remained unconfirmed Coast; you could see them suffer in our pair were found near Cadboro Bay Road if all eight were buried below. There was at natural habitat! in Victoria, safe and sound … six months least one that didn’t make it to the grave. A later. They were spotted by a boy collecting contractor named John Morris went hunting It began in America (of course) in 1856 firewood who nearly shat himself at the sight in the Cariboo and shot what he thought was when The US Camel Corp. established of the camels. His father, struck with fear, a bear—it was a camel. What did he do with that camels were the best option to referred to them as “monsters” in the papers. him? Well, I’ll let a hotelkeeper explain: transport goods across the Mojave Desert. No one knows if they were reunited with the Their ability to carry up to 1200 pounds rest of the pack in the Lower Mainland. “I have eaten many delicacies in my time, but motivated San Franciscan merchant, Otto for a never-to-be-forgotten dish, give me Esche, to purchase twenty-five camels from On May 17, the twenty-one camels were camel hump.” Mongolia—these had two humps! However, put to work, packing goods over Pemberton when civil war began, the goods the camels Portage. Packers were pleased initially, but a Now, what happened to the other dozen delivered were damaged, and they scared week later, workers began to complain. “We camels? away other packers’ mules and horses. believe these animals do not quite come up Lawsuits were filed, and it became a crime to the expectations of their wonders,” one One died on the banks near Cache Creek to have camels roaming the streets. Luckily, worker stated. after years of dragging a plough on a driver’s this all happened to the Confederates. The ranch. One writer declared, “Mr. Walker camels had to go and there was one sucker By the end of June, the first camel train probably had one of the worst combinations from BC who wanted them. headed toward Lillooet to trek to the of plough animals imaginable.” In the Cariboo goldfields. As they headed over Kamloops Museum and Archives, it was In 1862, twenty-five camels from San Pavilion Mountain, one was kicked out of documented that Mr. Ogden had sold camel Francisco were advertised in Victoria’s the train by a younger camel and fell down meat to the Hudson’s Bay Company. Mr. daily newspaper. It was addressed “TO a precipice to his death. Twenty camels William Henry of the Bitterfoot Ferry, better PACKERS,” so John Calbraith, a packer, remained. Still, the papers continued to known as “Blackfoot Bill,” had a camel. After purchased them to be used as beasts of praise them for “answer[ing] very well as he died in a mining accident, the camel was burden to deliver goods from Lillooet to the pack animals.” This would be the last positive claimed by a Frenchman, then repurchased Cariboo goldfields. He paid $300 USD each comment published about the camels. by Calbraith before it was sent to Manitoba for them; today, that would be over $11,000 to be slaughtered for meat. This camel did CAD per camel. They were sent to Esquimalt One year later, the camels would come to half of the Cross-Canada route! That left in mid-April, but only twenty-three arrived. be despised. A judge’s horse had galloped nine camels. Calbraith was off to a good start. A week later, into the forest upon seeing them, taking he had a replacement for one of his missing the judge with him. The camels gorged on In a rural community between Vernon and camels. Okay, it was a newborn camel. residents’ clothing, pants, and soap bars. Kamloops, Henry Ingram owned three of 5 0

them. As farm animals, they were useless; as household pets, they were a man’s best friend. Eventually, he traded two of them for horses and the pair were never seen again. The children in the Grande Prairie fancied riding the third camel who was on his last legs. In 1905, the camel leaned against a tree

and died. Well, it’s about damn time that one of these camels died peacefully. But, wait, aren’t there six still missing? Well, those have yet to be accounted for. They were probably eaten alive to celebrate Canada’s confederation. I don't have proof,

but there’s nothing disproving my claim either. Also, there’s no evidence that the camels hadn’t birth calves. So, the next time you find yourself between Vernon and Kamloops, take a look around. You might spot something with a hump on its back.

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L i a n n h ua n g

@liann.huang F E AT URED A R T

THE BEIGE

& THE BOLD After months of prolonged isolation, CapU’s business students announce plans to continue wearing chinos and dockers “indef initely” amidst an unprecedented rise in Digital Peacocking JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator

Casually loosening a double Windsor knot, local Capilano University (CapU) business student Jack Keller confidently stated that he had “no plans” to dress down for the foreseeable future despite being in lockdown since March 2020. Sources say he’s still sporting his signature cream-coloured Chinos, and Keller impressed upon this reporter a need to “dress for success” no matter the circumstances. The recent switch to Zoom has hit the CapU business student community particularly hard. Lacking a formal locale to develop and maintain their social dominance, the business student community has reportedly turned to increasingly bizarre methods in order to secure attention in their new medium. This new form of networking, often called “Digital Peacocking” by veteran experts in the field, first emerged in March 2020. The phenomenon, which has since claimed the careers of several dozen students, began with the innocuous use of the Zoom background feature. Desperate to stand out in a sea of beige pants and black shoes, the business student community once again resorted to attempting to one-up their colleagues, resulting in the regular occurrence of students attending classes with an image macro of Spongebob smoking a blunt displayed proudly behind them. These incidents would later be classified as the ‘first wave’ of Digital Peacocking. Frank Jeffries, a business-student-turned-businessteacher described the First Wave as, “Like that iceberg that sank the Titanic, only bigger, and ultimately more costly.” Which Jeffries later admitted is basically just a description of going to business school in the first place. Yet, despite these early warning signs, field experts declared that the initial wave would be over in “two weeks—tops.” In early April, things took a turn for the worse. Digital backgrounds were no longer seen as funny, and an inability to get personal podcasts off the ground was leaving the business student community restless. The tense atmosphere would culminate days later when freshman Susan Lancaster pulled a stunt that garnered her a reported three new LinkedIn connections. Lancaster is reported to have worn “like, a ridiculously tiny hat,” according

to a source that wished to remain anonymous. “From there, the bloodbath really began,” said Timothy Blanc, a lab technician who helps teachers open and close Zoom. In the following weeks, it’s estimated that the Digital Peacocking trend curved dramatically upward. While the business faculty was quick to discourage the Digital Peacocking, they neglected to take the necessary steps to flatten the curve. This inability to act led to a mid-April peak where one in five business students were allegedly dressed garishly in order to stand out. “I was afraid to go to work,” said Jeffries. “These kids were dressed like animals. Like literally Steven Myer was dressed as a giraffe.” The pressure from front line teachers led to a firmer stance by faculty. A full lockdown of camera privileges for the business student community was announced at the end of April. “It was a tough call, but we believe ultimately it was the right one,” said Dr. Petra McLaren, the head of the business department. A lessening of restrictions at the offset of the fall semester reflected high hopes. Both camera and audio privileges were returned to students in the hopes that they would be able to respect university guidelines. After a calm first week, things once again took a turn for the worse. A rogue third year allegedly played over thirty uninterrupted seconds from a personal cassette or ‘mixtape.’ Described as being ‘fire’, the tape sparked a renewed fervour for the Digital Peacocking trend. Almost immediately, cases of Digital Peacocking spiked to numbers higher than in the first wave of the phenomenon. One student was reported to have worn a pirate ensemble, while another played trumpet, despite being muted. “Personally, I think it’s a sort of mass hysteria,” said a man we found on the street. The business faculty came down hard on the business student community at the beginning of the second wave, suspending all audiovisual privileges until a cure for the phenomenon can be found. “It’s really a shame for those of us who had the restraint to dress normally,” said Keller. “I think all you really need to succeed in business is a smart pair of Chinos, Dockers, a winning smile and nepotism.”

HUMOUR

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SARAH ROSE Features Editor JOHN PACHKOWSKY Illustrator

Endless night runs its zoetrope before me a two-faced god moonlight starlight

Follow the eyes like spider webs between four walls in a hall of mirrors backwards forwards

Frenzied soul still drunk on communion wine steeped with the stench of blood smeared across this body like warpaint guiding holy Moonlight! pull the thread tight always forward never left right

Ariadne, Kos, some say â&#x20AC;&#x153;kosmâ&#x20AC;? alien emotion. The unseen beast incapable of grief gravity is just a theory great ones that ebb and flow by the moon clockwise anti-clockwise metamorphosis

I once believed the red pumice moon was a clock stone erodes, the blood dries her body lay curled into a shell left with only the impression of a hand on a warpath

LIT ER AT URE

Virgo Aug. 24 - Sept. 23

Libra Sept. 24 - Oct. 23

scorpio Oct. 24 - Nov. 22

Sagittarius Nov. 23 - Dec. 21

Capricorn Dec. 22 - Jan. 20

Aquarius Jan. 21 - Feb. 19

Pisces Feb. 20 - Mar. 20

Aries Mar. 21 - Apr. 20

Taurus Apr. 21 - May 21

Gemini May 21 - Jun. 21

Cancer Jun. 22 -Jul. 23

leo Jul. 24 - Aug 23

I don’t know what to say to you. You’re on timeout, Virgo. You’re scaring away the hoes...

Ask yourself serious questions this month: are you a gold or a silver kinda person? How many left swipes ’till you find the one? Are you capable of not catching feelings for your FWB? What flavour of cake will be at your wedding?

Watch how you talk to yourself. Do your best to be self-compassionate. You’re adjusting to recent big decisions and tugging on the stick stuck up your ass ever so slightly.

Take a look at what you’re doing more closely. Aim for bigger and better by thinking clearly. I know you’ve been just itching to do something delusional this month, but fall back for a second.

Pick up a cake for yourself and celebrate. It’s not your birthday, but you’re always looking for an excuse to soothe yourself for literally no reason so why not?

Eat more vegetables, Cancer. This is good advice. Feed grapes to the special cutie pie you’ve had your eye on. Fan them with a palm frond in your underwear. This is excellent advice.

You gotta stop adopting people’s energies and personalities into your own. Be straight up, be an adult—mock people to their faces. If that’s too abrasive, start slow by listening to some Rico Nasty.

Keep taking care of yourself. You’re in a more relaxed place than you were last time we spoke. I forgot to mention though, your breath stank then and it still does now. Fix that, please.

Stop fronting—we all know what’s going on here. Take your weirdo energy and put it somewhere productive instead. Maybe try street performing; you kinda look like someone who swallows knives for a living.

You’re feeling more at home in your surroundings at the moment. Take stock of what you have. Aries are big bargainers, so if you’re smart, you’ll be even pickier and cheaper going into this new year.

Think about switching jobs, fields, or entire career paths. Travelling vibrator salesman has your name written all over it.

Piece apart your thoughts and examine your mental processes. Figure out why that problem of yours lives in your head rent-free. Empty out that big head, unload that big mouth, and please get a therapist.

Da l las McKi n n o n

@dal.tonien F E AT URED A R T

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capi lan o cou ri er VOLUME 53, ISSUE NO.5