here & now

here

now

We must not just listen, but learn from these experiences.

NOVEMBER 2020 here & now

E d ito r ial Note In June of 2020, this project began as the heightening of the Black Lives Matter movement swept the globe, inviting the world to bear witness to the ongoing atrocities committed against the Black community. With enduring protest and discussion, blatant inequalities have been increasingly exposed at every scale, further revealing a mangled system of oppression central to the core of many practices. The waves of this movement have propelled institutions across the world to re-examine their complacency in systemic racism. We recognize that our niche, the field of architecture, is academically, professionally, and culturally complicit.

Theory may peddle an architectural appeal to the "universality of human nature", but how might it address the diversity of lived human experience?

Often ignored is how the nuances of such politicized spaces and experiences forgo recognition in our field.

With this project, we attempt to further the conversation and understanding of implicit bias, erasure, and othering as it manifests in the lived experiences of Black, Indigenous, and people of colour (BIPOC). We believe it is vital that we bring focus to uplifting marginalized identities and to call attention to a cause where attention is so direly needed. We want to open the dialogue here and now; "here" describing a place that cannot be detached from the concept of self—parallel to BIPOC identities—and "now" underscoring the urgency to lay these inequities bare.

We hope to decentralize the assumptive approaches to architectural pedagogy and provide an equitable forum for BIPOC experiences, visions, and forms

of architectural discourse in printed matter.

We thank all those who have contributed to this project. This publication belongs to a larger digitally published project, that may be found at www. galtpublication.com. Our website also includes a gathered list of resources for further reading on systemic racism, the ways in which we are complicit, and how a deeper self-examination can instigate action.

In openly discussing these issues, we seek to evade simply evoking stagnant empathy or promoting mollified associations with ‘diversity and inclusion’.

Instead, we hope to directly address inequities, reflect on the key causes and call for readers to similarly engage in introspection. We must not just listen, but learn from these experiences.

here & now

â–ˆ We acknowledge tha University of Waterlo of Architecture is situ the Haldimand Tract, promised to the Six N that includes six miles side of the Grand Rive

â–ˆ We are on the tradit territory of the Neutr the Anishinaabe, and Haudenosaunee peop 4

at the oo School uated on , the land Nations s on each er.

tional ral, the ples.

The territorial land acknowledgement at the University of Waterloo was introduced in 2016, as a small first step in the process of universities responding to the 94 Calls to Action from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada. Published in 2015, this report was a call to action for Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples to address the devastating effects of colonization and thereon, the recognition of cultural genocide and stolen land. With the response of Canadian universities came a series of intentions, but upon implementation, such an acknowledgement may appear as a seemingly void effort. The question of tokenism and pandering brings attention to deeper issues in a reluctance to overturn complacency.

The lack of address and effective ‘response’ has been a circulating point of analysis for the student body, with the creation of Treaty Lands, Global Stories in 2016 and their report, Treaty Lands, Global Stories: Designing an Inclusive Curriculum, published in 2018. Their report details a dearth of a critically inclusive curriculum and the possibilities of expanding architectural design ethos. They ask us to, “...imagine if each school went beyond [acknowledgement], and educated its students about the significance of the ground they walk on every day? What opportunities might open up for each school to connect more fully with its location and context?”

In this reflection, we open ourselves to furthering the process of unlearning and the understanding of our position on land that rightfully belongs to the Neutral, the Anishinaabe, and the Haudenosaunee peoples.

As we commit to opening the dialogue of inequity in the architectural field, we also commit to continuing the ongoing discussion in the context of land repatriation.

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“...listening to the is always the best way forward.�

01

From the Pe rs p e ct i ve of a Re c e n t A lu mn a . . .

But as a young minority, one thing I recognize is often ignored is systematic racism experienced within education.

I’ve always been aware of my race and religion as a kid, but the growing tensions within society and institutions have caused me to become cautious about my actions and careful about what I say, which resulted in me feeling deprived of who I was.

Knowledge itself is important because I believe that you cannot fully implement change until you understand who you really are. I felt that people always wanted me to compromise an identity that was impossible to hide. To water-down my heritage and normalize its extents in order for me to prove and say, 'hey, don’t be scared,

in race and gender. I felt that relationships with my peers made a huge difference throughout my educational experience. I became more confident about my heritage and who I was, simply through having open discussions and dialogue about culture and worldly issues. In honesty, I learned the most and had the best support from my classmates. And going back to Waterloo for my master's was probably the best decision I made, because it gave me the full freedom to explore my culture without abiding by studio-based requirements that were mandatory in other institutions.

in academia

“I’m thankful that the school has always provided an outlet and opportunity for students to question and explore their own areas of interest. I am grateful for the skills I’ve learned, the places I’ve visited, and the friendships I’ve made that have shaped the person I am today.

This was a chance for me to tug on forgotten roots, to ask questions about my relevance with respect to the changing world. I got amazing support from my supervisor, staff, and peers, which kept me motivated along the entire process and journey.

A final critique would be that students shouldn’t feel that they have to wait until master's to experience the liberation in their studies and implementations of a diverse education.

I’m just like you'.

It was hard for me to see the beauty of differences outside of what was deemed to be standard. And personally, I knew my identity was not a trend, it’s embedded throughout my everyday actions, and starts as soon as I wake up.

Any changes, regardless of scale, is always beneficial, because it definitely is going to take some time to re-think and re-design a system that has been in place for centuries. And primarily, listening to the voices of students is always the best way forward.”

Though, there were times during my undergraduate education where I felt like I was told to conform, to accept the given curriculum because we didn’t really know architecture. But later throughout the years as a teaching assistant, I always found it beautiful to see the incoming classes become more diversified

- A Recent Alumna 02

here & now

▉1 “During

our 2A trip to New York, I was with an adjunct trying to find our way to a site. We were lost and I was worried about missing my prayers since it was getting late, and so I asked if I could make a quick stop to pray somewhere quiet.

Instead, the adjunct told me to pray out in the open, right there on the sidewalk where we were standing. So I did.”

█2

“A student asked our global urbanism prof why the name of his course referred to ‘global urbanism’. He was confused. She explained that most material presented in the lectures was still overwhelmingly western, and the non-western examples were almost always presented in comparison to western standards. He became very defensive and claimed that there were not enough sources available to make his course global. After a somewhat heated argument with our class, he told us the material for future students would be more ‘exotic’. Many of the individual case studies assigned in cities outside Europe and North America were by foreign Europeans imposing master plans abroad (e.g. Henri Prost’s Casablanca Master Plan). Why is it so hard for non-western forms of urbanism to be respected as valid precedents in their own right?”

“Why is it so hard for non-western forms of urbanism to be respected as valid precedents in their ?” █3 “When I was in 1B, they added a single additional reading about mosques to the cultural history course to make it ‘more diverse’. We never got to it. At least our class was never forced to read the Bible like so many of those before us.”

03

“It pisses me off that 3A studio adjuncts and guest critics are always so quick to liken unsuccessful student proposals to housing projects and ‘ghettos’. Why is the assumption always that shitty spaces belong to low-income residents and why is it so hard to imagine successfully designed spaces as having the potential to be inclusive?”

in academia

█4

“...why is it so hard to imagine successfully designed spaces as having the potential to be ?” █5

“[I] tried to work with precedents outside of the western canon in 2A studio (2018). This resulted in every desk crit becoming an argument regarding the merit of my culture’s architecture and attempts to steer my work towards western precedents instead. When I resisted I was told that my project ‘would not work in Toronto’, which was irrelevant as we were told this project had no real site other than ‘the city of today, tomorrow.’ Students shouldn’t face barriers when attempting to explore architecture outside of the western canon, and faculty should not be questioning the merit of a culture’s architecture which they know nothing about.”

█6

“During studio, a prof once started speaking to me about a project I didn’t know. I let him know I hadn’t heard of it before and he realised I was a different student than the one he had previously spoken to. He said, ‘Oh, I’m sorry! You all look the same!’ and I laughed it off.”

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here & now

█7

“I’ve never had a Black professor, adjunct or guest critic.”

█8

“I almost chose to drop out of UWSA before 2A, because after a year at the school I couldn’t imagine one day creating spaces that would benefit my own community. Even then it was clear that the design industry is largely for the wealthy and privileged.”

“How can we be engaged in the broad of society?”

█9 “As a Black student, I find a lot of other students feel tempted to touch my hair too often.

When I told one of my friends that this is a microaggression, he said ‘that’s not a real thing’.”

10 “I always seem to let out a deep exhale at the █ end of each school term. Not necessarily because the deadlines and late nights are over, but because it always marks a return to a time where I can once again swap out Corbusier’s Towers in the Park for Robinson’s Langston Terrace Dwellings, Maurice Hawlbwachs for Carter G. Woodson, and Hannah Arendt for Ella Baker. Sometimes I’ll catch myself yearning for my final term to come and go, for this final exhale, for a permanent state in which the celebration of great Black thinkers has an everlasting place.”

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11 █

[Studio Coordinators, 2014-2019]

“75% - ‘old’ white males 89% - white males 11% - women 100% - white 0% - colour White voices for white space. These numbers represent a society from the past. The reality is that we are taught by this white voice representing a false reality. White voices for white space.

What, [then], are the kinds of spaces, people, and functions we are equipped to face? How can we be engaged in the broad spectrum of society? If this system does not cease to exist, we as students, educators, and aspiring practitioners of the built environment are complicit in continual exacerbation of racial discrimination, gender inequality, systemic injustices and societal unrest.”

- Johnathan Subendran 06

here & now

Racism is I ns t i t ut i o na l i s e d, a n d We a re t h e In s t i tution The following was written and read by Simone Delaney, to the School of Architecture at an all-school meeting entitled, “Against Racism” held on June 9th, 2020.

“As one of the few Black students at Waterloo Architecture, there are many things I would like to say after 4 years at this school. I refuse to believe that as a collective, members of the faculty and the undergraduate/graduate student body have been unaware of the barriers to diversity that exist at this school.

Anyone who walks the hallways of our satellite campus would know that something is off.

In the initial email sent to students during the resurgence of the BLM movement, the school described itself as a beacon of evidence-based truth thanks to the amazing work of Robert Jan. To be clear, when saying this it is in no way my intention to diminish the pain of the atrocities that took place in Europe during this time period in any way.

These were obviously horrible atrocities. I am just wondering why exactly these are the only horrible atrocities we choose to speak of.

Why do we count the bodies of some events, but choose to bury the death toll of others? How many of us are counting the bodies of the congolese in the face of Belgian imperialism, or the Beothuk - who were completely eradicated in Newfoundland? We need to discuss the severity of the horrific imperialist and colonialist exploits throughout Afro-Eurasia, and tie them back to the interrelated genocidal colonialist exploits that took place on Turtle Island + throughout the Americas. Most educators describing these histories would 07

not even qualify these events as genocidal. However, at Waterloo Architecture it is worse, because its coveted cultural history program barely touches on any of it at all. Faculty members who are educated on these issues, but choose not to teach them, are not simply being complicit, because that is not strong enough wording. You are overtly participating in the institutionalized burial of minority voices, which, particularly in a North American context, should center around both Indigenous and Black stories.

We cannot be describing ourselves as a beacon of evidence-based truth in the face of injustice if we cannot even talk about the injustices that took place on the land we live with. This is the same land so many of us will go on to design with. Racism is institutionalized, and we are the institution. There is an overwhelming lack of diversity in regards to Waterloo Architecture’s faculty members. To a large degree the curriculum reflects those who are teaching it.

Every student at this school knows that the vast majority of faculty members are white cis men. It is no wonder that our curriculum is insidiously eurocentric, despite most students coming from non-European backgrounds. How is it that the 2B cultural history course covers the period of enlightenment, romanticism, and events up to the 19th century, yet somehow does not cover the colonization of the Americas, triangular trade, Indigenous genocide, or the trans-atlantic slave trade?

We simply must do better. When we speak about Enlightenment philosophy and the French Revolution, I want to also learn about the Haitian Revolution, and how despite being violently exempt from the humanist principles

It is time as a school for us to assess these barriers to diversity rather than continuing to ignore the problem at hand. The majority of our students come from the GTA, which is full of Black residents, yet there are barely any Black students who are accepted. There are barely any Black students who even apply. Why is Waterloo Architecture one of the most expensive design schools in Canada, yet there is a lack of financial aid available for students coming from minority communities? Why is there no curriculum that is engaging for students from minority communities? Why is the faculty so undiverse that we cannot

ensure that they will advocate for Black and Indigenous students? It shouldn’t be left only to the handful of Black students to ensure our school is reformed.

You all have to check yourselves. If you feel guilty right now it’s because you are guilty. In the eloquent words of Tupac Shakur, The Hate U Give Little Infants Fucks Everybody up. Maybe not all of us are little infants, but we sure are all fucked up.”

in academia

of their colonizers, the slaves of SaintDomingue led the first successful rebellion leading to control of a former colony. When I see the University of Virginia being shown as the first precedent for 3A studio, I want to also see the humanity of the slaves that built it and the mass graves of the slaves that are buried under it. Why was race only discussed for one course during one three hour lecture in which the N word was used?

And then we wonder why non-Black students are unaware of the inappropriateness of using the N word at our beloved coffee house. Why did one professor describe hip-hop dancing as 'African and primitive'? And why is it that when students have raised related issues in many of our courses, much of the faculty has been reluctant to accept such criticism.

Given these circumstances, how can our students be expected to graduate as designers that prioritize Black and Indigenous lives? Anyone who walks the halls of our schools would know that there is a diversity problem. You are all aware that the number of Black and Indigenous students at this institution are disparagingly low.

- Simone Delaney 08

09

We simply must do better.

here & now

10

“

�

assess these barriers to diversity

here & now

Words with an Incoming Student The architectural pipeline is not at the forefront of any in-class discussions. It seems that in our altruistic hopes to design for the greater sake of the public sphere, we neglect to examine the reflection of our civil position as a profession. The ethics of the field itself are seldom explored in the undergraduate experience, yet now more than ever there is an increasing exposure of the disparity in those who lead the profession, spread its pedagogy and invariably control who does and does not feel welcome.

Architecture must be more forthcoming for whom it serves and those involved. This means removing an air of mystery and exclusivity that it often enshrouds, and making it accessible to all students - particularly when they are not of a legacy or have not had any previous exposure.

This is one primary reason as to why certain BIPOC students are less likely to see architecture as a viable career option. And even when these designers pass this goalpost, they are then confronted by the profession’s lack of varied representation, creating a staggering retention problem.

I spoke with Aashka Shah, an incoming student to the School of Architecture to discuss the social barriers of pursuing the field for her and the cultural stigma that permeates in such a decision before starting at the school.

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May I ask how the thought of pursuing architecture came into your periphery?

Around grade 10, I was considering what I wanted to do with my life—my dad asked why not architecture? I said okay...but I started thinking about it. I felt that maybe I wasn’t really good with art. But then, I spoke to my cousin who is actually an architect in California.

She told me about her job and buildings that she’s designed. That’s what really inspired me to apply!

If you didn’t have your cousin in architecture, would you have had any other exposure to architecture?

I wouldn’t have. I did a lot of online courses and searching, but I wasn’t able to really get a feel for architecture. Even searching it up, I didn’t know if I’d be any good at it. If I didn’t have my cousin, I don’t think I would have chosen architecture as a field.

Did anyone come to your school or did you have anyone to talk about architecture as an option?

in academia

“…I wasn’t able to really get a feel for architecture.” it. But, with architecture, I didn’t have anyone talking about it. A lot of people are going to Waterloo, but that’s for engineering—so that’s half of my class —and the other half is going [into the] medical field.

Did you find there to be any cultural boundaries that encouraged you or discouraged you?

Being from an Indian family, there’s a lot of pressure put on the math and science fields, not from my parents, but a lot of my other family. My grandparents, cousins, uncles, and aunts all have [kids in medicine. At first, I didn’t know if maybe…I’m supposed to go into medicine? A lot of my family didn’t know what architecture really was; my cousin was the first in our family. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

Even now, with my sister going into medicine, they all say it’s such a great career opportunity for her. And they don’t say it directly, but I feel like it’s not the same for me because they don’t know what architecture is, they [might not] think it’s as good an opportunity.

No, I didn’t. My school was very math and science-oriented, I knew about that sector because everyone spoke about 12

here & now 13

“This hadn’t been the first time I had been questioned about , , or even ...”

Throughout high school I was constantly peppered with the questions of ‘where are you really from’ and ‘wow I can’t even hear your accent’ despite being third generation Canadian. People didn’t associate how I looked with a family [that had been] in Canada for more than 100 years. People would also dismiss my opinion because of my Asian heritage; I can’t count how many times I was told, ‘it’s because you’re Asian’ or ‘that’s so Asian of you.’ It was frustrating because I was consistently not heard, because of the way I looked. This all starts to make you question your own abilities. Maybe you really just express lackluster opinions or have a general lack of knowledge.

I thought education would be the answer; ‘if I could just get a degree or two from a prestigious university, maybe people would start to listen to me.’ So like many of you reading this, I went to the University of Waterloo, and attended the architecture program. Once I was done both my degrees, I returned home (broke) looking for a job. Thankfully, I was offered a job by a contact that I had known in my community, and I was quickly swept up and started design work for a small residential firm. I did a lot of good work at this company, in fact a couple of the projects have won Canadians awards in design and the clients felt similarly about their homes. Finally, I felt like my voice was being heard and my work was being seen for its quality, not the person behind it.

However, for one client in particular, this was not the case. We started a new project with a husband and wife looking

to tear down their home and build a new one. On our kick-off meeting we met with the wife while the husband was away at work. The design partner and myself started to explain the process to the client. Once the contractual portion was explained I stepped in and began on the design component, but a few sentences in the wife stopped me and said ‘I’m sorry, but why are you here?’

at work

“Growing up of Asian descent in a relatively conservative city in Canada, I was used to being looked at differently.

I was a little shocked at the forwardness of the question and the confused look on my new client’s face - we had just met.

‘I work with the partner and we’ll be designing your project’ I replied, but just as quickly she retorted ‘Oh so you’re the intern then?’ still confused about who I was. ‘Actually, I’m the project manager and I oversee all the design projects, including this one in the office.’ She was stunned and clearly taken aback by my response. ‘Well, how much experience do you have, and did you study architecture?’ she once again asked, this time a little bit agitated about why I was defending myself.

I started getting confused as to why I was being grilled about all of this, but remaining professional I said, ‘Well I have about 5 years of experience at different firms and I have an undergrad and masters from Waterloo.’ This was not the end of it though - she quickly replied ‘Well, how much of that was internships then, and where did you work? And so, you only have one degree?’ She paused and then asked 2 more questions: ‘How old are you anyways? And you weren’t born here then, were you?’ This was a lot to take in at one meeting, but I explained to her that I had worked all over the world, that 2.5 years of experience were internships, but another 2.5 years were spent between my degrees working 14

... as an associate at another design studio.

I also explained that I was 30 years old and that I and my parents had all been born in Canada.

She was again very surprised, but said I looked very young and it must have been because I was Asian. So, after 15 minutes of being grilled we were finally able to resume talking about design.

This hadn’t been the first time I had been questioned about my age, abilities, or even citizenship, but it had been the first time in a professional setting. I was a little heartbroken, considering the partner who I was sitting beside was not exposed to the same line of questioning, nor did he jump to my aid during this... ‘conversation.’ I thought, ‘we worked through it, and I’ll get to do a pretty cool project’, so we finished the meeting, I went back to the office, and I started the residence.

After designing an awesome home and having two great reviews with the wife, we were finally ready to finalize the design, and the husband was attending the last meeting with us. I had done the vast majority of design work, so I did the entire presentation; starting with the inspiration of the project, and then going room-by-room with the intentions for each. At the end of the meeting the two of them were thrilled and the husband couldn’t believe ‘just how talented I was.’ I was glowing.

So after the meeting I had another site visit, and then went back to the office late in the afternoon. I had one email from the husband and wife. They had loved the design, but had a couple questions for me - ‘What was my experience as a designer, how much responsibility did I have, and what was my education?’

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This time it was the husband asking. I quickly wrote out a response explaining my background at the company and my various experiences and education, not thinking it would be a problem. They quickly emailed back, and they responded by asking if it would be okay to look at my LinkedIn profile as well, which I was okay with.

A day later myself, both partners, and the accountant got an email stating that the couple felt it had been irresponsible to have let me design their home given my lack of experience, lack of expertise and junior position. They couldn’t understand why such a junior designer would be given so much responsibility.

Hence, the clients decided to immediately terminate their contract and ask for the deposit back. There was a bit of a panic and many phone calls but their minds were made up - they did not want me working on the project, and hence did not want the firm either. This was hugely upsetting. I felt like it had been my fault and I had done something wrong, even though I couldn’t put my finger on it. I was comforted by the rest of the firm and told I could have the day off.

The next day however, the design partner came and spoke with me stating that one of the reasons we had lost the contract was my ‘lack of gravitas.’

Again, I was confused, and I asked for clarity around that. I even counter-argued that the clients had both loved the design until they realized I had done it.

My boss couldn’t define it other than I needed to have more presence in the room. I felt I had spoken confidently, prepared for the presentation, and had been clear in my communication during the presentation and couldn’t under-

and created really beautiful spaces for people who appreciate them.

at work

stand how to achieve more gravitas. I finally caved after the ensuing debate and said I would try to develop more of this quality, despite not really understanding what he meant. Did I mention that the clients, my boss, and the rest of the firm were all white?

Though the promise of a good project may be enticing, it’s never worth degrading yourself or your talents simply for a paycheck or perceived opportunity.”

Though not explicitly said, my Asian heritage did not inspire the confidence needed for a professional to succeed in this situation. The clients couldn’t understand how I possibly had achieved the education, experience, or even age to be competent enough for the project’s success, and my boss could only attribute it to my personal presentation.

Though I had gotten two degrees from a prestigious university, I still felt like I was [again] being judged for the way I looked rather than for the skills that I possessed.

I eventually left the company. [Despite] winning them multiple awards and having clients very happy with my work and project management, I was constantly reminded of my failures on that project and my lack of gravitas.

Workplaces are hard. [You] never know who your clients are or [what] their personal perspectives [may be], and you may [subsequently] find yourself defending your ethnicity. Even this is challenging, but to then have to defend yourself inside of your workplace feels like a tidal wave going over your head.

It’s important as professionals [that] we stand up for each other, and for the abilities and competencies of our colleagues, rather than judging them based on their outer appearances. I’ve learned it’s also important to surround yourself with people who see your value; as a designer I know I’ve done lots of good work, 16

here & now

C an You Fre nc h K i s s D u r i n g Ra ma da n? ▉ “This is the courtyard of Cairo’s AlAzhar Mosque, established as the city’s first in 972. I modelled it in Rhino back in 2018, somewhere in Europe. It was my white boss there who first introduced me to it, much to my surprise. No professor or employer had ever mentioned a mosque before. Now, I was hearing it alongside European medievalism and modernism, as part of an intellectual discourse on interior spaces. Strangely, I felt validated. ▉ The courtyard is original, the only space dating back to 972. It leads into a beautiful interior sequence of pointed arches set upon columns, sometimes clumped in pairs and triplets. The building is not only of considerable architectural value but has a complex history as a cultural, political and religious space, constantly evolving with Cairo. The East is not stagnant. ▉ At the office, Al-Azhar is an aesthetic.

It is the architectural equivalent of me, the Muslim intern. That is why I am told to model it. And because it has pretty columns. It’s plain tokenism, but weirdly I feel some distorted gesture of inclusivity, which has been missing these three years into my architectural education. ▉ As I write this though, I am learning that it is not just a mosque. A quick search online tells me that Al-Azhar is also the world’s second oldest continuously operating university. I should know this already, but I don’t. ▉ My mind is instantly cast back to a certain first year cultural history lecture on the origins of the university institution. I remember the oldest was also first established as a mosque, in Morocco.

But there is no mention of mosques, nor Africa. Only Europe. That’s how erasure starts.

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A se r i e s of di s j o i nted reflec tions. at work

▉ 'If I can’t even eat anything, why would I French kiss while fasting?' This is the response I give my boss a few summers ago when he asks me The Question, harping on technicalities, trying to find loopholes in my logic. A trademark of the all too familiar, white cis male architect-intellectual-provocateur archetype. It is the first of many, pertaining to my faith, identity or skin colour. But all questions and jokes are on the table now, since it was a mosque that I modelled after all.

Acknowledgement in exchange for a little provocation. Plus, he says I can use his daughter’s nursery as a place to pray. ▉ A place to pray. Under the stairs near Melville. Three years, until they dedicated the space on the third floor to a multifaith room. I should have asked for one in 1A, for others and for myself. It would have avoided a lot of dusty knees and banged heads. But then again, I’m surely not the first student to pray at this school. ▉ It’s fashionable to put diversity on parade. Just look at our student body! But not too closely. Never mind the faculty, they’re here for the students. Our curriculum is not a mirror, but it reflects our journey. All roads lead to Rome. ▉ Rome is 2130 km north west of Cairo. ▉ 'You know, I have never met anyone like you before.' Paradoxical parting words from my boss. But there it is again, that sense of validation. It’s all a cruel colonial trick. The polite repression and derision of Others, only to be fed back to the colonised as nuggets of culture and wisdom. ▉ Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, and the shame’s still on me.”

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here & now

12 █

“I was always excited to be greeted by the familiar 'Hola!' and the short back and forth that would follow. This was from the gentleman who collected the garbage from under our desks at the end of each workday; we had formed a warm comradery of sort during my time on coop. And while a fully Hispanic cleaning staff in an overwhelmingly white office was always deeply unsettling to me, our daily conversations were often the only moments of BIPOC solidarity I had during those four months.”

13 “We had a design charrette where another white █ male and I were the only interns during the session. I worked 2 weeks on the site model we were showing the options on, and the final design we decided to go with was based on my iteration.

He was the one who got to present the whole proposal to the partners and the client, and was recognized as the 'young man with unbelievable potential'.”

“...our daily conversations were often the of BIPOC solidarity I had during those four months.”

14 █

“In early February I had come down to the lunch room to heat up my food, then a few colleagues sat down at the table to eat. I joined in on the usual small talk going around until it hit a mull. Trying to continue the conversation I openly asked, 'are you all joining the office dim-sum lunch next Friday to celebrate Chinese New Year?' Most of them were in favor of the free meal and social event, but one had spoken out. 'I think I’m going to pass - with this whole virus going around I’d like to avoid anywhere there’s gatherings of Chinese people'.”

- Brandon Lim 19

at work

15 “After my first co-op, I realised the current █ mode of the profession was very much not built for people like me. It sometimes feels like an utter fluke that I’m even here and I question my position as I’ve progressed. It’s a luxury profession.

Especially for people with enough privilege to to have their rents paid by others as they slave away in unpaid internships, hoping for a moment of recognition that may or may not come. The irony of working on a multi-million dollar home while living in a boarding house with four other roommates is incredible.

“...feels like an utter fluke that I’m even here and as I’ve progressed.”

What’s more incredible are firms that reserve intern houses, crammed with bright-eyed students paid the absolute minimum that the country will allow. These are the very internships that schools and firms will boast, well aware of the horrid conditions these interns face. The biggest irony [is that] we proudly wear these experiences on our sleeves, accepting such a fate while simultaneously designing social housing projects, subtracting every extraneous program we can in hopes we could one day afford such a place.

Of course, it’s not everyone’s narrative. Many architects and students undoubtedly pour their souls into their work. But, those boards of recognition sing to their own tune of who is and who is not celebrated, and it’s no secret to see.

Times are changing and maybe it’s time to no longer glorify old white men whose ‘innovation’ continues this unhealthy legacy, perpetrating a culture against ‘those they seek to help’, while alienating Black and Brown people for decades.”

20

“If our public lives are so often coloured by whiteness, how might this affect our ?”

21

At Ho me

When discussing race, phenomen-ological theorists use the concept of a 'second skin' to describe the performative quality of non-white existence. Second skins protect and deflect, producing emotional labour for non-white bodies as they maintain an external layer in society. Sara Ahmed writes, 'If the world is made white, then the body-athome is one that can inhabit whiteness.'

The body, before it becomes subjected to a white gaze, is contextualized as 'athome'. Reflecting on my own perception of home and the melancholy surrounding race, I question the experience of home-space for diaspora and people of colour. If our public lives are so often coloured by whiteness, how might this affect our experience in private? Does the home function as an outpost for a white world—a place with no external gaze? What might we expose if we take Ahmed’s 'body-at-home' literally?

On a summer night in Harlem about two years ago, I attended a school production of Lorraine Hansberry’s ‘A Raisin in the Sun’. The set did not move much; the drama transpired almost entirely within the home. The story follows an African-American family who are about

to receive a hefty insurance cheque but are beset with conflict over competing dreams of what to do with the money.

Vying for a new house, the mother claims that it will make a difference when the family can walk on floors that belong to them. Her desire echoes the family’s need for a home-space of their own. This idea is reiterated throughout [the performance] as the house becomes a place to reflect on the whiteness of the outside world in 1950s Chicago.

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“Snipped rose stems and a lit stick.

Resins, gums, spices and flowers burn with the familiar aroma of seeds and lentils. These walls contain a cultural memory of my parents’ homeland: portraits of gods, small statues, a brass bell, the heat. When I was five years old, we moved west of Toronto to the sprawling houses inching the Southern Ontario greenbelt. Before its influx of immigrants, the whiteness of a growing town established an interiority within.

Our home was an outpost—seemingly remote yet offering a feeling of security.

If public space is made white, the experience of private space for diaspora and people of colour becomes something very different. The term 'diaspora', historically describing the forcible expulsion of the Jewish from Babylon, carries with it a sense of loss and longing for the homeland. As such, the interiority accompanying race relations manifests at home; the lack of need for a second skin creates a strong attachment to homespace.”

- Mayuri Paranthahan 22

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Voidance “Several years ago, I had the incredible opportunity to work in a Scandinavian country that I jumped on. Having never been to Europe, I was ecstatic. Four months of cycling, working with a fantastic firm, and enjoying the hygge lifestyle seemed idyllic.

And by the end of April, I had four days off in which I was grateful to have my mom and sister come to visit. During the day, I showed them everything we could reach; all the things I got to experience for the first time during those four short months. The country had truly dazzled me and I was overjoyed to show them its beauty. We stayed in the home I had

“

They shook their heads and told me it was just a complaint from concerned neighbours asking that they investigate.

It was in the second that I closed the

invalidation

been renting, as they used the vacant bedrooms my roommates had occupied before departing earlier that month.

On Easter morning, we had a knock at the door. We weren’t expecting anyone and the landlord wasn’t set to come back for a couple weeks. I was greeted by two police officers, asking in English if they could come in and speak with me.

I immediately panicked. Seeing the police as a foreigner, I promptly explained who I was, that I was a Canadian working as an intern, that my family was visiting me for a couple days, and that we all would be off soon. My family 23

watched as I briskly pulled out all of my employment paperwork, visa information, and showed them each of our passports. They silently jotted down my responses and took photos of everything. Confounded and a bit shaken by their presence, I apologised to them on their way out and asked if there had been a noise complaint or something of the like, and if there was anything I could do.

door that I realised this interaction wasn’t typical. They were concerned about what? They wanted to investigate what exactly...?

I admit that I was quite ignorant to the weight of racial tensions in Scandinavia before my internship. I hadn't known much about the plights of the Roma or Sámi. Or about the growing sentiments of nationalism as non-western immigration increased across Nordic countries.

But, I was well aware that the neighbourhood we stayed in was a homogeneous suburb. Clearly Scandinavian and relatively far from the city centre where you may expect to see a family like ours.

I sat on my bed with my head in my hands after they left, trying to rationalise what just took place. I had never had an encounter like that before. I simply could not understand why or what really trans-

police to be called. My stomach churns knowing that it wouldn’t have happened if we didn’t look the way we do. Thankfully, that visit happened without any further issue and I certainly acknowledge how lucky I am.

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I knew we stood out when we toured the small streets. I knew I didn’t look like my fellow cyclists as I commuted to work. And I learned further into my term that there were laws in the country that specifically designated enclaves for refugees. People that I look like. I also learned recently that last year this country pledged to ‘rid all ghettos’ by 2030 starting with 'ghetto' designation and stern assimiliation programs.

But, it still viscerally burns knowing that I am not alone in these types of interactions. That many faces are judged by merely existing. What if we weren’t 'Canadian'? What happens when one isn’t so lucky?

I’ve told the story to a couple friends, some acknowledging how upsetting it is. Some shuffling in discomfort, telling

” pired. My mom sat beside me, letting me know that these things just happen.

Don’t think about it, people are just like that. When I think back on it now, she said something similar when a group of white teens threw rocks at our car when I was ten, calling out slurs and telling us to go home. This was not as overt.

But then again, who am I to judge their country? Who knows what suspicions they had? Those questions don't take away from the fact that from none other than our appearance, those neighbours believed that we shouldn’t have been there. That we did not belong. That my family was a threat. Enough for the

me that it was likely nothing and that I’m just overreacting.

The invalidation wears on me even more.

I could describe how I lived in those four months for hours, tracing every place I went to and exactly how my family vacationed during their stay, but my point wouldn’t get across to some.

It's not even that bad. Things are so much better now.

For whom? Better than what? Being spat at? Being a second class citizen?

Who gets to choose?"

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here & now

In My Sk i n “With the advancement and growing popularity of social media, like many people, I found myself exposed to more and more accounts of hate and violence.

As we watched the outbreak of Covid19 spread to western countries, we also witnessed a rise in Anti-Asian rhetoric which trickled down from those in positions of power, to the everyday person’s news intake.

Unfortunately, this pandemic has uncovered the ugly racism that exists in our country, no matter how diverse or accepting, we as a country like to believe we are. On certain days, I contemplated the irony, the fact that our skin, the largest organ in our bodies, which serves to weatherproof, protect, insulate us, became the target for disapproving glances, racial slurs, and even physical attacks. The mixture of self-consciousness, vulnerability, fear, anger, and pain became familiar emotions that lingered in the back of my mind.

Without associating these human emotions to a face, I hope the painting can speak to a more universal crowd, who can perhaps find comfort in knowing that they are not alone in this fight.�

Seeing the rise in hate crimes towards people of the Asian community was both heartbreaking and eye-opening.

Growing up in Toronto, I was extremely privileged to live in a culturally diverse community. I was never made uncomfortable because of the colour of my skin, and never had to conceal my heritage. I was proud to say I was Canadian-Chinese, placing the Canadian before Chinese. I was lucky to grow up in a country that prided itself in diversity and acceptance.

The quiet reflections and discourses with friends and family, inspired this faceless self-portrait showing a body with multiple hands trying its best to comfort itself. The different hands express a spectrum of emotions, from anger, shame, to protectiveness.

- Alyssa Tang 25

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36” x 48” Oil Painting on Canvas

26

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S o me T houg ht s o n Acc e ssi b i l i t y. . . “I grew up with an older brother who has cerebral palsy. From a young age, I saw another take on the world, second handedly experiencing the disregard from abled people to those who do not confine themselves to the 'norm'. You might think that there are benefits, such as being able to ride around in a wheelchair and getting someone to push you, skipping lines at tourist attractions or taking the elevator, but let me tell you the reality of 'accessibility' is not always accessible. It hurts when you are unable to participate in so many activities because you were not thought of. It is not fun to listen to the muffled voices and awkward conversations when someone asks 'what is wrong with you?' or 'what happened to you?'

Growing up, I was so naive because my brother had masked all of these things so well.

Last summer, my perspective of this world changed again, but this time I was in the driver’s seat. I suffered a Lisfranc injury among countless other fractures and breaks in my foot. I was injured as a student intern at an architecture practice based in Toronto. I worked out of the sight of the others, in the clustered scaffolding shelves with material swatches and other archives. Completely disregarded as fresh meat, this inexperienced Chinese boy coming to work at an award-winning practice was paid no attention. I was just another passer-by, easily forgettable and easy to take advantage of. Our communication ever since my injury has been dead.

My recovery was longer than the average. Although it could not compare to living permanently with a mobility disability, I was able to see all the little things I took for granted. From daily activities such as waking up and walking to the bathroom, walking down a flight of stairs, showering, cooking, and even sleeping, you struggle so much trying to accomplish these seemingly simple tasks.

You exert so much energy into everything you do and are constantly tired. Not to mention the change in perspective [of ] those around me, thinking that I have it too easy because I am getting help from others and not seeing how helpless I was feeling at the time. Right as the Fall academic term was to begin, I was told to seriously con27

in experience

sider deferring and taking the year off. I was told I would not be able to keep up with the rigour of architecture school. The only thing I found myself unable to keep up with was the inaccessibility of the school. I was faced with the fear of not being able to walk through any doors without them closing in behind or on me as I made my way through them on crutches. I was faced with the fear of keeping others behind and did not go on field trips because [they] could not really accommodate me. I was faced with the fear of the sound the elevator made and the immediate shift in the gaze of an upper year’s entire class and their professor. I was scared of the scoffs, the pitiful eyes, and the unwillingness to help or accommodate because I was considered 'lesser' than them.

But what I feared the most was the help of those closest to me. I felt as though I was a burden to them and slowing them down. Near the end of the term, there was an effort to implement automatic door buttons to many main doors to the building. This is great, but the placement matters. Out of reach accessibility is not accessibility. Clicking a button and having to take 5 seconds walking or going to the far door that opened, only to have it close on you is not a solution.

In conversations with some students, I was told that when they had an applicant with a physical disability, they were, from the start, not considered, due to the physical demands of the program and the overall inaccessibility of the school. We were taught in first year that designing for accessibility is a pain in the ass. It is something that we do not need to consider because we were not tasked to do so. Our efforts to accommodate people with physical disabilities were usually questioned and we were convinced to erase it from the design.

Why are we running away from the uncomfortable and why can’t we see this as an opportunity for design? Let us change our canon of projects that use ramps as a cool design strategy. Let us look at those who live it and understand the nuance behind a ramp rather than those who blindly obey statistical facts or requirements.�

- Glenn Lu 28

here & now

What I D i d n’t L e arn i n A rc h i te c t u re S c h o ol “My father’s father drank himself to death when my father was eight years old. He’s been working to support his family ever since. This year he’ll turn 60 with no immediate plans to retire.

Throughout the course of his life, my father took up many jobs and trades.

One of his most successful jobs was being a carpenter. He was able to take this skill from Trinidad to Canada and make a living to support his children for as long as his body would allow.

my apartment. When the novel coronavirus hit New York, this counter moved to the bedroom to become a desk for my partner to work from home. My partner was probably as thrilled and annoyed as anyone else growing up in my childhood home— never really knowing what could be waiting for them when they walk through the door… The point I’m trying to make is that I grew up in a built environment that was as dynamic and flexible as me.

Growing up, there were always sheets of plywood and stacks of nominal lumber scattered around and inside the house.

It felt like our home was always changing because my father saw how poorly it was designed and built and couldn’t help but do something about it. He would often ask his children to help him out, but he didn’t like when we asked questions. Helping my father renovate the house felt like a blind exercise of trust: 'Hold this,' 'mark here,' 'plug this in,' 'find this drillbit,' and suddenly, we’d have a newer, larger kitchen, or the stairs would be somewhere else in the house, or there would be an extra sink in the bathroom, or a custom floor-to-ceiling closet with the old doors that used to be in the downstairs foyer.

I went to architecture school because I was unsure what I’d learn in art school and I was afraid of what my career prospects might be with a BFA. As the only son and first Canadian-born child of my family, I felt pressured to pursue a career that was prestigious and less self-centered.

My father would pick up scrap wood wherever he found it and turned it into something useful and beautiful. When there wasn’t any material around, he would splice and remix parts of our house to better accommodate the demands of our daily lives. This type of behaviour encouraged me to see potential in every solid object around me and its ability to enhance my lived environment. I recently took apart a sofa and turned it into a countertop because there was inadequate counter space in 29

Like most naive high school students, I wanted an education that would allow me to be creative and technical, but the education I received was beyond anything I could have anticipated. I was one of the handful of brown students in a university with even fewer Black students. All of my professors were white.

Most of them were heterosexual men.

Despite this, I felt encouraged to be political in my doing of 'architecture'. But when I presented my architectural concepts for critique, I was almost always instructed to start over as if my budding ideas couldn’t be developed or were flatout wrong. The theories I presented in Design Studio were experimental and intimate, but in rationalizing them into buildings, my design proposals were deemed farfetched and/or underdeveloped. I thought I was a bad designer because my buildings had an emotional agenda instead of an aesthetic one. The spaces I designed were full of deliberate

Whiteness in architecture meant monumentality and efficiency. Buildings had to 'announce their presence' and have clear, sequential thresholds. Architecture of whiteness provided 'privileged views' that were only accessible to the people *inside* the building. The design of these buildings would be exhaustively iterated in order to make their prescribed functions as materially-efficient and marketable as possible.

I never understood the value of such resolved designs because the people I knew were always capable of modifying their environment to suit their ever-changing needs. Architecture of Whiteness designs for the dumbest, cheapest, and least intuitive inhabitant imaginable— someone who has no agency or relationship to their environment, so all their foreseeable problems must be resolved pre-emptively. A room’s function would be programmed and the success of that room would be evaluated by that room’s perceived ability to fulfill that program.

I was always resistant to this design approach because I believed that an architect could never anticipate nor control how an occupant will use a space. Who was I to assume that a bathroom could not be used as a meeting space? Or that a meeting room might one day have to accommodate a karaoke party? Such ambivalent considerations made de-

signing a building an incredibly slow and difficult task for me. I would spend days trying to translate my design intentions into traditional architectural drawings (plan, section, elevation). The abstracted and prescriptive nature of these drawings stripped all personality and occupational ambiguity from the spaces I wanted to create. I would try to defend the walls and openings of my buildings, but, in actuality, they weren’t as important as the mode of dwelling I was trying to present…

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contradictions but instead of trying to understand the value of the architectural moments I proposed, my instructors penalized me for a lack of clarity or feasibility. Implicitly, I learned which politics were acceptable in architecture; I learned that buildings that embodied whiteness were to be celebrated above all else.

Towards the end of my degree, I found that it was best to produce fewer orthogonal drawings and to design through perspectival renderings. Throughout my degree, I felt deeply engaged with architecture but disenfranchised from buildings. This paradox was never confronted in my education and it left me angry and unfulfilled. It left me to define architecture for myself in a way that I could practice and experience and defend…

Architecture is about human bodies.

It controls where and how they move and the total sensory experience of that movement. Architecture affects the quality of sound, of light, of air…

It creates a bodily sensation that can be experienced without instruction or consent. It imposes itself on the body while removing it from Nature. If unconsidered, architecture can threaten Spirit. If deliberate, architecture has the capacity to coalesce the material and immaterial realms of reality— architecture might reveal qualities of a body not previously acknowledged.

As a sexual and racial minority, I have an involuntarily peculiar understanding of what it means to have a body.

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here & now

“My body remains in negotiating my identity until it

Being brown and queer (and now an immigrant, living in New York), I am in constant surveillance of my environment. This is a compulsive behaviour developed in my childhood to ensure my safety and wellbeing. I memorize the room: where I came in, where I’ll come out. If anything goes wrong, I must have my own escape route! (I must also be aware of others’ anticipated escape routes so I don’t get caught up in their unmediated panic!) I observe the people around me: do they understand me? If not, might they want to harm me? I therein analyze my body: how I speak, my body language, my proximity to others, etc.

My body remains in constant flux as I react to the room, negotiating my identity until it splits.

In a room of white people, I am silent and observant. I refuse to be an ethnic spectacle. When someone asks me a question, I am succinct and poised. I use words like 'succinct' and 'poised'. I do not touch anyone.

In a room of coloured people, I am social and relaxed. More prone to speak before thinking and eager to share a sound, a smell, a taste, and a touch. When misog31

yny enters this room, I disappear (homophobia is misogyny).

In a room of straight people, I am prone to dissociation. My voice slows and deepens and I begin to occupy more space than I need. I fear loud men and avoid looking at women. I do not express myself or describe things in detail.

In a room of queer people, I am less in my head and more in my body. This is because I do not have to speak my secrets for them to be known. This coalescence remains until I become aware of my skin.

The architecture of a room controls my body just as much as the bodies in it. If I deny these bodies such control, my safety and belonging can be jeopardized. This negotiation between safety and authenticity is the curse of all queer people in a world dominated by whiteness, masculinity, capitalism, etc. So when I am asked to engage with the imposing practice of architecture, I consider all these conditions.

My vision of architecture provides spaces for someone to hide or for 'gross

as I react to the room, splits.” indecency' to unfold underfilled. It should have redundant circulation and egress in case a perpetrator is in the building— remember the Pulse nightclub shooting? Architecture should provide people with options for sitting, leaning, storage, etc. The standard dimensions in Neufert’s guide do not consider the nuance that others might have come to develop. Denying this nuance is as violent as it is disappointing. To me, architecture school offered the opportunity to create spaces where someone like me could have their inner motivations amplified and accelerated. Architecture school should have given me the tools to assert nuance and inconsistency in buildings in favour of giving occupants a tactile reminder of the importance of diversity, but instead, it tried to snuff it out.

In a recent episode of The Grapevine on YouTube, an out Black-trans woman spoke about the erasure of sexual and racial minorities in popular culture.

She attributed the disproportionate violence against Black and trans women to the lack of exposure and education cisgender and heteronormative people encounter in regards to the lived expe-

riences of racial and sexual minorities.

She said, 'Do you see me when I’m not in the room?' (Rose, @DearMsBoogie).

Against the deficit of representation of queer bodies and diasporatic identities, my praxis of architecture demands that the very fabric of such a room upholds this representation.

To me, architecture is an opportunity to give queerness and otherness a venue to exist, experiment, and collaborate.

If not for the enlightenment of a binary-obsessed, heteronormative society, then for the uplifting and validation of the voices, bodies, and spirits of those who dare to feel more than they are given. If architecture can embody these qualities, then perhaps all the queers and foreigners can focus on living and improving the community they inhabit, instead of marching in public space —fighting for the freedom to occupy and move through space without the looming fear of a silent and invisible death.”

- ien boo 32

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Trigger Warni ng “My inspiration for this composition and its title comes during a long period— lasting to this day and most likely for the remainder of my life—where the exposure of racialized actions in media and my personal experiences seems to be a constant barrage, to which I must constantly be reacting. The imagery of arms and hands grappling with one another serves as a reminder that the colour of our skin, the marks of red, blue, black, & steel we lay upon them, and the actions we undertake are equal to our visages or personalities as constituents of our identity.

“...be it the artist or other, triggering a reflex to , , or simply .”

Racialized transgressions do not solely occur between a majority and a minority; rather, they operate intersectionally between races, colours, genders, and cultures. The act of creating a composition such as this reveals how I as the artist can find myself being a bystander or observer of racialized actions, yet the use of my own arms to model the characters represents how I too will participate in microaggressions and other racialized actions. More importantly, the imagery of violence activates empathy or sympathy within the viewer, be it the artist or other, triggering a reflex to help, turn away, or simply observe.”

- Kevin Kunnappilly 33

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18 x 24�, Acrylic on Canvas

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5 Books That Saved My Life: 1.

The Wretched of the Earth, news of her miraculous recovery, MalaFrantz Fanon la’s story was hardly unique to any of the 2. Orientalism, brown children who watched foreign Edward Said news channels over dinner, who regular3. Women, Race and Class, ly heard stories of children being killed, Angela Y. Davis abused, stolen, or physically disabled for 4. The Doctor and The Saint, anything from trying to pray to writing Arundhati Roy an exam.

5. The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Malcolm X and Alex Haley I can tell you the first time I heard the name of my home country in class. I was eleven, it was sixth grade and we were “I was thirteen years old when Malala talking about al-Qaeda in social studies. was shot in the head. I remember sitting My teacher pointed to all the countries in my eighth grade homeroom class, lis- where the terrorist organization opertening to my teacher read out the BBC ated. It was the first time most of my news report of Malala’s standoff with non-Pakistani classmates had ever seen the Taliban militants who wanted to Pakistan on a map—the first time some stop her, and other girls, from going of them had heard of the country. I can to school. As my teacher read on, the also tell you the first time I ever heard the school bell rang and my class of Black, name of my country mentioned in class brown and Asian kids unanimously got not in relation to 'terrorism' or 'Islamic up and left, cutting my teacher off with extremism', I was twenty, it was my their unabashed apathy. Not one (of second year of university. I couldn’t help close to 50 kids) cared to stay and hear but wonder, was that everybody sitting in what happened to the girl who got shot the class’ first time too? This disparity in in the head for going to school. It left our our education is the reason so many of teacher furiously speechless. This act us grew up being called 'terrorist' by our of unspoken, unconscious, unanimous peers. More importantly, it’s the reason apathy, highlighted for me the duality of why so many of us accepted being called education and the role of the classroom 'terrorist'. While the example is specific, to an immigrant, a person of colour, or the experience is one that is universally more correctly, a colonized individual. felt.

At home, my Pakistani family, continuously watched news reports of Malala’s standoff in Northern-Pakistan and eagerly tracked her recovery. At home, Malala was a hero, a symbol of an unrelenting thirst for knowledge that every colonized person carries. At school, Malala was a victim. A reminder to all the Pakistani/Muslim/immigrant children, that our presence in the classroom was owed to the fact that our own people were too savage to teach us. Before the

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Let’s ask ourselves: how do colonized children sitting in a classroom see themselves in relation to a colonized child fighting for the right to sit in a classroom? If they react with apathy in the classroom and compassion out of it, what does this imply about the classroom? Our state sponsored education would like to maintain the illusion of neutral objectivity, but the truth is, the classroom is where colonization is taught as a process of nature, as fact,

Decolonization as a Process of Learning truths, and in turn, the external structures that hold them in place. Tools such as writing, reading, and the navigation of language are key to the universal struggle for decolonization. The significance of these tools are recognized across the colonized world. Using the very language that the colonizer taught us as an imposition of his domination, the colonized individual unravels the colonial ideology and wakes the disenfranchised masses.

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as norm, to the colonizer, yet more significantly to the colonized. When faced with the story of Malala, and the countless nameless children who shared her fate, the colonized children of my classroom exercised apathy as a form of survival. When seeing our nation’s maps under the heading 'al Qaeda' we practiced the self-preservation our colonial education taught us. We distanced ourselves from the image of the 'colonized' presented to us, learning both explicitly, and implicitly, that our humanity is linked to how closely we imitate the colonizer. We didn’t stay out of sympathetic shock of Malala’s struggle, we left out of recognition that her struggle would never be meaningfully recognized in the space we were occupying. To every colonized child in that room the hypocrisy of the colonial ideology was not stated but, whether unconscious or not, was unanimously recognized.

Colonized people have always lived with this duality. Colonization is not merely a procedure, a time period or an action.

Colonization is an ideology. This recognition is vital. While 'time period' implies a fixed beginning and end and 'action' implies balance in the form of 'reaction', understanding colonization operates as an ideology comes with the understanding that ideas cannot be killed and do not disappear. They constantly manifest themselves through various figures, structures and systems around us. Once an idea is taught, it cannot be forgotten. To 'unlearn' is to actively engage in the learning of a different way of thinking. This is why the classroom is vital. It is where the external colonial processes crystallize into internal truths. It is also where the colonized individual gathers their tools to begin challenging those accepted

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here & now

5 Books That Saved My Life:

â?ś The Wretched of the Earth, Frantz Fanon

By the end of high school, I had read upwards of 50 books throughout my entire public school education. One of them was written by a Black person.

The second book I ever read written by a Black person was 'Wretched of the Earth'. I was 19 and it profoundly changed my life. If you flip through my copy, which is heavily used, almost every page is either dog-eared or highlighted.

Reading the words in this book felt like seeing my reflection in the mirror for the first time.

Fanon, from Martinique, studied in France and practiced psychiatry. During the Algerian War, he joined forces with the FLN and dedicated his life to the liberation of Algeria from French colonialism. While treating psychiatric patients who struggled with the colonial trauma of liberation, Fanon penned 'Wretched of the Earth' as a manifesto of the decolonization struggle. In it, Fanon states the process of colonization strips the colonizer of his humanity, it makes him violent, uncivilized, and hateful. He lays bare the fundamental role of colonialism in seeding deep rooted trauma in every facet of the world, and elevates the case of the native, who must do everything in their power to reclaim their humanity, for not just their own survival, but for the survival of universal morality, justice, freedom, civilization and the soul of the world itself. These words, as illustrated by the decolonization movement of the 20th century, are profound.

Reading 'Wretched of the Earth' was a reclamation of humanity. Every native, colonized person, has been embedded with the lie that they are less human than the settler, the colonizer. This lie has been fed to us as the truth, through colonial education that teaches us names of

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Decolonization as a Process of Learning

I remember sitting in a class in my first year at the University of Waterloo and being told that Britain’s theft of the world’s artifacts is wholly justified because those who were robbed cannot be trusted with their own histories. We were told that the Elgin Marbles (not named after the location where they were taken from or the people who were robbed, but after the man who robbed them) should remain at the British Museum, and not be returned to Greece because the British are more trustworthy when it comes to the 'preservation of history'. The political clout of the British Empire, which is forged from the murder and enslavement of millions, the plundering of vast continents, the intellectual slaughter of countless civilizations, grants the very criminals who have historically shown no care, restraint, compassion, or civility towards the peoples of the world, the right to claim ownership and patronage over the humanity of the very people they rendered inhumane. This is what was taught to us. Heads nodded in agreement. My community fought the British for the right to rule their own land, speak their own languages, pray to their own gods, and here I was, back in the Empire.

of colonization, it is in fact the settler who loses his humanity, not the native.

Aime Cesaire, Fanon’s contemporary, explains this in 'Discourse on Colonialism', when he says, '…each time a head is cut off or an eye is put out in Vietnam and in France they accept the fact, each time a little girl is raped and in France they accept the fact, each time a Madagascaran is tortured and in France they accept the fact, civilization acquires another dead weight, a universal regression takes place…a poison has been distilled into the veins of Europe and, slowly but surely, the continent proceeds towards savagery.' In claiming humanism, enlightenment and modernism, the colonizer tries, and fails, to justify, subside and erase the horrors which were committed for him to progress in the way he did. What is progress when it is a product of dead bodies, lost civilizations and stolen land? We, as colonized peoples, have a right to claim our humanity in every way possible, and we must recognize when that humanity is being taken away from us by the inhumane themselves.

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slave owners and genocidal invaders and demands we call them heroes, patrons, founding fathers, moral compasses. It makes us look our oppressors in the eye and celebrate them for their oppression.

It reduces our own people to pests, dead bodies and savage minds in the way of the Enlightened Western narrative.

I read 'Wretched of the Earth' a year later, and the lies which were taught to me as truth, fell apart when Fanon explained that in committing the crime 38

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5 Books That Saved My Life:

❷ Orientalism, Edward Said

Edward Said’s 'Orientalism' is a roadmap to understanding how colonialism is taught through academia. It dives into the (not so) old world field of study, Orientalism, the study of the East. More accurately, Orientalism is the way non-European cultures, peoples and places are distorted, mystified and exaggerated in literature, art history and cultural studies. The distortion of these cultures objectifies, disrespects and belittles its people, to further the narrative that Europe is a naturally superior, chosen leader of the world, in turn, justifying colonialism. 'Orientalism' brings light to the malicious intent behind Europe’s exotic fantasies of the global South and East, and how fields of study that masquerade as neutral, curious examinations of life, are often consciously intended tools of oppression that seek to distort the truth, not reveal it.

(Maybe not so) ironically, I was introduced to this text in a lecture. One of the few lectures I’ve attended that was taught by a person of colour, the perspective offered was refreshingly unprecedented.

Every time I’ve been witness to a colonized individual take on a role of teaching, the experience has left me transformed. Not only is the perspective that individual brings to the conversation important and grossly underrepresented, but the methods in which they go about presenting their knowledge breaks from the status quo as well. The latter is vital to meaningful change in the field of academia. If we keep using the same benchmarks of progress and biased data that was used to construct the power structure that puts Europe on top, we will fail to shift perspectives. We cannot define ourselves on the

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Decolonization as a Process of Learning

Throughout his writings, Edward Said lays out an interesting process of thought on how we can challenge the histories we have been taught as fact.

It begins by understanding that the humanities and social studies are interested in the overlap between memory and geography, which manifests in the study of human space. Memory is something that can be exploited, and shaped in accordance with an assumption of what 'we' or who 'they' are. Said points out that the representational issue does not only lie in what is remembered, but how and in what form. This method of analyzing the supposed facts of our collective history encourages the individual to recognize who owns the truth and how they manifest that ownership. In 'The Inconvenient Indian', Thomas King talks about how American history books include fabricated massacres led by Indians that supposedly killed hundreds of American pioneers, and were used as justification for the further slaughtering of thousands of Native Americans.

When they colonized India, the British created the Durbar tradition, a royal court where all the nobility of India gathered, and the British emperor/ empress was presented. In doing so, the British Empire aligned itself with the ruling families of India, masquerading as local rulers rather than a foreign

threat. This planted tradition furthered the British imperialist gaze on India, and encouraged dutiful loyalty to the Crown.

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terms used to justify oppression without keeping people below each other. Often times, to save their own skin, institutions of higher education will hire or admit more people of colour, without ever addressing the systemic oppression that is propagated in their curriculum or administration. All that does is force more students, staff and faculty members to grapple with the trauma of those structures of oppression.

The implications of these distorted memories are still felt by these colonized communities today. Violence towards the Indigenous peoples of North America is state inflicted, and normalized throughout our academic canon. Historical figures that invaded Indigenous land and led mass murder are celebrated as war heroes and patriots. On the other side of the globe, Palestinians are being forcefully removed and attacked on their land as they fight a Zionist narrative that seeks to sell the myth of a monolithic ancient Israel. Said urges us to recognize the sensitivity of memory and the long standing implications of a motivated history by re-charting the past from a post-colonial point of view in order to make way for a new 'post-imperial space'. That means understanding Indigenous history through the channels of knowledge championed by those communities. It means understanding that we have been taught to give certain artifacts more legitimacy over others, not because of their efficiency in recording truth, but their usefulness in distorting it.

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5 Books That Saved My Life:

â?¸ Women, Race and Class, Angela Y. Davis

The restrictions of a binary world are not equally damaging to every member of society. Those who exist at crossroads and intersections of communities, identities and movements, find themselves less seen, heard or protected.

We see the dangers these communities face with the soberingly high accounts of violence against Black Trans folk, people of colour with mental illnesses and women of colour - more specifically Black and Brown women. 'Women, Race and Class', by Angela Davis, outlines the invisible force of working class, women of colour that not only shaped the liberation of Black people, and women, but built the foundation of America. She pushes her readers to confront the discomfort that is felt when Black women take up space, speak up and exercise autonomy. Why do we as a society want to keep Black women invisible? How do we as a society resist intersectional thought in relation to civil struggles and liberation?

The helplessness that women of colour feel at the blatant refusal of their recognition is precedented by a long history of exploitation of colonized women’s bodies, minds and property. We have been fed the notion that the more we assimilate, the whiter we become, and the more agency we have. We wax. We bleach. We burn. We straighten. We 'whiten'. We do everything in our power to grasp at the agency that is constantly being denied to us. For many women, conformity is a means of survival.

But for those who cannot conform, or choose not to, a struggle of hundreds of years has been ignored by the collective conscious. Davis outlines the shortcomings of mainstream, elitist feminism, which championed the autonomy of women yet failed to recognize

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Decolonization as a Process of Learning by white supremacy, as it does not aim to end the oppressive power structure, rather shift it to allow more members of the white race to engage in the exploitation of colonized peoples. Davis explains how white feminism’s silencing of colonized women is counter-intuitive to the feminist movement at large.

No one understands the importance of reproductive rights as deeply as the colonized women who have been coerced into sterilization by the state. No one understands the importance of equal pay and job opportunities as deeply as the colonized women who are exploited as labour and migrant workers. No one understands the importance of recognizing sexually violent crimes against women as deeply as Black, Brown and Indigenous women who have been sexually exploited by state sponsored predators in the police, army, doctor’s office, immigration control, prisons, schools, offices and government. When these women are silenced or spoken for by wealthy white women, the full extent of the objectification of women is not realized. Colonized women’s notion of feminist liberation champions a more inclusive, self-actualized idea of a free woman.

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and elevate the working Black women who constantly challenged the inferior status of womankind through their relentless assertion of equality in the struggle for Black liberation. If Black women didn’t demand to be heard, white women would have never been heard.

Using historical examples of the discourse of women’s rights, Davis critiques how the mainstream feminist movement also failed to recognize that Black and Brown women are not only preyed upon in a misogynistic model of oppression, but in a colonial and racial one too. They are subjected to racial crimes that challenge their bodily autonomy as women, and strip them of the protections and civilities granted to their white counterparts. For this reason, Black and Brown women understand the implications of being women, the limitations and sensitivities as well as the resilience and strength of their gender and bodies, in a deeper way. Similarly, they understand more fundamentally the extent of savagery the colonizer is capable of when asserting his dominance. Colonized women grow up with this understanding as a means of survival in a society that constantly seeks to exploit them. This is why Black and Brown women have been instrumental in the fight for both Black liberation and women’s rights. To reject their experiences and be complicit to their exploitation is an act of white male supremacy that refuses to recognize the depth, complexity and horror of colonial oppression.

However, Davis points out that mainstream feminism is largely occupied by upper-middle class white women, who seek not the emancipation of all women, rather the elevation of white women to equal status of their male counterparts.

This stream of feminism is underlined

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5 Books That Saved My Life:

❹ The Doctor and The Saint, Arundhati Roy This one is for all the members of the South Asian diaspora. With strong prose and a compelling collection of modern and historical events, Arundhati Roy forces every South Asian to confront the inhumane practices of oppression that infest the community at large, particularly the ruling majority of Hindus in India. The concept of caste and untouchability is an old world creation of Hinduism’s endogamous class hierarchy. Coupled with contemporary capitalism, India has become a hyper-capitalist authoritarian machine of exploitation. The Doctor and The Saint analyzes the long stand-off between the Dalit advocate, B.R. Ambedkar, and the deified Indian independence activist, M.K. Gandhi, to the backdrop of the independence movement.

This book does well to explain the complex workings of Hinduism as a series of religious systems, and the implications these systems have on the

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rapidly industrializing state of India. In an effort to assert control and naturalize an exploitative class order, the government and ruling class of India have adopted and shaped the caste system to justify the policing, abuse and brutality of millions of Dalits (Untouchables) across the country. Dalits, who have vehemently fought for the abolishment of the caste system, were instrumental to India’s independence from the British Empire, however, throughout the effort to escape colonial rule, the caste system was used to silence, vilify and exploit Dalits, of all religions, and keep in place the power structure that kept the ruling class on top. Roy explores how the brutality committed against Dalits and accepted by the vast majority of South Asians is central to the systemic oppression that is at the heart of a growing authoritarian state.

In recent years, with India’s religious minorities being violently and publicly persecuted by the state, violence towards Dalits has always been present at the heart of the struggle. Roy gives examples and cases of brutal lynchings, murders, rapes, dismemberments and burnings of Dalits, that happen in India today. Dalits who speak out against this ritualistic violence, like the Sikh Dalit man from Punjab who demanded justice against his daughter’s rapist, are killed or have their limbs cut off. Dalits are denied access to roads, houses, water wells, schools, etc. While India continues to grow as a global economy, the upper classes seek to modernize India in a performative way. The global gaze of exoticism and mysticism on India has a harmful neoliberal connotation to it that is exploited by India’s ruling class.

Methods such as pink-washing India by publicizing Western-inspired conversations on queerness and gender, creates

Decolonization as a Process of Learning

In fact, Roy makes the case that supremacy was at the heart of the independence movement, which allowed for authoritarian rule and thought to infest the South Asian diaspora. Her case for this is manifested in the figure of the deified Gandhi, who was literally called Mahatma (Saint). Gandhi, a universal icon, was at the heart of the Indian independence movement, however, few know how he got there and even fewer acknowledge the skeletons in his closet that would lead to a malignant brutality to take hold in the coming India.

While fighting for Indian immigrant rights in South Africa, Gandhi’s entire platform for activism was built on the belief that Indians are more civilized, well bred and well mannered, and should be associated more closely with White people than with Black people.

However, not all Indians were included in his fight for equality. Gandhi believed migrant Indian workers and Dalits should remain second-class citizens, for the sake of 'natural order'. To exploit people’s religious sentiments and tug at the European fantasies of the East, Gandhi incorporated aspects of Hindu teachings into his activism. He led sit

ins and hunger strikes, yet refused to share jail cells with Black or Dalit men.

He preached a pious lifestyle, yet was publicly funded by some of the richest industrialists in India and South Africa.

When the time came for Dalits to get their rights incorporated into the newly written Indian constitution, an aged Gandhi led a hunger strike till Ambedkar yielded, exploiting a sacred ritual and people’s sentiments to keep Dalits in a second-class citizen status.

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the illusion of a growingly tolerant and progressive state. Roy argues that for the Western world, as long as India contributes to the global market and looks the part of a Western ally, it is deemed 'progressive'. Defining progress against the benchmarks of Western society has allowed for the continued oppression of Dalits without a meaningful call to justice. This oppression has been systemically enforced throughout colonial rule and independence. How can we, as colonized peoples, cry for justice when we use the same tools of oppression that our colonizer subjugated us with?

This is the man who is called India’s saint? Who called him that? Roy argues that influential white industrialists and intellectuals were responsible for this myth of the saint. He was called 'an avatar of Christ', and the saintly subject of books, one written by French dramatist, Romain Rolland. The supremacy underlying Gandhi’s activism, which respected the authority of colonial rule, which glorified Western industrialism, which was racist, anti-Semitic and flirted with European Fascism, which sought to turn Indians into a race of collaborators, was unsurprisingly beloved in the Western world, and planted Gandhi at the heart of India’s independence. In order to truly free ourselves of colonialism, we must confront the supremacist that Gandhi was and we allowed him to be, and re-examine our post-colonial society in order to annihilate the caste system and work towards justice for all Dalits and Indians at large.

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5 Books That Saved My Life:

❺ The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Malcolm X and Alex Haley

I’m not sure of how to comment on someone’s life. How to critique and dissect their actions as a part of a larger narrative because a person has so much more going on inside them than the outside world knows. The first thing I can say about this autobiography is that the honesty of Malcolm X’s journey is what makes his transformation so profound. The genuine nature in which he navigates his life and confronts the devils on his back is a testament to his humanity. As a Muslim, the Islam that Malcolm talks about is the one that I want to learn and represent in the world. The first half of the book is an honest and painful recount of Malcolm X’s experience growing up in America.

His family, which is filled with supportive figures and loving relationships, is ripped apart by the American social service system. He and his siblings face the hardships of being Black early on, which forces them to mature early and harbour responsibility. Driven by a need to connect with other Black people, Malcolm finds himself integrating into almost every Black neighbourhood on the East coast. The exploration of the Black music scene and dance culture that rocked the 60s is undercut with the social struggle that Black people face on a daily basis.

From struggling to find jobs outside the service industry to being told by teachers that a carpenter is all one can aspire to, the Black people of Malcolm’s New York City and Boston fight to dream in an America that maliciously exploits them. At every interaction with state authorities and government officials, Malcolm and his friends are persecuted and branded suspicious. The first half of the book, and Malcolm’s life is a testament of what happens when a

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Decolonization as a Process of Learning

There are a number of experiences that Malcolm X mentions through the book that took my breath away. The first was his thirst for knowledge and education.

While in prison, Malcolm begins reading about the rich history of Black people before the cultural massacre committed by white colonizers. In discovering a Black identity beyond colonial exploitation, Malcolm’s commitment to the decolonization of Black people in America is manifested in his desire to educate himself in order to better articulate his ideas. He copies out an entire dictionary and practices writing for hours a day out of the hopes that he may share his new found knowledge with others.

The purity behind Malcolm’s intentions to seek education attests to the meaningful impact that education has in the process of decolonization. Malcolm, while in jail, speaks of a liberation that

he has never felt before in learning that the inferiority of Black people is a white colonial myth. He falls in love with his Blackness.

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system fails a community. How well-intentioned, ambitious people are forced into criminal status because the system is designed to benefit from their dehumanization. When Malcolm ends up in prison halfway through the book, his descent narrative culminates with his understanding of the colonial crime committed by the white colonizer. This revelation is profound to Malcolm’s life and it takes place through his discovery of the Nation of Islam. Through the book, Malcolm goes on a journey from internalized racism, to the confrontation of racism, to hatred and anger directed towards white people, to the ultimate understanding that racism is a malignant disease that can only be unlearned through acts of compassionate understanding and moves towards justice. Malcolm attributes this learning process to his relationship with Allah [and] the faith of Islam.

The second moment of awe was the retelling of his days in Mecca. While stranded at the airport Malcolm becomes well acquainted with the diverse group of Muslims there. Everyone present is united by their pilgrimage journey. An energy of connection and faith runs throughout his interactions, as people offer up what little they have to connect with Malcolm. At the mention of Mohammad Ali’s name, every head in the room turns up. Children from around the globe’s eyes glow in pride. What does it mean when the hearts of a diaspora of almost 2 billion Muslims expand with pride at hearing a brother claim his name? What kind of adversity strikes a community that such a simple act can move waves through?"

- Hiba Zubairi 46

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Thank you for reading!

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Typeset: GT Alpina Printing: Vide Press Sponsors: University of Waterloo, Graduate Student Association Special Thanks: To the galt. publication team for providing the avenue, encouragement and support for here & now to come to fruition.

Cover Art: Chi Chi Ogbu Contributors: Annika Babra ien boo Simone Delaney Kevin Kunnapilly Brandon Lim Glenn Lu Mayuri Paranthahan Aashka Shah Johnathan Subendran Alyssa Tang Hiba Zubairi & The Anonymous Voices here & now Team: Annika Babra Osman Bari Jamie Cheung Simone Delaney Chi Chi Ogbu Zaven Titizian 47

here & now Description: The here & now project focuses on discussing social equity in architecture and illuminating dialogue on Black, Indigenous and people of colour’s (BIPOC) experiences in academia, the profession and in a shared cultural context. Through written essays, personal experiences and a combination of visual pieces, the content explores themes of othering, erasure, systemic racism and evident barriers in the architectural field. Compiled from the voices of students and alumni of the University of Waterloo, School of Architecture, credited and anonymous sources articulate observations and their realities as students, designers and individuals. The nature of the work speaks to the hope to establish an equitable forum to recognize and learn from these experiences while encouraging further discourse.

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From the Perspective of a Recent Alumna... 01-02 White Voices for White Spaces 06 Racism is Institutionalised and We are the Institution 0710 Words with an Incoming Student 11-12 ... 13-16 Can You French Kiss During Ramadan?

17-18 At Home 21-22 Voidance 23-24 In My Skin 25-26 Some Thoughts on Accessibility 27-28 What I Didn’t Learn in Architecture School 29-32 Trigger Warning 3334 5 Books That Saved My Life: Decolonization as a Process of Learning 35-46