05 April 2021 Volume 41, Issue 05 thelinknewspaper.ca
The Resistance Issue
Photo by Christina @ wocintechchat.om on Unsplash
GOOD LUCK WITH YOUR EXAMS AND END-OF-TERM ASSIGNMENTS. It’s been quite the year and I hope you feel proud of what you’ve accomplished under unprecedented circumstances. Wishing you all the best in the last sprint ahead. And after the term ends – enjoy the break.
Graham Carr President and Vice-Chancellor
T21-70969
CO N CO R D I A . C A
THE LINK
Table of Contents 5 — Editorial 6 — What Radicalized You? 8 — My Existence as a Black Woman Is Radical 10 — How To Organize a Protest 12 — A Protest Guide for Dummies 14 — Q & A: Fighting Back Against Your Landlord 18 — Do the Police Exist to Protect Us? 20 — Photo Series: A Year of Protest 24 — Concordia Students vs. Professors 26 — The Cost of Rebellion 28 — Fiction: On Mountains and Beasts 30 — Poem: Body Aqua 31 — Female Punk Fights the Patriarchy 33 — Kanien’kehá:ka Resistance 34 — Artist Profile: ‘The History of My Blood’ 36 — Resistance Is Draining Me
“You can’t edit a 1980. Where is your journalistic integrity,” since 1980 A P RIL 2021
3
Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Retance Resistance Resistance sistance Resistance Resiste Resistance Resistance Re-
e
Resistance . . .
Class unity. Now more than ever. Society is rooted in hierarchy. Democracies, monarchies, dictatorships—you name them—all rely on dividing the population. There has always been a ruling class, and they have been successful in holding onto that power by one way and one way alone: class unity. Class unity has been kept from us for centuries. It feeds into every topic in this magazine, from greedy landlords taking advantage of their tenants to resisting colonial powers and institutional white supremacy. For the vast majority, people in the ruling class are dealt a far better hand than others for one simple reason—they’re both players and dealers. On top of that, their buddy owns the casino, sets the rules in their favour, and bails them out when they run out of money. They accomplish this not only by looking out for themselves but by pitting everyone else against each other. Politicians, business leaders, bankers, and a cacophony of wealthy and powerful people that rule the world from the shadows collude daily to keep the working class at war with itself. They own the media outlets and the politicians that divide populations along the arbitrary lines of par-
editorial
EDITORIAL
editorial
e e e e e e e e e e e e -
ties that all aim to do the same thing. Conservative fighting with Liberal, Republican fighting with Democrat, these are much the same people in power aiming for much the same goals while simply using a different lens. All this effort to stop the one thing that will truly put their perverted system in jeopardy—class unity and its by-products, such as unionization, means better benefits, higher wages, job security, and so much more—and, ultimately, less money in the pockets of the wealthy. Capitalism only exists in a predatory state and overthrowing or fundamentally altering such a system cannot be done by a select few. The ruling class has created an environment in which people will defend billionaires instead of the people they are abusing every day. Horrible working conditions, marginal pay, and non-existent benefits mean very little to working-class people. The push for class unity is more than a fringe movement or some far-fetched notion. It is a vital first step towards ultimately dismantling a system that has pillaged and exploited the entire planet, leaving billions of people for dead.
A P RIL 2021
5
THE LINK
dy e z
t ra
dicalized you? what radicalized you? what radicalized y
ha
o
w ? u
dicalized you? what radicalized you? what radicalized y
ou? what radicalized you? what radicalized you? what ra
a dic li
ou? what radicalized you? what radicalized you? what ra
6
T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
When I sought help for generalized anxiety disorder a few years ago, I was shocked at how draining the process was. Since I had no family doctor at the time, my best option was to make an appointment at a walk-in clinic. Several of these visits proved useless, with the doctor telling me each time that they couldn’t prescribe me medication as I had no family doctor. In addition to this, the average wait time to speak to a psychologist was two months. It shouldn’t be this difficult to receive help, especially for those who may be in urgent need. I soon began to lose faith in a system that conveniently turns a blind eye on those with mental health concerns. After being assigned a family doctor several months ago, I am still noticing that my mental health concerns are being overlooked, causing me to wonder if there will ever come a day when reaching out for help won’t be so draining. From my experience, I believe that there should be more support groups for those dealing with mental illness and that finding a psychologist should be accessible for anyone. Those seeking help need it immediately, and shouldn’t be forced to wait months for intervention. I’m also hoping that there will come a day when people are more eager to engage in conversations surrounding mental illness and its symptoms, not just mental health. These conversations may be uncomfortable for some, but they’re necessary. — Ashley Fish-Robertson
I know it’s stereotypical, but I read The Communist Manifesto in secondary four and was surprised by how it was still so relevant to today’s society. One passage that caught my attention described the status of women as “instruments of production” for the bourgeoisie. Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels saw communism as the solution to this objectification of women, which inspired the Marxist-feminists of the 19th and 20th centuries. The more I read into Marxist-feminism, the more it became obvious to me that capitalism is at the root of the patriarchy. Since abolishing class is the only way to abolish the social hierarchy, I realized that the only way to abolish the gender hierarchy is by abolishing gender itself. So, that is how I became the gender anarchist Marxist-feminist I am today. — Sophie Dufresne For me, it was more about broadening how much of the world I saw and how much I wanted to keep learning. Seeing my country torn to pieces and my people in complete despair as a result of war accentuated a dreading feeling of helplessness. A class I took last year opened my eyes to human rights injustices and how some people’s daily realities almost seemed fictional. One disturbing realization that was solidified through our lessons was that institutionalized human rights serve to protect the system of power more than the people they set out to protect. Human rights laws and organizations’ mission statements seem perfect on paper, but applying them to the real world is a different ballgame. Money, power, and corruption are the controlling elements that govern decision-making processes of political leaders—the consequences affect innocent populations. But, you don’t even have to cross borders or oceans to see just how messed up the world can be. — Nanor Froundjian
Growing up in working-class London with an immigrant dad and Cockney mum was definitely a starting point in my journey to radicalization. My parents never spoke about politics and we didn’t watch the news—we read tabloids. However, we always criticized the rich. I knew my life wasn’t as hard as some people’s, but I definitely knew what struggling felt like. I knew from a young age that my dad had a hard life growing up. He worked from the age of six selling cigarettes in the Gulf of Naples and he has no official education. To this day his stories make me cry. What officially started me off was The Hunger Games trilogy that I read at 13 years old. I knew it wasn’t real, but I saw similarities in my everyday life. Greedy and selfish bourgeoisie obsessed with being entertained by the working class. Now at 20 years old I know how much there is still to learn, but I’m proud of 13-year-old me for starting it off. — Brogan Romano During my second year as a psychology undergrad, my statistics professor was illustrating a range of salaries on the whiteboard. The diagram exposed the disproportionately high number of people unable to cover the cost of basic necessities, contrasted with a small subpopulation who were wealthy enough to buy a new island every single day if they wanted to. I was prepared to discuss how we could fix that gap, to ask how we could redistribute the wealth to assure that the majority can live adequately and with dignity. However, our class merely used the numbers to generate statistics. Following that experience, I dropped all of my courses and changed programs. That was my first step towards class consciousness. Now, with the knowledge from my studies and personal research, I can understand that capitalism is the root of all social issues. A problem that requires a radical approach as a solution. I love humans, I love my community, I love Mother Earth—and that is the core reason why I’ve become radicalized. — Megan Sicard
I feel most people in North America were radicalized by electoral political figures like Jack Layton or Bernie Sanders. As a child of Tibetan refugees, displaced thousands of kilometres away from my fatherland, I’ve never had the privilege of not caring about politics. I was politicized at birth. The small Tibetan community here protested often. At a young age I was protesting the shooting of Tibetan refugees by China in the Nangpa La Pass, Bombardier building a railway into Tibet—an effort by the state to further its colonial presence. Protesting to build awareness of our political situation, and to ask for help. Politics were always present in my existence as a refugee, yet I still did not fully understand the political forces at work around me. I only knew of their presence and immensity and how it could displace my hundreds of thousands across the globe in its throes. — Kalden Rangdrol Dhatsenpa My road to radicalization began over the course of a week I like to call “Elias Gets Mad at Everything.” In the later stages of high school and most of my first year in CEGEP, I had considered myself a liberal and held left-leaning views about most things, but the route to my holding the beliefs I do made me not only confront my own privilege, but look into ways to rectify it. It was all the way back in July 2016 when I finished Ntozake Shange’s For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf. I already was somewhat aware of the institutional racism plaguing the world but finishing that book only for a Black man by the name of Alton Sterling to be murdered in Louisiana by a police officer a day later had a profound effect on me. A few days later I picked up Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis and never looked back. — Elias Grigoriadis
8
THE LINK
Distressing Silence I don’t have the luxury of ‘becoming radicalized.’ My existence demands it.
Photo Esteban Cuevas
T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
Zakiyyah Boucaud
I
t’s funny being asked “What radicalized you?” as someone who’s very visibly Black. I never got the chance to wander through life in ignorance because growing up Black, you know you’re different before you know who you even are. I wish I could pinpoint a moment in my childhood where I suddenly understood that I was not the same as the characters I saw on TV, but I always knew. It’s funny—and a little frustrating—seeing people the same age as me suddenly become aware of racism or colourism. This has been my reality for 22 years, but so many of my peers get to discover oppression through cute Instagram posts and quirky minutelong TikToks. Once they finish reading or watching their fill of trauma they turn it off and go back to living their happy, blissful, painfully unaware life. I—and so many like me—don’t have the privilege of turning off the trauma or scrolling past the pain. For us, those minute-long TikToks play over and over on an endless loop. I don’t have one big moment that made me realize minority and marginalized people deserved better. My entire life has been made up of small moments compiling, one after the other, shaping me into the person I am today. I grew up knowing something wasn’t right and that how I felt couldn’t have been what my purpose in life was. To be a second-class citizen in my own country? Picked last in the game called life because I was Black? I knew it was wrong, but it’s hard to articulate those feelings when you don’t have the vocabulary for it. So I stayed silent.
P E R S O N A L E S S AY
When I was being followed around in stores as a kid, I stayed silent, because it taught me to always keep my hands visible and to not look like a threat. When I was an outcast for the majority of my years of schooling for being the only Black girl or sometimes the only Black kid, I stayed silent, because I knew I always had to be on my best behaviour. How I was perceived would affect how the people in my class would see the other Black people they encountered, and I owed it to them and myself to at least give them a fighting chance. I stayed silent for so long I forgot what my voice sounded like because I was so unaccustomed to hearing it. I stayed silent for so long that when I started to speak, people told me I was too loud. If I had to say a moment I became “radicalized,” it would be when I went to CEGEP. When I took sociology, anthropology and politics, when I had academics reaffirming what I had always known, something was wrong. When I first came across terms like institutional racism and intersectionality, they felt heavy on my tongue, like they didn’t fit—or worse, they didn’t belong to me. It was as though I had no right to use my newfound knowledge to finally speak up and put a voice to all the feelings that had been bottled up, without an outlet, for all those years. I was scared that my voice didn’t matter, but then I used it anyway. I let my insignificant voice speak and she was loud, she was unapologetic and she wouldn’t and still won’t take no for an answer. You won’t stifle me. You won’t make me feel like an outcast. You won’t silence me any longer. I grew up knowing that something had to change and I wanted to change it. So when I’m asked what radicalized me, I think maybe I became radical the moment I decided I wouldn’t stay silent. But I know what it truly was and I have to laugh before I answer: “I was born a Black woman, my existence is radical.”
A P RIL 2021
9
10
THE LINK
A Beginner’s Guide to Organizing a Protest
The ins and outs of public demonstration Evan Lindsay @heyevanlindsay
Graphic Florent Aniorte
T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
If you live in Montreal, it’s likely you have experienced a protest—whether you were an organizer, participant, or simply watched a crowd march past your apartment. According to the Service de Police de la Ville de Montréal website, each year in Montreal nearly 780 “public demonstrations” are held—a little over two a day. In 2012, a total of 1,377 demonstrations with SPVM crowd control were held, 700 of these in direct response to tuition increases. Montrealers have never been afraid to take to the streets to speak their mind. While extremely common, demonstrations don’t just suddenly happen. Organizing one takes careful planning and consideration. A public demonstration can be an effective way to get a message out, educate, and bring a community together around a central cause. “A protest is a space to make demands,” said Patricia Boushel, a longtime event organizer and member of Mile End Ensemble. “They get a lot of attention because of how they cause a street to close. That in and of itself is a disruption, and a demonstration without a disruption is maybe a bit less effective.”
H O W -T O
The First Steps “The first thing you need to do is assemble a team. Find like-minded people that have the same goal or the same desire to make change,” said John Nathaniel Gertler, a member of the Coalition étudiante pour un virage environnemental et social. A team is essential. You’ll need people to select a space, plan a route—if you plan on marching—and find a way to get the word out about your event. Many demonstrations march or assemble near an important location, which is centrally related to their cause. You could choose to march on Ste-Catherine St. or other busy streets simply because it can bring a lot of attention to your cause. At the event, you will need to have people available to speak to the media and police. You should also have access to a lawyer. Volunteers arrive early to the event to set things up, such as a sound system if you plan on having people speak. They hold banners and help guide the crowd to ensure safety. “Whenever I talk to people about activism, I always [say] that there’s really room in activism for people with any skills, everyone has something that they’re good at, maybe they’re sort of like me and don’t necessarily have a main skill, but this energy to bring,” said Gertler. You should also have people trained in first aid or with medical experience at your event who can be easily identified. A protest can be very volatile— things can get dangerous as people’s passions run high. It’s important organizers mitigate the risk to the safety of participants. “If you want to start organizing more, do some work and try to understand de-escalation,” said Boushel. Many event organizers take de-escalation courses to better prepare themselves for potential conflict, whether it’s between participants and civilians, conflict with the SPVM, or any other conflicts that may arise. Marketing Getting the word out is another challenge; most events use Facebook pages. They’re easily shared throughout
the community and allow organizers to estimate how many people may come to an event. “Writing a press release that you send out right before to get the media to show up to your event, that’s always a big thing,” said Gertler. Protests are community events that bring a lot of people together. You can cultivate a community culture to get people to come out and get involved. “Making it personal, ringing your neighbors, your friends…if they feel it’s a thing that everyone else is doing they’ll show up. Making it personal is really, really important,” said Boushel. The SPVM It’s important that organizers understand that the SPVM will be attending your public demonstration, protest, or march—whether you want them to or not. On their website, the SPVM says you should, “contact the local Police Department to provide the date, location, route of the demonstration, as well as an estimate of the number of demonstrators. If possible, two weeks prior to the event.” In the spirit of protest and civil disobedience, this suggestion is not always followed. Deciding whether or not to notify the SPVM of your event and collaborate with them is an ethical challenge for some organizers. “If you don’t tell them what you intended on doing, you’re up against this, this force, right? But then if you do tell them, it’s their responsibility to protect your right to protest,” said Boushel. Many organizations calling for the defunding or abolishment of the police are now opting not to collaborate with them at all. “The reality is a bunch of cops showing up to an event that they didn’t know was going to happen and then they show up, with greater antagonism,” Boushel continued. One such organization, which is no longer collaborating with the SPVM, is CEVES. “We believe that racial justice is climate justice […] Whether it’s policing and racism or ecological destruction, these same sorts of systems are oppressive, so we decided that we’re not going to collaborate with
11
“I've seen so many people benefit from mobilizing themselves. it's a really great way of building community and supporting each other.” — Patricia Boushel
them,” said Gertler. “The fact that we haven’t given them any information combined with our demands has upped the level of police presence at our protests,” Gertler continued. Organizing can seem very daunting at first. It’s complex, but it’s something Boushel thinks more people should take on. “I’ve seen so many people benefit from mobilizing themselves, it’s a really great way of building community and supporting each other,” said Boushel. “Until you call the protests, you don’t know how many people [will come] ... it’s great, it’s a kind of leap of faith.”
A P RIL 2021
12
THE LINK
Protests can get dangerous, especially once the police show up. Always come prepared and understand the risk you can take on. Non-specialized equipment won’t offer total protection, but it can help maintain a certain level of comfort when faced with police repression. You’ll likely still feel the tear gas, but you might not be incapacitated to the point where you can’t run away from the riot cop chasing you. No amount of equipment makes you completely immune from harm, so don’t think because you’re decked out in gear that you should stand your ground when faced with tear gas and batons. Avoid dangerous situations when you can and don’t rely on your equipment to save you.
Alexandre Denis @lexandre_denis
.
How to
Protect Yourself From Police at a Protest Helmet: Helmets can protect you from projectiles, batons, and the ground. Sport helmets and hardhats won’t protect your head from everything, but they are better than nothing. They are also a way to identify yourself as press or medic if necessary.
.
Goggles: A good pair of goggles should protect you from projectiles and chemical irritants. Ballistic protection is arguably more important; tear gas is temporary but a rubber bullet to the eye is forever. For tear gas and pepper spray, you need an airtight seal. If you need corrective lenses, you’ll need to compromise by wearing them under goggles and weakening the seal unless you are ready to spend a lot on prescription goggles. Avoid contacts, they can damage your eyes if exposed to tear gas or pepper spray.
.
T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
Clothes: Wearing black bloc can help blend in with the crowd. On the other hand, if you are a journalist or medic, try to stand out and clearly identify yourself. Don’t wear anything you aren’t ready to ruin, and dress comfortably for the weather. Body armour is an option, but unless you plan on fighting back, you might be better shedding the weight to be more nimble. Gloves can also be useful, but get heat-resistant gloves if you plan on throwing back tear gas canisters.
.
.
.
Mouthguard: Teeth are fragile and expensive. While mouthguards are annoying and a baton to the teeth might seem like a rare occurrence, it’s something to consider.
Respirator: Something as cheap as an N95 mask can help reduce the effects of tear gas and pepper spray. Half face respirators with P100 cartridges are likely the best budget option. Complete protection is hard to attain, but every little bit counts. Ensure your mask fits well and consider shaving any facial hair to ensure a proper seal.
Shoes: Comfortable shoes are crucial because you might find yourself walking all day and running at times. Steel toe shoes can be good for protection (and aggression) but are generally heavy and uncomfortable. Even if you are well equipped, running away is often the best option.
H O W -T O
A P RIL 2021
13
14
Q & A THE LINK
Q: How do Montreal tenant protections compare to other Canadian cities?
Know Your Housing Rights Maxime Roy-Allard explains how to stand up to your Montreal landlord
Marcus Bankuti @marcusbankuti
Montreal once enjoyed a reputation as a bastion of affordable housing, but those days are gone. Nowadays, many landlords are embracing creative ways to rid themselves of longtime tenants in a bid to lease their units at higher prices. To learn more about how tenants can protect themselves, The Link interviewed Maxime Roy-Allard, spokesperson for an association of housing committees known as the Regroupement des comités logement et associations de locataires du Québec. Here are his tips on how tenants can spot a dirty trick and fight back against landlords who exploit a system that commodifies a basic need. This interview has been edited for brevity and clarity.
T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
It’s provincial. Quebec tenants are better protected from renoviction because when the landlord does major repairs, the tenants have the right to come back to the apartment. It’s not the case in every province in the rest of Canada. But that’s on paper. If you look at reality, tenants don’t come back afterwards most of the time because the landlords actually ask them to sign a piece of paper that says that they give away their lease. That’s what’s happening. But then, if you compare Quebec and Ontario regarding non-payment for tenants that are late in their rent, Ontario tenants are way better protected. We can say tenants have a second chance in Ontario, and in Quebec it’s very quick. If you’re late in the rent for three weeks, your landlord can actually go to the tribunal and evict you.
Q: What are some common ways landlords get around tenant protections?
They send fake eviction notices. They kind of rewrite the law, really. They’ll send someone to the door and ask the tenant to sign a piece of paper that says they agree to leave their apartment. Afterwards, tenants come and see us and say, “I signed that, but I don’t want to leave. What can I do?” But usually it’s too late. Another tactic is offering money. Again, if you sign anything, if you accept any money, there’s nothing we can really do afterwards to keep you in your apartment. Also major repairs—if, for instance, a landlord evicts some of the tenants in the building, but some others did not agree to leave, the landlord’s going to start repairs in the apartment next to the tenants and basically make their life hell.
Q: Do landlords sometimes try to get around that by not using written notices and just telling people?
Yes. We see that, just verbal notification or a phone call. Unfortunately, many tenants actually agree to that because they don’t know their rights very well, and they think landlords must know their rights, but that’s
INTERVIEW
not the case. Many landlords actually act in bad faith and lie to tenants to convince them to leave.
Q: Your landlord tells you you’ll need to move out soon. What should you do?
Tenants need to know their lease is automatically renewed every year, and your landlord can only evict you for certain reasons. The two main exceptions are repossession of the dwelling—to put your mother or your son in the apartment, for instance— and the other is if you want to enlarge or subdivide your apartment. If in the eviction notice is not about that, you should be really careful. Do not sign anything on the spot. Go and ask a housing committee for some help, and they will explain to you what your rights are. But if we’re only talking about major repairs and there’s no subdivision or enlargement of the apartment, the tenants keep the right to come back afterwards, and at the time of the evacuation, the landlord has to pay any fees that are not normal. If you need to find a new place, if you need to go to a hotel or go to a restaurant, your landlord needs to reimburse you. Many tenants don’t know their rights about major repairs and think they can’t come back afterwards.
Q: If it is to enlarge or subdivide the unit, are they entitled to a payment from the landlord?
Yes. Three months plus moving fees.
Q: Why might a landlord prefer to get you out verbally instead of with written notice?
Because with the written notice you could go to your local housing committee and ask them if it’s okay, whereas when it’s verbal, it’s kind of hard to tell exactly what happened. It’s harder to go to court with that as well because if it goes to court, it’s going to be your word against his word, and that’s always harder. Especially where landlords are usually more organized and they know their rights and they have more money to fight you.
Q: Do you have situations where a landlord says, for instance, their son needs the apartment, so you have to move out, and next thing you know the apartment is on the rental market again?
Oh yeah. All the time. Tenants don’t usually fight the repossession. They just want to find a new place and forget about this, and that’s a problem because the tribunal does not do an inspection afterwards to see if the project that was intended really happened. So that’s a pretty big problem.
15
Need to contact your local housing committee? Visit RCLALQ.qc.ca for more information or find yours below: Action Dignité de Saint-Léonard 514-251-2874, actdigsl@cooptel.qc.ca Arnold Bennett’s Housing Hotline (Westmount) 514-488-0412 Association des locataires de Villeray 514-270-6703, alv@cooptel.qc.ca Centre éducatif communautaire René-Goupil (Saint-Michel) 514-596-4420, cecrg.bil@gmail.com Comité d’action des citoyennes et des citoyens de Verdun 514-769-2228, accueil@cacv-verdun.org
Q: How can you fight a lazy or cheap landlord who won’t make repairs you Comité d’action Parc Extension need? 514-278-6028, cape@cooptel.qc.ca In Montreal, there’s two ways you can act on that. First, you can contact the city. City inspectors can come in and see if it’s dangerous or if some repairs need to be done. They can force the landlord to do something or face fines. Also, you can always open a case at the Tribunal administratif du logement to ask the tribunal to force the landlord to do repairs, and you can get a reduction of your rent for some time if it was bad.
Comité logement Ahuntsic-Cartierville 514-331-1773, info@comitelogement. com Comité logement de la Petite Patrie 514-272-9006, clpp@bellnet.ca Comité logement de Lachine-Lasalle 514-544-4294, logement.lachine-lasalle@videotron.ca Comité logement de Montréal-Nord 514-852-9253, info@clmn.ca Comité logement de Rosemont 514-597-2581, info@comitelogement.org
Q: What should you do if you fall behind on your rent? How can you fight Comité logement du Plateau Mont-Royal 514-527-3495, clplateau@clpmr.com an eviction if it comes to that, and Comité logement Saint-Laurent what resources are there for you? There’s not that many resources. That’s really sad. So, if your rent is more than three weeks late, your landlord can go to the tribunal and ask for the money and also for your eviction. The only way to stay, really, is to pay back what you owe before the court releases the decision. Otherwise, it’s very harsh. We have a really harsh system of non-payment eviction in Quebec. We’ve been fighting this for a really long time, but the government does not do anything about this.
514-331-9898, comitelogement.saintlaurent@gmail.com Comité logement Ville-Marie 514-521-5992, info@clvm.org Entraide Logement Hochelaga-Maisonneuve 514-528-1634, elhm@cam.org Infologis de l’Est de l’Île de Montréal 514-354-7373, info@infologis.ca
LogisAction NDG 514-360-7209, intervenants@logisaction. ca OEIL Côtes-des-Neiges
Q: Sometimes people want to deal 514-738-0101, oeilcdn@videotron.ca with apartment problems by with- POPIR Comité logement (Sud-Ouest) holding their rent. Is this a mistake? 514-935-4649, info@popir.org Yes. It can be really dangerous because your landlord can open a case against you for non-payment or late rent, and the judges really don’t like tenants who do that, so it’s really tricky.
Projet Genèse (Côte-des-Neiges) 514-738-2036 Regroupement Information Logement (Pointe-Saint-Charles) 514-437-8822, info@rilpsc.org
A P RIL 2021
16
THE LINK
Q: What are some reasons you find tenants are hesitant to take their landlord to the Tribunal administratif du logement?
To be honest, in so many cases tenants are afraid in general to fight their landlords and go to confront their landlords at the tribunal. In most cases, tenants are reluctant to open cases against their landlord because they’re afraid of the repercussions. If you ask your landlord to do some repairs and they don’t do anything, it’s their obligation to act. If they do not, the only solution is to go to the housing tribunal and force them to do so, to act and do the repairs, or some landlords can do some pretty bad things like calling their tenants at any time of the day to try to force them out. You can also open a case against your landlord at the tribunal to stop them from doing that. If you ask your landlord to do some
repairs and they don’t do anything, it’s their obligation to act. If they do not, the only solution is to go to the housing tribunal and force them to do so, to act and do the repairs or— some landlords can do some pretty bad things like calling their tenants at any time of the day to try to force them out, so you can also open a case against your landlord at the tribunal to stop them from doing that.
Q: Have you ever had somebody take their landlord to the tribunal for a good reason, and next month they get a repossession notice?
First, for repossession of dwelling, notice needs to be sent six months before the end of the lease. But we see that quite often, landlords fighting back against tenants that fight back for their rights. It’s always in the minds of tenants, I think. That’s why tenants need to be better protected.
Q: Should people decline their rent increases?
It depends. You need to calculate it before you refuse it because it could go against you. Let’s say your landlord asks for $20 and it accords with the guidelines, if you refuse it and your landlord goes to the court, they might get $30, and you will have to pay for the fees too for the case, so that can be dangerous. Before refusing, tenants should contact their housing committee. They will help you calculate what you should accept.
Q: What should you do if you’re apartment hunting and the landlord is asking for something that is against the rules, like a last month’s rent deposit?
Again, that’s very tricky, because if you say it’s illegal, the landlord’s not going to rent to you. You could pay it and, when the lease is signed, tell your landlord the security deposit is not allowed, so the next month of rent is going to be reduced by this amount of money. If you go to the tribunal you’d probably win. That’s the thing, there’s the law on paper, and there’s those power dynamics between landlords and tenants. If tenants actually go against a landlord and say no, that’s illegal, they’re going to be the loser because they’re not going to get the apartment. That’s the problem here.
Q: What can we do to change the system?
Well, we have many demands for the Quebec government. It needs to implement actual rent control and a rent registry. It needs to change the law to stop evictions, to make them illegal, and give landlords huge fines for illegal evictions. Right now, there’s nothing that stops them. They’re not afraid of doing it. There needs to be huge consequences for them if they don’t follow the law.
Q: What about on an individual level. What can we do to try and fight against rising rents? Affordable rent in Montreal is becoming a thing of the past. Graphic Marcus Bankuti T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
What we recommend to tenants is, when they have an affordable apartment, they should transfer the lease to another person so landlords
INTERVIEW
won’t be able to increase the rent by that much. That’s a really easy way to kind of fight rent increases. When you move out, you should also leave your lease to the next tenant, so they will know what the previous rent was and they might fight it. When you move in, if the landlord increased the rent by too much, you can open a case with the rental board. The landlord actually has the obligation to put the information on the lease, but very often they don’t do it, and there’s no consequence. There’s no fine, there’s no nothing. Since we don’t have a rent registry, it’s very problematic, because you never know beforehand what the previous rent was. Of course, not many people want to go against the rent they just agreed to. Especially when you know your landlord’s going to be really not happy with you afterwards.
Q: How important are the Comité logements in the fight to rebalance power between tenants and landlords?
They are very important in helping tenants know their rights and help them on an individual level to fight their landlords. On a collective level, they have advocated for some improvements in tenant protections over the years and, more importantly, to stop some reforms that were giving landlords more power. I think that’s the main difference between Quebec and the rest of Canada, where there’s no such thing as housing committees, not in the way there is in Quebec. In Quebec, we have more than 50 housing committees in cities, many in neighbourhoods in Montreal. They’ve been fighting for more than 45 years now. It’s better here than it is elsewhere. It’s still not perfect. Right now, I think we’re losing a lot with this huge rent increase in Montreal and elsewhere. We might become the next Toronto pretty soon, but I think we’ve been quite successful in that.
Q: How important is it to the vitality of Montreal that we protect affordable housing?
If nothing is done to keep rent affordable, we’re going to lose a lot. The diversity of the city is going to be lost forever, especially in central neigh
Don’t worry, my landlord says these stairs are perfectly safe. Photo Marcus Bankuti
bourhoods. You won’t find any low-income households anymore if nothing is done, and I think that’s what happened in Vancouver and in many big cities around the world. We don’t want Montreal to become the next of these cities. That’s why we need to implement rent control and a rent registry, to build more social housing—to keep Montreal for everyone.
Q: If someone has an issue and they need more information or need help, who should they contact? On our website there’s a list of housing committees in Montreal and elsewhere. They need to find the nearest organization and call them so they can get help from them.
A P RIL 2021
17
18
THE LINK
Do the Police Exist to Protect Us? As the sayings ‘ACAB’ and ‘defund the police’ become more popular, attention is brought on police brutality and the need to abolish oppressive institutions Sophie Dufresne
Graphic Esteban Cuevas Whether the police exist to protect or to oppress us often depends on whom you ask. If you ask a Liberal, they might reply that the police exist to protect us all, including minority communities. If you ask a Conservative, they might affirm that the police exist to protect everyone, that the police are colour blind. However, in recent years, light has been shed on the systematic racism this institution is built on and society is gradually becoming more aware of the cruelties marginalized communities often endure as a result of policing. In the wake of this realization has emerged a slogan: “ACAB,” sometimes written “1312,” substituting the letters with numbers. This mantra of sorts has grown in popularity across social media platforms with the rise of T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
media’s attention on police brutality in the United States and in Canada. “ACAB” originated in London in the 20th century and originally stood for “All Coppers Are Bastards,” though, outside of the UK, “Coppers” is often replaced with “Cops.” The saying soon found its way inyo punk culture, allowing it to travel across the Atlantic and into our own society, as we can find it graffitied in almost every neighbourhood in Montreal. Even at the anti-police brutality protest from March 15, people held signs that read “ACAB 1312.” It is important to understand why so many people believe that all cops are bastards despite all the “good” police officers seem (read: pretend) to be doing by protecting our communities from crime.
The first modern police force is often thought to be the London Metropolitan Police, established in 1829 by Robert Peel. This agency claimed to prevent crime, but its real purpose was to protect the upper classes and prevent riots and rebellions from the lower classes. Essentially, to maintain the status quo. Today, the main function of the police is still to maintain the status quo. They do so by attending every protest and making mass arrests. For example, in 2013, in Montreal, they arrested a total of over 530 people over the span of three weeks and two protests—both against police brutality. During the North American protests against police brutality in the wake of George Floyd’s murder, police wore riot gear and attacked protestors.
OPINION
According to The Independent, one was accused of “stomping” on a pregnant woman, causing a miscarriage. Another was accused of shooting a rubber bullet in the eye of another woman, causing her to lose the eye. Where does the saying “ACAB” come in? Police brutality has clearly existed since the creation of the first police force, and it is only escalating as people are starting to realize the fundamental flaws in the system. As Victoria
habited this region so the Hudson’s Bay Company could illegally claim the territory. The Mounties, as they are often called, kidnapped Indigenous children and tortured, assaulted, raped, and murdered them by bringing them to the horrendous residential schools. The last residential school may have closed its doors in 1996, but the oppression Indigenous communities face due to over-policing is ongoing.
“We aren’t talking about some bad apples, we’re really talking about a system built on the oppression of certain communities.” — Marlihan Lopez Gagliardo-Silver from The Independent puts it, “‘ACAB’ means every single police officer is complicit in a system that actively devalues the lives of people of colour.” In British Indian colonies, the police had the role of ensuring the natives did not revolt, despite the police force being an overwhelmingly Indian majority. The reason the Indians within the police force did not revolt was because the British had successfully divided the different Indian “races,” and recruited the Muslims from Northern India to join the British in oppressing the “races” that were deemed inferior. This is exactly why implementing diversity programs in police forces does not work. Hiring more Black cops will not prevent unarmed Black civilians from being shot and killed by police because the police are inherently a racist institution. There’s a reason it’s called “institutional racism.” In Canada, John A. MacDonald formed The North-West Mounted Police in 1873. The NWMP, now known as the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, had the colonial purpose of uniting the Northwest to the rest of Canada. One of their main mandates was, once again, not to prevent crime, but to assimilate the Indigenous populations that rightfully in-
“We aren’t talking about some bad apples [within the police force],” explained Marlihan Lopez from Montreal’s Defund the Police Coalition. “We’re really talking about a system built on the oppression of certain communities.” DPC is an alliance of several community organizations that have come together in the wake of George Floyd’s murder in order to pressure governments to defund the police and then reinvest in communities. “Black and Indigenous communities have historically been vulnerable to state violence,” Lopez pointed out, explaining that all one needs to do to understand the systematicness of police violence is to watch the news or look into the history of police in Canada. “It’s time to address these issues [and] to reimagine public safety for all of us,” she concluded. Of course, changes are not going to happen overnight. According to Lopez, defunding the police and adopting anti-carceral approaches is a process whose end goal is to “invest resources in addressing roots of violence.” She stressed the importance of reinvesting the resources taken from police departments into community programs, housing services, health care services, gender-based violence programs, and many more public services.
19
People may view prison abolishment as an unrealistic goal, but Lopez says to “reflect on how government and institutions have a role [in our understanding of prisons].” She concluded that governmental institutions “haven’t allowed us to imagine any other alternatives [to prisons and police].” In his book The End of Policing, Alex S. Vitale argues that reforming the police by improving training, implementing diversity programs, or even installing body cameras on officers is unlikely to decrease police brutality. Vitale claims the issue with policing is not abuse of power, but policing itself. He explains how fighting crime, despite it being what the public believes to be the main focus of the police, constitutes only a small part of a police officer’s day. Their main duties include patrolling schools, dealing with individuals with mental health difficulties, and hiding poverty from the public eye—with Montreal’s curfew laws, this goes as far as criminalizing homelessness. Even more duties include helping the political agenda of certain groups, and enforcing immigration policies—think of the U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement—among many other non-crime-related activities. Vitale urges that the police should not be involved in dealing with individuals with mental disorders, as that is criminalizing mental illness. He adds that sex work should not be policed because that harms society’s most vulnerable, and ending the war on drugs is a crucial step towards ending policing and prisons. The police are not an institution that was created to protect us. As political scientist David Bayley argued: “The police do not prevent crime. […] Yet the police pretend that they are society’s best defence against crime and continually argue that if they are given more resources, especially personnel, they will be able to protect communities against crime. This is a myth.” ACAB simply means that, although some cops may lead what they believe to be an honest life, all cops work for an inherently oppressive institution that must be abolished in order to reinvest in transformative justice. A P RIL 2021
20
A YEAR THE LINK
The death of Joyce Echaquan highlighted systemic racism in Quebec. Thousands descended upon Place Émilie-Gamelin to call for justice in the chilly afternoon on Saturday, Oct. 3, 2020. Photo Philippe Champagne
Both survivors of sexual assault and allies leaned on each other during sexual assault awareness demonstration, as countless emotional testimonies were delivered at Parc Lafontaine, in Montreal, on July 19, 2020. Photo Caroline T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
PHOTO SERIES
Around 500 protestors marched the streets of Notre-Dame-deGrâce calling for the reallocation of police funding to social services on Nov. 7, 2020. Photo Caroline Marsh
Following the death of multiple Asian women in a mass shooting in Georgia, thousands of supporters gathered in a march against anti-Asian racism on March 21, 2021. The march was organized by Asian activists in Montreal and was followed by a vigil to pay respects to the eight victims of the shooting, six of whom were Asian women. Photo Léa Beaulieu-Kratchanov Thousands of people from Montreal’s Armenian community gathered in Dorchester Square to protest Azerbaijani and Turkish aggression against the disputed territory of Artsakh, more commonly known as Nagorno-Karabakh on Sunday, Oct. 4, 2020. Photo Esteban Cuevas
A P RIL 2021
21
22
IN PROT
THE LINK
Montrealers lined up outside S.W. Welch Bookseller in Mile End on March 13, 2021 to participate in a readin after commercial landlord Shiller Lavy Realties attempted to raise the store’s rent by 150 per cent, which would have forced it to close. Photo Léa Beaulieu-Kratchanov
In the midst of a snowstorm on Jan. 16, around 75 protestors gathered at Place Simon-Valois in Hochelaga at 3:30 p.m. to demonstrate against Premier François Legault’s 8 p.m. to 5 a.m. curfew. Photo Esteban Cuevas
T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
Protesters take a knee and raise their fists at the summer’s second Black Lives Matter protest on June 7, 2020. Photo Esteban Cuevas
23
IN PROTES
TEST
PHOTO SERIES
Top left: Hundreds of protesters surrounded Mount Royal in a physically distanced chain at the George-Étienne Cartier statue at the base of Mount Royal on Friday, June 13, 2020, to denounce Bill 61, hours before it was announced the bill did not pass. Top right: Activists took down the statue of Sir John A. Macdonald in downtown Montreal during Nationwide March to Defund the Police. Montreal, Aug. 29, 2020. Photo Caroline Marsh Bottom: Some 1,500 people gathered at Cabot Square late in the afternoon on April 3 to commemorate the life of Rebekah Love Harry and condemn domestic violence. Photo Ibrahim Mahmoud
A P RIL 2021
24
THE LINK
‘I didn’t want to complain until I sort of felt attacked’ Students face obstacles when complaining about problematic teachers
I
Parker Sherry n a two-year-old post from Reddit’s r/Concordia, a frustrated user asks where they could go to complain about one of their teachers. According to the student, the professor would replace words in their essays with synonyms they preferred, lowering the paper’s grade when they did so. There were also technical problems in class the teacher had neglected to fix, making it impossible to view important course material. Did anyone know, they asked, what could be done about this? The post’s replies, most from now-defunct accounts, all say the same thing: “You’ll have to run it through your specific department. However, I hate to say it but your concerns will probably go straight into a drawer.” “Don’t bother they won’t do anything.” “Concordia doesn’t care, man. I’ve tried to go down that route in the past and [the] only thing that happened was me learning that Concordia just doesn’t give a shit about employee quality.” Two opinions reign: Concordia students aren’t told how to file complaints against problematic faculty members, and they don’t think doing so will change anything. There are several ways Concordia students can go about filing a complaint. If they want to complain informally, they can speak to a teacher they trust or the head of the department, who may take care of the situation on their behalf. If the concern is more serious, the Office of Rights and Responsibilities and the CSU Advocacy Centre both provide students with advice, resources, and assistance when filing charges against a teacher. But the reality of that process is a lot more complicated than it sounds. The Link spoke to a professor, who has helped settle disputes between students and other teachers, and who asked to be anonymous. According to them, the process can be “extremely stressful” for students who decide to file a complaint. “It usually only happens if there’s a situation that feels like it’s chronic,” they said. “If it’s not one remark or one test, that feels like it was unfair. When those things keep happening, I think students feel like they need to talk to somebody, not just for themselves but for future students as well.” Their department recommends that students first attempt to resolve issues informally. If a professor is involved, a conversation might be set up between them and the student who lodged the complaint. But many students T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
do not feel comfortable publicly complaining about a teacher whose class they attend. “If I was in a situation where I felt uncomfortable about how things were transpiring,” the professor admitted, “I would probably not feel like I could talk to the professor about it.” The Link also reached out to a student who complained about their teacher earlier in the semester. They too asked for anonymity. “From the beginning, I had a lot of anxiety going in,” they said. The student described how they felt put down by their professor, and wondered if their classmates shared their distress. “After the first day of class, I wasn’t necessarily happy that I’d taken it.” According to them, the teacher did not respond well to student discussion, and would regularly continue lectures half an hour later than they were scheduled to end. During one lecture, in particular, the teacher’s remarks affected the student’s mental health greatly, but they still felt hesitant to complain. “After that class, I had half a mental breakdown,” they said. “I didn’t want to complain until I sort of felt attacked, and even then, I really wanted to remain anonymous because I didn’t want to put my grades in jeopardy.” “Your academic future is at stake,” the professor told The Link. “You know that the instructor has power over you and over your grade. Nobody wants to get into that situation and then have to take an academic reassessment. Everybody hopes to be able to resolve things informally without having to attach their name to a situation and go through the stress.” On the New Concordians 2020-2021 Facebook page, over 100 first-year students were polled about whether they felt comfortable filing a formal complaint against a teacher. Twenty-one per cent of students replied that they would feel comfortable complaining, but only if they could do so anonymously. Over 50 per cent said they would file a complaint if they knew how, but didn’t. “It’s still kind of a labyrinth,” the faculty member said. “Students are thinking, do I go to the chair? The Office of Rights? Some students might say ‘the Office of Rights is great’ and others have said ‘I don’t trust them,’ so it’s really complicated, and in a way I don’t know how it could be otherwise.” After reaching out to their department, the student learned that several other complaints had already been filed against their instructor, and that a process was underway
NEWS
to replace them. However, the department did not formally notify their class of this until two weeks later. During that time, no lectures were held, and the class’s Zoom links remained inactive. “That was poorly managed,” the student said. “I’m not blaming that on my teacher—I just think there was a lack of communication.” The professor also outlined how the Concordia University Part-Time Faculty Association (CUPFA) could pose problems for students who want to see action taken against a faculty member. “What I’ve been told is that complaints against part-time faculty go into their file,” they said. “If there are a certain number of them in one year, there’s a procedure that happens, punitive action is taken, and the professor may be removed from the classroom.” This is in line with article 12.03 of CUPFA’s collective agreement: “Part-time faculty members who have acquired at least twenty-four (24) seniority credits shall not be dismissed without having received two (2) written warnings. A reasonable time must elapse between each of the warnings and between the last warning and a dismissal.” However, article 12.05 of the agreement states that “After a period of eighteen (18) months has elapsed, any record of disciplinary action is considered null and void, and is removed from the part-time faculty member’s academic and professional dossier by the University provided there has not been any disciplinary action in the interim and provided that the part-time faculty member has held at least one (1) part-time contract during that period.” The statement nearly echoes that of the Reddit commenter who worried that their “concerns [would] probably go straight into a drawer.” “The institution is this big organism that has many parts and they’re not internally consistent,” the professor said. “Everyone wants the students to feel like they’re being well-served academically, that they’re in a respectful and safe situation, but the fact that it is a bureaucracy can probably make you feel like the institution isn’t working to help the student.” “The meetings, the forms—that’s all very alienating,” they added. “A lot of people would rather just suffer
25
through it than venture into that.” The Reddit thread was posted around the same time that a string of sexual assault allegations at the university had come to light. While most of these accusations were filed in 2018, and received mainstream media attention, the incidents originally took place in the 1990s. The professor was unaware of the situation but stated that they knew students who had come forward with their own experiences of sexual harassment. “That was really hard because I felt a responsibility toward them,” the professor said. “I felt like I should have asked more. It’s hard to even know what to say.” Graphic Maria Chabelnik
A P RIL 2021
26
THE LINK
La Rebelión Comes at a Cost How political resistance in Latin America has been met with deadly violence
Camila Colmenares When my parents and older brother left Colombia before I was even born, my brother would listen to the news talking about our country as “the country of bombs.” Drug dealers would refer to our country this way due to their political opposition to the Colombian government. He was confused and decided to ask my mother what country that was. In Colombian Spanish, bomba means both bomb and balloon, hence my mother decided to buy as many balloons as she could and filled his bedroom up with them. As she didn’t want him to associate his country solely with violence, she told him that his bedroom was the country of bombs. A while ago, I was listening to La Rebelión, by Joe Arroyo, with a non-Latina friend. Without knowing what the lyrics were saying, she said that she loved the rhythm since it is so uplifting. The song talks about an enslaved African couple taken to Cartagena, Colombia, by Spanish colonizers around the 17th century. The juxtaposition of the rhythm and lyrics were surprising to my friend, and I realized in that exact moment that it serves to represent Latino culture. Our countries have suffered unimaginable events, yet we have always found and created art as a form of cultural T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
and political resistance. Historically, the problem with freedom of expression in Latin America is that protests end with rides to the hospital, police stations, or funerary planning. Case in point: Dilan. In 2019, several protests were held all around Colombia to voice the people’s concerns with the economic and social policies implemented by the current government, the homicide of several social leaders, and the handling of the 2016 peace accord. Dilan Cruz Medina was just 18 years old when a member of the Colombian Mobile Anti-Disturbance Squadron killed him at a protest. Of course, the government and several news sources failed to mention that he was indeed killed as a result of police brutality. Sources that remain truthful and trustworthy are scarce in Latin America, as political organizations tend to intervene in the news shown to the public. Several countries have had to resort to starting independent newspapers to avoid said intervention. Colombian activist groups have reported over 1,000 assassinations since 2016, although official government statistics only recognizes 415. By October 2020, 223 Colombian human rights activists were declared dead that year.
E S S AY
The number of activist assassinations in Colombia is increasingly concerning. The fact that activist groups’ statistics do not match the statistics outlined by the government shows that the state chooses what discourse will be hidden and what will be shared with the people. This is not only problematic because the state cannot be trusted but also because the uncertainty of knowing what happened or who murdered these activists is devastating for anyone who has lost a loved one this way. State suppression, however, happens in many Latino countries. In 2019, the National Assembly of Panama attempted to reform the constitution to get away with modifying the national budget and granting deputies power to censor ministers, among other things. The people, including foreigners living in Panama (although they were later banned from protesting, as the government stated it could “affect their legal status in the country”), decided to protest against this event. As a former resident of Panama, I was able to see pictures and videos taken by protestors that I personally know. When researching the subject, I read a headline saying, “Panama: Violent protests reported in Panama City October 30,” yet social media told a different story. I saw
27
pictures on Twitter that display people sitting on the floor and holding hands. There is a clear difference between what government-influenced media portray and what the people share. Years of U.S. intervention in Latino nations have prolonged and worsened the economic and political crisis, acting like judges issuing penalties instead of assuming responsibility. We are denied visas, looked at and treated with disgust, and worse, we suffer in our countries due to their manipulation. Latinos, however, are standing firm. Several countries have now implemented the use of this phrase in protest posters: “Mamá, me iré a luchar por [país respectivo], si no vuelvo, me fui con ella” (Mom, I’m going to go fight for [respective country], if I don’t come back, I left with it). The number of assassinations is so elevated, it has gotten to the point where people are no longer surprised. Aquí se respira lucha [here we breathe battle], and we will until justice is found for Dilan Cruz (Colombia), Jairo Ortiz (Venezuela), Yoshua Osorio (Chile), Julio Llanos Rojas (Bolivia), Inti Sotelo (Peru), Ángel Gahona (Nicaragua), and every single soul that has been lost while fighting. A P RIL 2021
FICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICT
FICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFI 28
THE LINK
On Mountains and Beasts Nicholas Dundorf
My dad was already married to the mountain when we arrived. The ceremony had occurred when he
was a child, after his beast of a father had hit him a little too long, a few too many times. The world was unkind, unstable, and the pine-peppered rock was consistent. It was consistent in the same way that the discourse of choke points and lines of sight would pervade our family dinners to come. The brutality and desolation of the winters on the mountain were legendary, but practical hardship was not a concern for my father. Even the local human dangers, a power-hungry sheriff or reports of armed-bandits-in-hiding only vindicated his worldview, our worldview. What terrified my father was our coming annihilation. This was a topic of frequent dinner table discussion.
The Bomb was coming any day became the computers would break; be-
came the plague is coming; became something just isn’t right; became MK ULTRA; became COINTELPRO; became what about the oil; became the sea levels rising; became that disease; became drone strikes; became lizard people; became there’s something just so sick about it all; became Any day now.
Any day I could ask myself why, despite my best efforts, firearms proliferat-
ed in my closet like the flowers of the potted plant on the windowsill. The guns sprout out of pots of ammunition until their trunks are obscured behind a now-too-baggy suit that I wore to my father’s second wedding. The guns were cousin to the two modest 55-gallon drums of rice and beans in the basement. In their company were sealed packages of space blankets, water filters, and medical equipment.
My mountain of supplies helps me sleep at night. When I wake up, get
ready for work, there’s only a tingle at the base of my neck. It turns to an itch as I get to the job, talking over the top of my screen to elderly women or technologically incompetent men who are too confident to let their wives know that they couldn’t find the ethernet port. I have mastered the customer service voice and the ability to smile. Smile, no matter what they spit in my face.
Now the khaki-clad manager occasionally slips by, and we discuss “the state of affairs.” We’re on the
same page, according to him. Barrels and packages rated for five-to-ten years are something we share in common. He confides and the itch becomes a sharpening, becomes a jolt of electricity from ass to neck. Something just isn’t right.
“It’s a long time coming,” he says. He says they’ve let too many Muslims over, that the liberals are going
to send the country into chaos. He says, when shit hits the fan, the liberals have it coming. He says, can you work through the weekend? Christmas is coming and we need all hands on deck. I take lunch in my car: a peanut butter sandwich, a tupperware of carrot sticks, and a plastic baggy of screaming into the steering wheel.
Photo Nicholas Dundorf T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
FICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFI
ICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFIC It wasn’t always this way; it won’t always be this way. On the way home, there’s a minifridge by the side of the road, trailing an orange extension cord and labelled “$5, or your honour.” Next, a collapsing wooden barn guarded by a few tired pigs. I think of the piles of too-ugly produce and expired dry goods in the dumpster behind the grocery store, a few outlets down from where I work.
My car window is down and the air streams in, nearly warm. It’s supposed to be winter.
None of this can last. I feel it in my bones. Not an original or even unique thought, but a lawless void
pulls at me hard. At some point I realized my father was right about this thing, though not timely. He saw beasts in men. He saw the beast in his father and he saw his own monstrous reflection in the bathroom mirror.
I asked my manager who he will save in the shelter he has built on his great uncle’s property. He’ll have
room for his family. “After all, what’s more important?” he reasoned. I don’t talk to my family anymore.
When I go on my smoke breaks on Wednesdays when the grocer purges their old stock, I see some
dusty individuals creep up to the padlocked dumpster. One stands watch on the corner, one picks the lock, and the other tosses whole chickens and vegetables into backpacks. I wonder if they like rice and beans.
It’s my least favourite part of the day. Pulling into the driveway, the house is
cold and dark. Yet something tingles as I climb the steps and test the knob as usual. The door is unlocked. Muddy footprints on the welcome mat. My spine lights up like a Christmas tree. I fumble for the lightswitch, fail, and lunge for the aluminum baseball bat under the coat rack.
Something metal tips over in the kitchen. I shudder and creep along the wall
as my eyes adjust to the darkness. I pounce onto the linoleum, turning on the light as I do. A creature looms behind the chair. My overweight, orange cat, Buster, looks up at me expectantly. At his feet is a recently filled food bowl.
My breath returns to me as I realize we are alone, besides a hearty casserole
on the table. My neighbour’s handwriting on the sticky note beside it reads: I heard you haven’t been doing so well, so I wanted you to know we’re thinking of you. Anyways, it’s not fair that Buster gets fed and you don’t. -Maud. I put down the bat and cut a piece.
After my evening rituals, I drag myself into the bathroom. I lean into the sink
and notice I’m low on toothpaste. There’s a man before me, and we meet each other’s gaze. He looks startlingly similar to my father, back when I was a terrified boy on a mountain. He’s tired, but his belly is full and he is not alone.
Some people fantasize about the void. When it all goes, these people believe that they will be the one
good person hanging on, kicking the beasts off of the lifeboat. The truth is that those who think this way see themselves in the bathroom mirror and cannot help but believe everyone else sees the same thing while brushing their teeth.
The truth is that many beasts wear khakis.
Most wear suits.
The truth is that a life lived protecting your bunker or your mountain from the riff-raff is a lonely one and
that all beasts are lonely. My father’s mountain was reliable only in its seclusion. The only thing consistent in my life is a desk. Lest I become a beast, my rice and beans will be for sharing. I have no mountain, only neighbors.
A P RIL 2021
29
TIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTION
FICTION
ICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFICTIONFIC
30
THE LINK
POE TRY
Body Aqua By Morgan Moakler Jessiman
My body speaks to me in a language I am still learning We argue and cuss at each other But yet Fall back into the same pattern Of love Of peaceful mornings Blissfully unaware of the berating to Fall at our feet My body is a lover from a past life Whose story is elusive and We hold hands We drink wine We cry at the river because it must be so tired From always Running My body Is my home My apartment My church And everyday We learn a little more About how to worship each other
T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
FRINGE ARTS
31
The Patriarchy-Resisting Power of Female Punk DISHPIT uses music as empowerment in debut album
Stella Mazurek
“Music has this unique power to give voice to those who are silenced, and women have long been silenced.” — Sandi Curtis
It’s not every day that you witness two women in dominatrix outfits dress up their male drummer in a diaper and whip him while walking through their audience to circus music, as Nora Kelly and Jed Stein of DISHPIT once did at a concert. Montreal post-punk/grunge trio DISHPIT uses their moody, eccentric, and ferociously freaky sound to subvert a male-dominated industry and shine a light on the female experience. On March 12, after a long and complicated record label journey and nearly a year of COVID, DISHPIT released their debut album DIPSHIT. Although the pandemic has stifled the band’s ability to host concerts, the trio is finding new ways to empower through performance. The band, a trio of Concordia University alumni, is comprised of front-woman power-duo Nora Kelly and Jed Stein with Ethan Soil on drums. Lead vocalist Kelly writes the songs and plays guitar while Stein writes the bass lines and comes up with the backup vocals. Finished back in November 2019, DIPSHIT has been a long-awaited release for the band. After the rep of their first record label gradually stopped answering to any form of correspondence, supposedly vanishing off the face of the planet, DISHPIT had to wait for their contract to expire before being able to release their music legally. “It’s just been this sort of uphill battle for a long time, so it’s nice that the album is finally coming out and the rights of our music are back in our
hands,” said Kelly. “[We are] being these women who are bold and kinda crazy and take up a lot of space on stage and aren’t afraid to make mistakes and scream and be kind of uncensored in a field where more and more women are playing music,” explained Kelly. “It’s kind of exciting to be like these rocker dudes, but we’re women.” Because the music industry has historically been a male-dominated field, female singer-songwriters have continuously struggled to create music that speaks to them and isn’t influenced by or filtered through male standards. “Music has this unique power to give voice to those who are silenced, and women have long been silenced,” said Sandi Curtis, a professor emeritus at Concordia in music therapy. She is hopeful this is changing, however. “We are seeing more women singer-songwriters getting out there and adding their subversive voices against patriarchy,” she said. Influenced as teenagers by riot grrrl figures such as Kathleen Hannah of Bikini Kill, DISHPIT is currently inspired by bands such as The Breeders, Slint, and Modest Mouse. “[We’re] playing with the genre, not taking it too literally but having that attitude,” said Kelly. Punk aficionado Jeff Parkinson, who came across the band’s music via some early demos for DIPSHIT, has become a fan of the band and their vision. “I think they are kind of like the only band around that is doing music A P RIL 2021
32
THE LINK
building. “Even before the band was official, I would go to [Jed’s] room [...] [S]he was really good at guitar. It was kind of just like kindred spirits,” Kelly said of their early days as friends. The group began casually, without much intention, said Kelly, but they soon started playing house shows and small venues. Eventually,
Courtesy DISHPIT
like that now, no one else really has that kind of energy and aggression.” DISHPIT’s ability to weave the personal into activism sets the band apart. “They’re like little pop songs, but heavy pop songs, so they have like the grunge element to them but Nora is really good at the hook, so they’re all catchy, and I think that’s quite unique,” said longtime friend of the band and former collaborator Colin Spratt. “It’s slow then fast; ahh, it’s fantastic,” Spratt said. Self-trained musicians, the band often writes in odd time signatures, a characteristic that has become central to their sound. Nora and Jed met in their first year at Concordia within the stone walls and loft ceilings of the Grey Nuns T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
the band began to see the potential for something more serious. Kelly and Stein were quick to fall in love with performing live, their absurd energy and offbeat minds finding a home in the punk show scene. “Prior to the pandemic, we were always trying to come up with crazy stage antics and gimmicks,” Kelly said. During one Halloween show, Kelly performed with gushing blood capsules in her mouth and on other occasions there have been kazoo solos. Kelly explained that with COVID-19, the band has shifted to using music videos to achieve a similar sense of empowerment and catharsis. The video for “This Time,” the first song released off the album, aims to de-stigmatize the shame around talk-
ing about sexual assault and open up conversations about traumatic experiences. “I wanted this song to add kind of a voice to survivors of assault without it being too blatant or triggering, to try and have it be more in the abstract,” said Kelly. “The music video is supposed to have a sort of empowered undertone, where eventually we get on these motorcycles [...] and go off into the sunset.” “As important as the music is, I think the video is important too because sometimes women singer-songwriters have lyrics that are quite powerful, but [...] the video uses them as sort of eye-candy, objectifying the women and not empowering them,” said Curtis. This is because not only are the recording agents and producers primarily male but the music video directors and producers as well. The way Curtis sees it, it’s not that men in the music industry have the intention of preventing women from being heard, but more so that when they listen to music by other men, they can instantly relate. “[T]his understanding that we are each these static individual people that were always consistently the same is a fallacy,” said Kelly. “You could wake up one day and be in a terrible mood and do all sorts of things that you couldn’t have imagined you’d do the week before,” said Kelly. From a sleazy lady in the song “Trash Queen,” to an unstable hermit in “Plaza People,” to a money-centric valley girl in “Sold Out,” DIPSHIT is a rollercoaster of character portraits, explained Kelly. “You can listen to a song and it might be somebody else’s story, but maybe one line in that song resonates for you,” said Curtis. She explained that the power of words married to music affects people emotionally, physically, and cognitively all at the same time, rendering it an incredibly powerful medium. “Women can put their own stories into their own songs and then those are amplified by their listeners, their fans, as they hear their own stories that are very unique to themselves yet have some universal truths to women of all areas, all walks of life,” said Curtis.
NEWS
33
Resistance: A Kanien’kehá:ka Perspective What does resistance mean for the Kanien’kehá:ka Nation?
Kayla Moore Since the 17th century, the Kanien’kehá:ka have demonstrated their resilience and resistance towards settler efforts of colonization and assimilation. They have maintained sovereignty over themselves, and have resisted colonial efforts to gain control and assimilate by refusing settler systems and maintaining their own. “I like to think we have an uncolonized perspective of ourselves and that helps make us strong, and that’s how we fight against assimilation,” said Kenneth Deer, Mohawk (Kanien’kehá:ka) political activist, secretary of the Mohawk Nation at Kahnawake. “You have to believe in who you are. That you have fundamental inherent rights, and those rights are inalienable and no one can take those rights away from you.” The Kanien’kehá:ka have fought centuries of colonial violence and still demonstrate their resilience and resistance in the faces of colonial violence. Through these events the Kanien’kehá:ka have proven that they will not be submissive to colonial violence and assimilation attempts. “We [Indigenous Peoples] have a right to self-determination, and we exercise that here. This is our homeland and this is the only place in the world where we can exercise that,” said Deer. Mohawk Council of Kahnawake Chief Kahsennenhawe Sky-Deer said the Kanien’kehá:ka have always been able to communicate with their language, and this has given them the opportunity to preserve their traditional knowledge and history, thus helping them become more resilient and creating strength for resistance. “It’s a testament to our strength and our resilience, and being able to adapt in the face of adversity and our strength of character,” said SkyDeer. What might the future of Kanien’kehá:ka resistance look like for current and coming generations? “Well it’s been a constant for us to remember our original instructions from the creator,” said Sky-Deer. “This generation has the collective responsibility to ensure that our future generations have the same opportunities.”
Deer said that remembering to be true to the teachings is important for the Mohawk way of life, especially those from kaianere’kó:wa, or the Great Law of Peace, where peace, power, amd righteousness are the three most fundamental teachings. Resistance. Deer said that in order to keep the resilience and resistance strong among the Mohawk people that it is important that younger generations understand the struggle of protecting and preserving the culture, language, and traditions. He said that it is important to teach Mohawk youth that it is paramount to be resilient, watchful, and to continue the struggle because that’s how the Mohawk people and culture will survive in the future. “When there is an end to the struggle to save the [Mohawk] language, culture, and traditions, that’s when we give into assimilation,” said Deer. His advice to younger generations is “You have to resist assimilation. You have to keep your identity, your heritage, and your link to the land.” Graphic Joey Bruce
A P RIL 2021
34
THE LINK
Armenians at Arms: Uniting a Community Through Art ‘I do it because I’m proud of my ethnicity and cultural background, despite it’s painful history’
A.J. Salucci
T
solaire Mekhgeavakian is a Montreal-born artist concentrating her career on bringing awareness to the Armenian genocide. She is a fine arts education student and is teaching lessons in more ways than one. Growing up, she was always encouraged by her mother to pursue her interests in the arts. This relationship led her to establish her career in this multicultural city full of opportunity. The Armenian genocide began in 1915 and ended two years later, but Mekhgeavakian says that the effects are still felt to this day, especially since it is a genocide that is still unrecognized by its Turkish perpetrators. April 24 marks the Armenian Genocide Remembrance Day to commemorate the victims of the genocide. This tragedy has displaced families, subjugated them to cruel deaths. Armenian children were also stolen to be raised under Turkish families, which robbed them of their culture. Through this brief retelling of the past, Mekhgeavakian warns us of the present as she fears that current land disputes from Azerbaijan with Turkish involvement may cause history to repeat itself. “For a people who have previously lost their land and have lived under the threat of cultural extinction, the 2020 conflict was a small taste of what our Armenian ancestors went through during the 1915 genocide. It was also a key influence on the trajectory that The History of My Blood series took,” said Mekhgeavakian. Her current goal is a series of paintings titled The History of My Blood, which is intended to celebrate her culture and raise awareness of the violence her people faced years ago. “I’m creating this series for the purpose of using art to raise awareness and educate people on the consequences that come with belonging to a diasporic group, The History of My Blood painting by Tsolaire Mekhgeavtold through an Armenian lens. To me, the series is a visual akian, also known as PicaTso. Courtesy Tsolaire Mekhrepresentation of everything I have felt and experienced as geavakian T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
PROFILE
an Armenian born and living in Canada,” she said. Mekhgeavakian’s time participating in events organized by the Concordia’s Armenian Student Union had hosted her first exhibition in 2019. They featured The History of My Blood series and people were enthralled at the ability of one artist to be talented in many genres. “The series began with Unity as my final painting for class, where I attempted to make a self-portrait, whose facial details would only be discernable under drips of paint that were the colors of the Armenian flag, playing on the idea of invisible minorities,” she said. Mekhgeavakian says the art series opens the conversation about the lives of a people who experienced feelings of displacement, showing that they are not enduring their pain alone—which is timely considering the feeling of disconnectedness that the pandemic gives us. According to Mekhgeavakian, it is the first project of its significance in the Armenian community because of the art style and the perspective she has on the topic. Her goal is to finish it and exhibit it to as many people as she can in order to raise awareness of her people’s history. As for her art, she says “[she] still [has] a very long way to go,” which is why she is still hard at work continuing her paintings online. The uniting theme in The History of My Blood series intends to showcase the transformative pain of a diasporic community that attempts to overcome generational trauma and identity issues. The peace during quarantine has given Mekhgeavakian a lot of time to experiment and complete projects. This free time has allowed her to see that.“This is really just the beginning for me and I can’t wait to see what comes next,” she said. Trying to quantify her own experience as an artist, when it comes to being a student-teacher, she says she has found a nice balance between her academics and her jobs. She says she is excelling through her university program, that she is an active member of the Armenian community, and her activism is her art. “I do it because I’m proud of my ethnicity and cultural background, despite its painful history and the ensuing consequences that still affect the diaspora to this day.” Mekhgeavakian’s journey as an artist is all about embracing your identity, whether it is artistic, cultural or just a journey in self-discovery. A P RIL 2021
35
36
THE LINK
Resistance Is Draining Me What happens when something that’s meant to be temporary lasts a lifetime?
Fatima Dia
Y
ou know that feeling of absolute appreciation for nature you get when you come across a small marigold breaking from a crack in cement? The admiration you feel when you notice this flower growing through concrete with its delicate white petals reverberates in your own life as a poignant lesson: Resist. Persist. Grow despite the difficulties. Be beautiful and kind even if you’re stuck in concrete. When we think of resistance, our minds often land primarily on historical stances against corruption, oppression, invading countries. The literal fight for freedom. I asked on social media what resistance meant to some people. Here are some of the answers that stood out to me:
. . .. .. .
Not giving in to anything or anyone that tries to take away something you believe in Trying to hold a heavy door that’s gonna smash me anytime soon Surviving Vocation Thriving, proving to them you can resist by surviving Working everyday to shift your perspective and unlearn problematic thought patterns Believing in myself
Someone also mentioned electricity, and I found that a fitting metaphor: resistors take in the brunt of a charged current, they reduce its force so it’s not too much and whatever you’re charging doesn’t burn. This is the vitality of resistance, isn’t it? Resisting the realities of the world that overwhelm you, that might burn you. I have two problems with that. Firstly, it’s about survival, not really living. Secondly, it’s not enough. It’s a beautiful sentiment, to learn from that delicate marigold that there’s beauty within hardship. But what happens when there isn’t any? Hi, I’m Fatima, I’m Lebanese, and I think I gave up. To begin, it is indeed a truth universally acknowledged that 2020 was seriously fucked up. For the first half of the year, I was in Montreal, resisting the heaviness of the T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
Graphic Joey Bruce
P E R S O N A L E S S AY
pandemic, like all of you. I was resisting the crushing feeling of missing my family, my boyfriend, my home. The second half of the year, I went home to Lebanon—and I took on a different kind of resistance: I was trying, and failing, to resist the soul-destroying side-effect of loving a country that has been in self-destruct mode for over 30 years. Have you heard the term “Happiest depressed people in the world”? If you Google “Oct. 17 2019 Revolution Lebanon,” you would get thousands of pictures of smiling faces, people dancing dabke, flags, music, and a gigantic crowd shouting for a better Lebanon. Viva la Resistance! Except that this was a big fat bowl of denial wearing the mask of resistance. Because while thousands were indeed singing and dancing, the other half of the country was dying—and that was before the pandemic. That was before Aug. 4 and the port explosion that still haunts us. I survived that day, I wasn’t even physically hurt; resisting the effects of experiencing the blast should be second nature, no? I mean, we resist by surviving, right? We resist by smiling and living. Lebanon is known for a fantastic nightlife, beautiful scenery, amazing food, and a people that never tires of giving, but Lebanon is tired. After last year, after that explosion, after the epic economic downfall that led our currency to lose over 90 per cent of its value, we’re tired. Our politicians look more like an old couple bickering than a government responsible for almost seven million people in a small country with limited resources. Our people continue to be manipulated and divided based on imaginary protection from warlords who have safety nets abroad. The irony. The middle-class is effectively erased in Lebanon; there are no jobs, no opportunities, only an endless cycle of sucking the air straight out of our lungs and letting them suffer slowly. Those who are still privileged judge the ones going to the streets unmasked to protest “It’s as if there’s no COVID.” Can you imagine the level of desperation that drives you to rather die of a virus than hunger? Lebanon has been so devoid of choice that the only one some have is choosing how to die. Resistance is glorified. Resistance is romanticized.
37
Resistance is a privilege. Resistance is a two-faced b*tch that gives you the promise of taking the brunt of the charged current, but doesn’t tell you it’s not enough. I gave up. I left Lebanon. I couldn’t continue to take in the continuous flow of life-sucking energy that living in Lebanon throws your way, my resistors failed. I am so, so lucky that my parents left before this year: that was why I was able to leave—I had an out. I was born in Brazil and I had an easy out. And even I failed to resist. Some of my family members and friends who still live there tell me: “what can we do? We have to focus on the glass half-full.” They focus on the roof over their heads, the food on their table, and the air in their lungs because others in the country don’t have any of that. The truth is the only way to resist the bleakness of living in Lebanon right now is denial. You focus so intently on the glass half full you deny the existence of the empty half. You deny how the water continues to spill out, because otherwise, what happens? I have seen with my own eyes a man light himself on fire. “Trying to hold a heavy door that’s going to smash me anytime soon,” my friend said. Anytime soon. When we think of resistance we often tend to think of historical moments, right? That’s just it; they were moments, not a lifetime. Movements and revolutions that incited real change. Resistance is meant to be temporary. I’ve lived in Montreal, Barcelona, Madrid, Brazil, but I always went back to Lebanon. It was my home and I lost it. As I write this, I’m sitting on the small balcony outside my mother’s room, surrounded by her flowers. When we hear airplanes, we duck, then we laugh about it, and then we try not to cry. I want to tell my people I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I couldn’t help. The only resistance I can take on right now is resisting the blackhole that is guilt. I want to see a better future for my country, I want to offer words of hope, but I can’t. I left. I don’t know what else to tell my people. That little flower growing through concrete, that tree root that breaks the ground, the green-covered walls in old places, nature… how do you do it? A P RIL 2021
38
THE LINK
Masthead
Marcus Bankuti Nanor Froundjian OPEN Alexandre Denis Sheena Macmillan Elias Grigoriadis Ray Resvick Olivier Neven Michelle Malnasi Mzwandile Poncana Esteban Cuevas Nicholas Dundorf Joey Bruce Rachel Boucher Jaime MacLean
editor-in-chief creative director coordinating editor features editor co-news editor co-news editor fringe arts editor sports editor opinions editor copy editor photo editor video editor graphics editor business manager system administrator
Contributors
Board of Directors
Zakiyyah Boucaud Sophie Dufresne Evan Lindsay Parker Sherry Kalden Rangdrol Dhatsenpa Megan Sicard Ashley Fish-Robertson Brogan Romano Kayla Moore A.J. Salucci
Caroline Marsh Florent Aniorte Fatima Dia Stella Mazurek Camila Colmenares Ibrahim Mahmoud Léa Beaulieu-Kratchanov Philippe Champagne Maria Chabelnik
Cover
Joey Bruce
House ad
Rachel Boucher
Savannah Stewart Olivier Cadotte
Laura Beeston Rachel Boucher Marcus Bankuti Michelle Pucci
Voting Members
Non-Voting Members
The Link is published four times during the academic year by The Link Publication Society Inc. Content is independent of the university and student associations (ECA, CASA, ASFA, FASA, CSU, AVEQ). Editorial policy is set by an elected board as provided for in The Link’s constitution. Any student is welcome to work on The Link and become a voting staff member. Material appearing in The Link may not be reproduced without prior written permission from The Link. Letters to the editor are welcome. All letters 400 words or less will be published, space permitting. The letters deadline is Fridays at 4:00 p.m. The Link reserves the right toedit letters for clarity and length and refuse those deemed racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, libellous, or otherwise contrary to The Link ’s statement of principles. The Link acknowledges our location on unceded Indigenous land. The Kanien’kehá:ka Nation is recognized as the custodians of these lands and waters. Tiohtiá:ke is historically known as a gathering place for many First Nations. T HEL INK NE W SPA P ER .C A
Volume 41, Issue 5 April 2021 The Link office: Concordia University Hall Building, Room H-580-3 and H-511 1455 de Maisonneuve Blvd. W. Montreal, Quebec H3G 1M8 Editor: 514-848-2424 x. 7407 Arts: 514-848-2424 x. 5813 News: 514-848-2424 x. 8682 Business: 514-848-7406
Resistance Resistance Resistance Res ance Resistance Resistance R
sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R sistance Resistance Resistan Resistance Resistance Resi ance Resistance Resistance R . . . is not futile.
THE
our magazine will be back SePTember 7, 2021
Advertise With Us 514-848-7406
ads@thelinknewspaper.ca
