Volume 43, Issue 6

Volume 43, Issue 6 • November 8, 2022 • thelinknewspaper.ca "Eating Sushi Over the Archives" Since 1980

CONC

TION SINCE 1980

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

News Backed Into a Corner P. 9

Fringe Arts Poetry: My Egg Timer Lover P. 11

Opinions Concordia Left Me Stranded P. 15

Sports Q&A With a Paralympian P. 14

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NEWS

3

Multiple Break-Ins at Concordia’s Annexes Organization Members Whose Spaces Were Raided Frustrated at Improper Security Measures Iness Rifay PHOTO IVAN DE JACQUELIN

C

oncordia University’s PR, V and Z annex buildings were broken into on Oct. 14, 15 and 18.

The Teaching and Research Assistants at Concordia Union was the most affected, as its office in the PR annex was subject to two different break-ins—the first on Oct. 14 and the second on Oct.18.

After being notified of the Oct. 14 Friday night break-in, the union’s mobilization officer entered the office the following morning.

They observed “significant damage to the front door and the second door inside,” according to TRAC Vice-President Becca Wilgosh.

“We noticed our speakers were

missing,” Wilgosh said. “They were about a thousand dollars.”

Campus security was promptly alerted.

On the afternoon of Oct. 15, the alarm at the Center for Gender Advocacy’s office in the V annex went off. According to a CGA spokesperson, members of the association showed up on Oct. 17 to assess damages. The door frame to the office had some minimal damage, but the organization lost an undisclosed sum of money left in the space.

The spokesperson added that “security put in some recommendations on different kinds of safes and alarms” and that “[security

guards] were very responsive.”

On the evening of Oct. 18, members of TRAC were headed back to their office and saw that “things had been moved,” according to Wilgosh. Upon entering and heading to the second room of the space, where the union’s safe is kept, she said “we noticed it had been noticeably pried open.

We could tell they got a look of the inside. Once they realized we didn’t have any money in it, they left our stored documents alone.”

Security was alerted once more. “We’re a bit frustrated that it happened a second time,” Wilgosh said. “We would’ve expected

[security] to secure the area after it first happened. It’s a bit alarming to know that they were able to get in again, with the time and tools to also break into our safe.”

“It feels like this is out of our hands and up to Concordia to secure our space,” added the vice-president.

“They don’t have a great history of being reliable when it comes to that.”

All valuables were removed

by TRAC members and the office was left vacant for some time after the break-in, as it was deemed “not yet safe.” The union had allegedly met with Concordia later in the week of Oct. 22 to discuss the university’s mandate to pro-

vide it with a secure space.

Having to carry around their office valuables and be weary of their space’s safety is “mentally distracting,” and “taking away time and energy [that TRAC] would put into serving its members and running the union”, Wilgosh added.

According to Concordia Spokesperson Vannina Maestracci, the university has initiated an investigation with the police and has advised annex occupants to “avoid holding money there, keep valuables out of sight and secured, and call campus security if they notice anything or anyone that appears suspicious.”

RBC: Off Our Campuses Wet’suwet’en Nation Allies Protest Against RBC Coastal Gaslink Funding Iness Rifay

O

n Nov. 5, approximately 100 protesters protested in front of the McGill University RBC On-Campus bank.

Organized by the Decolonial Solidarity group, participants marched towards the Concordia On-Campus bank where speakers shared their allyship with the Wet’suwet’en nation. Attendants were invited to boycott the bank and to chant in support of the protestors in British Columbia.

On Sept. 18, the Coastal Gaslink pipeline, a project largely protested across Canada for its transgression into unceded Indigenous lands, was ready to begin drilling under the Wedzin Kwa (Morice River). A few days later, the drilling reportedly begun.

This river is a precious source of food and fresh water to the Wet’suwet’en nation. RBC has act-

ively participated in its funding, providing a loan of over six billion dollars to TC Energy Corp, the company overseeing the project.

“You can hear the drill from miles away,” says Henri-François Girard, a member of the Decolonial Solidarity group. “It literally shakes the earth. I feel like we’re in a fantasy novel: the contrast between the generally pacifist people that live there and this gigantic corporation attacking them.”

The Montreal protest was one of many organized simultaneously around the country on the same day. Demonstrations denouncing RBC took place in Toronto, Edmonton, Victoriaville, Ottawa and other cities.

“I am baffled that despite the Canadian Supreme Court decisions, despite the British Columbia provincial legislation regard-

ing the environment, despite the United Nations’ Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples, the RBC continues to fund a Coastal Gaslink against the protests of the Wet’suwet’en hereditary chiefs,” said Sepi, a member of the Quit RBC group who also participated in the event. “It’s completely unacceptable.”

According to the Coastal Gaslink website, the project “values the culture, lands and traditions of Indigenous groups,” and it shares “strong relationships with local and Indigenous communities.”

“I would like everyone to inform themselves on the difference between elected chiefs and hereditary chiefs, because banks and media use it to confuse people and hide the real stakes,” Sepi said.

Elected chiefs are members of the community that are voted

on every two years. This electoral system was put in place by the Indian Act as a way for colonizers to replace the Indigenous system with their own. Their power can only be exercised over the reserve.

Hereditary chief positions are passed down through generations following the matriarchal line.

The primary duty of the hereditary chief is to protect their territory and their people.

On their way down Guy St., the crowd chanted “Water is life!” and “Solidarité avec les Wet’suwet’en!” Some time after arriving at the Concordia RBC On-Campus bank, more protesters turned up with music equipment to play loud sounds in hopes to disrupt activity inside the bank and discourage passersby from entering.

Emilie Cantin, a protester and a literature teacher at the

Marie-Victorin CÉGEP shared that she has long been touched by the Wet’suwet’en cause.

“I simply responded to a call by the Wet’suwet’en. […] My brother is in Victoriaville right now, protesting as well,” Cantin said.

Over the last three years, protestors in B.C. have organized multiple blockades on the route of the Coastal Gaslink. The results of these protests have been several interventions from the RCMP, including arrests of journalists and demonstrators.

“By doing this, the big capital aims to crush us,” said Cantin.

“It’s worth noting that throughout history, everything that has ever changed was the product of passionate, outraged people.”

PHOTO DIANE YEUNG

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

NEWS

4

wwwwww

Anti-Black Racism at Concordia: 53 Years of Inaction University Apologizes for 1969 Computer Centre Protests Zachary Fortier

T

he President’s Task Force on Anti-Black Racism published its final report on Oct. 28, two years after the project first began.

The first of its 88 recommendations mandated the university apologize to every student and community member who was involved in the 1969 computer centre protests. It was one of the most violent events in Concordia’s history.

Concordia President Graham Carr issued a public apology in front of a crowd of Black community members and former students who lived through the protests. Carr apologized “for the harm that was caused to Black students at the university and for the negative impact felt

by Black communities in Montreal and beyond.”

“It should not have taken more than fifty years to acknowledge the wrongs leading up to, and in, 1969,” Carr told the audi-

ence. “Now we begin the hard work of delivering on these recommendations and strengthening our relationships with Black communities, on campus and in Montreal.”

The 1969 computer centre occupation, commonly referred to as the “Computer Riot,” shook the foundations of Sir George Williams University and placed systemic racism in academia under a global spotlight.

Two students involved in the protests, Rodney John and Lynne Murray, were present for the apology. They thanked the administration for recognizing and apologizing for the pain inflicted on hundreds of Black students and allies a half-century later.

The origins of the protest movement were planted when a dozen Black and Caribbean students, including John, accused racist professor Perry Anderson of systematically lowering their grades. “It’s always ‘six students,’”

Concordia Students occupied the Hall building for nearly two weeks, from Jan. 29 to Feb. 11, 1969, to protest racist professor Perry Anderson.

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

John told the audience. “We were more like 12 or 13,” he said, correcting the common narrative.

John stated he was consistently at the top of his class, acing assignments left and right. He explained that when Anderson became his professor in the academic year of 1967-1968, something changed.

Along with his fellow dozen classmates, he noticed the professor was docking points because he had a bias against West Indian students.

Recalling events that unfolded in a physiology class, John shared the experiences of fellow Black classmate Terrence Ballantyne. “He hands in the lab, Anderson marks the lab and gives him seven out of 10,” John said. “His [white lab] partner copies Terrence’s lab—He even copied the few grammatical errors Terrence had made.”

When Ballantyne’s partner received his identical lab report back from Anderson—which was nonetheless handed in late—the white student received nine out of 10 marks. “It’s not only that our work was judged inferior to that of white students, but that we were a priori judged not worthy of the marks we had acquired,” John said.

When Black students met with administration officials, their experiences were sidelined. Dean McLeod, chair of the biology department, defended the member of his faculty, and paid no heed to the students’ complaints.

“We were identified in the news media as Black students who could not make the grade,” John said. The university’s support for the professor and his racial bias were a catalyst for the computer centre protests in 1969.

Following a growing list of injustices against Black students at Sir George Williams University, a group of around 400 students blockaded themselves in the university’s computer centre on the ninth floor of the Hall building.

Lynne Murray was amongst those peacefully protesting the blatant racism in the university.

After a week of the occupation during the first week of February 1969, the university agreed to the

Protesters threw data cards from the Hall building's ninth-floor Computer Centre on Feb. 11, 1969

students’ demands. The majority of students went home afterwards, but some remained. The university soon called the police on protesters.

“Feb. 11, 1969 was a dark day in the history of Montreal,” Murray said. Ninety-seven students were arrested, 42 of whom were Black. She recalled being beaten and tortured by the police. “Students were forced to lay down on broken glass on the floor and were beaten with clubs,” she said.

Murray was arrested by the Montreal police and jailed for several weeks. After being bailed out by her family, she accepted a plea deal and paid a fine for participating in social justice and anti-racist action.

Amid the violence unleashed on Black protesters, Coralee Hutchison, an 18-year-old from the Bahamas, received head trauma inflicted

by the police. “She suffered a brain aneurysm and died shortly after.

Her parents believe it was because of the beating she received that day,” Murray said. Concordia’s apology did not mention this potential connection to Hutchison’s death.

“We suffered humiliation and shame, the indignity and painful scorn of family and friends. We were incarcerated and branded as criminals,” Murray said.

“And why? Because we protested against the racist actions of professor Perry Anderson.”

Murray criticized the university’s “deliberate misrepresentation and indifference,” but remained thankful an apology was finally issued 53 years later. She took time to highlight the successes of many of her fellow protesters in the years following the movement, including Canadian Senator Anne Cools

Ninety-seven people were arrested for occupying Concordia's Computer Center.

NEWS and President of Dominica Roosevelt Douglas.

Additionally, Murray spoke on the importance of following through with the Task Force.

“These plans you share with us today must be implemented and fully executed, and publicly demonstrated,” she said.

The 97-page Task Force report was broken up into four categories: Driving Institutional Change, Fostering Black Flourishing, Supporting Black Knowledges and Encouraging Mutuality. In total, 88 recommendations were proposed.

Angélique Willkie, associate professor of contemporary dance at Concordia and chair of the Task Force, spoke to The Link about the process behind the report.

“It has been a colossal amount of work. I am extremely proud of the work that has been accomplished over the past two years, and the collective knowledge that has emerged. I am honoured and humbled,” she said.

Willkie said her humility towards such a project stems from the deep physical and emotional labour needed to create and implement the recommendations of the Task Force. “It’s not about saying ‘ look, we’ve done this.’ Yes, we’ve done this, but the implementation is more important.”

Implementing the work accomplished by the Task Force will require time, patience, perseverance and conviction, Willkie said.

“I am aware of the moment of euphoria, and the work there is left to do beyond that.”

Atop the list of recommendations was the apology for the university’s mishandling of Black protesters in 1969. Willkie said addressing it was a necessary step.

“Student voices were not heard; they were not considered legitimate. That is the reason the apology needs to be there,” she said. “It’s the reason we need to think about what took place in ‘69 and help us situate what has taken place, look at the silence, and address where we go, acknowledging that history.”

“What’s important is how that incident needs to inform the way we look at the 50 years of silence,” Willkie said. Her journey with the Task Force began in 2020, following the Concordia community’s demands to the administration for action on anti-Black racism.

From the beginning of the process, Willkie said her goal was to bring forth concrete solutions rather than mere proposals. “We didn’t want to come out with an idea of what should happen, we wanted to come out with ‘here’s what we do.’ On top of all the consultations, there have been regular and intensive exchanges with university units and sectors,” she said.

Willkie believed that breaking down the recommendations into

achievable, identifiable and specific formats, the university’s administrative body will be able to implement the changes successfully.

In front of the audience on Oct. 28, Concordia Provost Anne Whitelaw shocked many in attendance. “The university will implement all the recommendations included in the report,” she said. The room broke out into thunderous applause.

“This report provides a roadmap for how to make the university more welcoming, more just, and overall, a better place,” Whitelaw said. “Some of the recommended measures are currently being realized, or will start being realized shortly. Others require more time, coordination between units and funding.”

Some of the recommendations include the creation of a Black student resource centre, academic support, awards, bursaries and career advising. Additionally, the university will hire a Black faculty member to lead the development of Black and diaspora studies in the Canadian context, an important step in the creation of a Black Studies program.

Concordia also committed to increasing diversity within faculty, ensuring more tenure-track positions for Black professors in a multitude of disciplines. Additional resources will be invested to assure representation in STEM fields.

Whitelaw also announced Willkie would be continuing in her position as special advisor to the provost on Black integration and knowledges. Implicit bias training and anti-racism modules will also be produced for faculty and senior administration officials.

The most pressing section of recommendations, under the category Driving Institutional Change, included installing a plaque in Hall commemorating 1969 and renaming parts of the university whose current names evoke Concordia’s anti-Black and colonial legacy. The renaming commitments will be done by 2024 for the university’s 50th anniversary.

As the university takes on such an in-depth, systemic project, questions about implementation and accountability remain unanswered for several Black students. Amaria Phillips, co-founder of Concordia’s Black Student Union, spoke to The Link about her commendations and concerns.

“My fear is that this might only be performative,” Phillips said.

“Making sure that after the Task Force’s mandate is done and that the actions follow through is so important. Having conversations with the dean made [the administration] realize we are tired.”

Phillips was involved in several focus groups, roundtables and discussions where the Task

5

“Students were forced to lay down on broken glass on the floor and were beaten with clubs.”

— Lynne Murray Force sought student input. She was glad to give her feedback, but remains skeptical that Concordia will hold itself to task in delivering these recommendations.

One of the main goals of the BSU, Phillips explained, is to apply pressure on the university administration externally, focusing on Black students’ needs. “That’s something BSU will continue to do—making sure we’re listening to other students and keeping our foot on [the administration’s] necks to get the work done.”

While Phillips admired Whitelaw’s commitment to realizing every single recommendation in the Task Force, she questioned Concordia’s ability to do so. “The university probably has good intentions and will try as best as they can, but a lot of us are side-eyeing them.

Racism is not new in this school.

They just apologized for something that happened 50 years ago.”

“The Black Concordia community is tired of empty promises,” Phillips said. “When we see it, we’ll believe it.”

As smoke emerged from the Computer Centre, students smashed windows to get fresh air. Police officers later forced them to lay on broken glass.

Print-out paper and data cards cover Mackay street outside of the Hall building.

PHOTO - THE GEORGIAN & THE LINK ARCHIVES

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

6

FRINGE ARTS

Coffee or Tea? They’re Both Bitter!

Promising On Browsing Turns Out Petulant Mariana Chajon Oliveros

W

hen I read the back cover of Jason Guriel’s On Browsing, profound excitement filled me.

As someone with a deep appreciation for physical experiences, small treasures, and the texture of book pages and CD booklets, I was eager to read a work elegizing them. However, after flipping through the first few pages, red flags clouded my vision.

Guriel’s book works like an essay. It is a mix of nostalgic recollections of stores that are no more, and how special they were, and bitter complaints on the state of the media market. He talks about online shopping, malls, his father, and his twenties.

Subtle misogyny, classism, bitterness towards youth, and elitist pretentiousness pop out in almost every page of this book.

Guriel mentions an employee at one of the stores he used to visit who suggests a book to him.

He then writes, “She gave off the vibe of a mostly reformed goth

[...] I immediately decided she was childless, a serious reader, trustworthy and very cool.” To equate a childless woman with cool, to decide who she is from a first meeting, to romanticize her person, there are so many layers to unpack from this quotation that I unfortunately can’t get into it, but you get the idea of Guriel’s attitude towards women. He later refers to this same employee as “the ex-Goth angel.” I wrote “EW” in the margins.

Conversely, when describing an ex-employee of a CD store, who is a man, Guriel puts considerable effort into reading old newspaper articles to find the man’s name. “I never learned his name, but he surfaced in the media stories about the end of Soundscapes as one Phil Liberbaum,” Guriel writes. Why couldn’t Liberbaum be an ex-DJ ghost?

This is only one of many passages I found exasperating to read. It only took 25 pages for me to contemplate not finishing it.

Almost exactly like browsing shelves for a good book, there are certain paragraphs to be found in On Browsing that do feel special.

For example, his nostalgic recollection of hitting the town with his friends: “We needed that long subway trip downtown. [...]. We needed the sobering disappointments and the sporadic victories.

We needed the longueurs that new technology seeks to close, as if abolishing boredom ever does anyone a favour.”

This passage describes my favorite activity perfectly. I love making the trek Downtown from my home on the South Shore of Montreal. I love going to used book stores and thrift stores.

Sometimes I find gems I stare at every time I look at my bookshelf, like a collection of letters of Vita Sackville West to Virginia Woolf.

Sometimes, I am confronted with forgettable, uninteresting books.

Guriel’s writing felt personal to me, though I am sure it might have

the same effect on someone living on the other side of the planet.

The thing that makes physical browsing much more engaging than online shopping is the cognitive aspect of it. This is something I found lacking in Guriel’s essay. He doesn’t dive deep into why browsing is so special, why it feels so tied to our core sense of self. It is because stimulants to our five senses make everything more memorable, meaningful, and formative.

But Guriel is too busy explaining that by using the word roam, he doesn’t mean “the thing your smartphone does”—as if anyone would need to explain that.

Most of all, Guriel seems to believe in an incapacity of people younger than 30 to appreciate a store. Yes, the problems of gentrification and Amazon monopolizing almost every market are terrifying, but the fault is not in Gen-Z-ers. I, for one, have a CD collection, a book collection and a small DVD collection. My film-fanatic friends own trunks of DVDs and Blu-rays. I have a friend whose shelves contain more manga than any given In-

digo store probably has. The problem is not with consumers of any age, but with the corporations that become powerful enough to determine the market.

Guriel totally misses this point, and scapegoats an entire generation in the process.

On Browsing was published this Fall by Biblioasis, and is a part of their Field Notes series.

COURTESY BIBLIOASIS

Cabaret Meets Folk in Summersett’s “I Accept” Legend of Zelda Voice Actress Releases Single Ahead of 2023 Album Kathleen Champoux

M

ontreal art folk band Summerset released their new single and “I Accept” and an accompanying music video on Nov. 4. The band launched their new song at the MainLine theater where they performed alongside burlesque and roller dancing acts.

Summersett is the brainchild of Nick Carpenter and Patricia Summersett. Releasing their first album in 2015, the duo often play with an orchestra and accompanying band.

“I Accept” preceeds their second album Friends at the End of the House to be released in winter 2023.

The duo work outside of music as well. Summersett is an (stage) actor and voice actor, she is widely known for being the voice of Princess Zelda in the Legends of Zelda franchise. Carpenter has worked in theater and teaching, even teaching some theater writing classes at Concordia.

“At root we feel that we’re a folk band, but we draw from so many traditions of music,” said Carpenter. The band label themselves art folk to express their stylistic combination of cabaret, folk and string music.

“I Accept” has been years in the making. According to Carpenter, the song has been in the works since 2017.

When discussing how the song came into being, Carpenter offered up this insight into their

“I Accept” specifically blends folk and cabaret. Carpenter described the song as having “the cabaret vibe [being] alive and well and contrasted in the bridge with more folk and blended together in the final chorus.”

COURTESY SUMMERSETT

songwriting: “Patricia and I are collaborators, but one of us usually has the brainchild of the song. This one initially came from me.” The song itself explores themes of acceptance and how far someone will go before they can no longer bear the hardships of life and love.

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

According to Carpenter, what made this song special was how much the whole band worked together to give it life. He said the band relocated to an isolated cabin and that this helped everyone contribute to one of Summersett’s most creative songwriting sessions yet.

The music video for “I Accept” was also released on Nov. 4.

Directed by Caitlyn Sponheimer, it’s set in a world without water.

Kayleigh Choiniere, the costume designer and one of the dancers in the video, sought to capture a vintage apocalyptic vision for the video. Sponheimer said they wanted to “contrast bright yellow with the dark undertones of the video.”

Sponheimer described the video as a passion project, and said it was a joint vision between herself and Patricia Summersett. The band struggled to settle on a concrete set of imagery for both the song and music video. According to Patricia Summersett, the concept of a “dark humor cabaret,” was eventually embraced by the entire band. When Sponheimer told Choiniere about the idea of putting synchronized swimmers in a world without water, the visual ideas started to flow.

The video is a commentary on climate change and how long people will continue to accept it without taking action. “Once we got to climate change,” said Sponheimer, “we started to play around

with that and go outside the box.”

The team who worked on the video took great efforts to make it look appealing while caring for the environment. “We tried to do a green set, keep it as low waste as possible,” added Summersett.

Carpenter recounted an incident during the shoot where prop bottles filled with pink liquid were spilled. She explained the liquid spread all over the floor of the set, and that the crew acted quickly to turn an accident into an impromptu addition to the video. “It ended up being a really stunning shot,” said Carpenter.

“We were debating what to release as a single, the music video is what made that decision,” confessed Patricia Summersett. She added that the song and the video go closely hand in hand, forming a vision of who the band is.

“This is a very interesting part of a much larger piece,” said Patricia Summersett. “We are looking forward to the next step beyond this.” “I Accept” will appear on Sumersett’s upcoming album Friends at the End of the House in winter 2023.

8

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

EDITORIAL: Disability is not a Dirty Word T

he Disability Issue aims to reclaim the word “disabled” and unpack the stigma surrounding disability. Although this special issue wishes to highlight the successes and achievements of disabled artists and activists, it also hopes to shed light on the barriers and systemic ableism the disabled community faces in Quebec.

According to a report by the Canadian Human Rights Commision, between 20 and 30 per cent of non-disabled people in Canada have a post-secondary education.

This percentage is less than 15 for the disabled population.

According to the Council of Canadians with Disabilities, disabled Canadians are twice as likely to live in poverty as non-disabled Canadians. Despite having the lowest disability rate nationwide, at ten per cent of the total population, Quebec has the highest ratio of disabled people living below the poverty line, at 32 per cent. Comparatively, only 12 per cent of the non-disabled population in Quebec lives in poverty.

These statistics don't only boil down to lack of accessibility in the private sector. The maximum monthly amount disabled Quebecers are entitled to from the provincial government’s disability pension is $1,463.83, a sum woefully inadequate to cover average costs of living for a single person.

Even disabled children are subject to unequal opportunities when compared to non-disabled children. For example, in the past two summers, lack of government funding for kids with special needs led to summer camps being forced to reject applications from such families.

These are just a few examples of systemic barriers that create inequalities between disabled and non-disabled individuals, which start in childhood and persist throughout their lives. In other words, the lack of funding from governments towards services for disabled people is systemic ableism. Ableism is ingrained in our institutions and seeps into establishments like Concordia.

Time after time, Concordia excused their wheelchair-inaccessible buildings by claiming that since they were built centuries ago, renovation is allegedly impossible. Yet a wheelchair ramp should not be difficult to add next to staircases.

In a survey conducted by Concordia’s Working Group on Equity, Diversity and Inclusion in October 2019, students, faculty and staff were asked to assess a variety of statements about equity in the university. Of the 16 statements, the lowest agreed-upon statement was that Concordia was adequately physically accessible.

The second-lowest agreed-upon statement was that everyone had a fair access to opportunities in the university.

The clear existence of ableism at Concordia is shown by how little the administration is willing to invest in increasing the university’s accessibility. In fact, Concordia’s main resource for disabled students, the infamous Access Centre for Students with Disabilities, is chronically underfunded and understaffed.

In an interview with The Link, Concordia Provost Anne Whitelaw admitted that the administration doesn’t provide enough resources to its crumbling ACSD. This means that the administrators are aware of the barriers that exist for disabled students within the university, but don't care enough about their education to increase funding for the resources they need to succeed academically.

From losing exam copies to refusing to accommodate students, the ACSD has been a failure to Concordia’s pledge to EDI. The Link calls on Concordia’s administration to address the existence of systemic ableism within the institution and to eliminate the barriers disabled students face when obtaining a higher education.

PHOTO IVAN DE JACQUELIN

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

9

Backed Into a Corner The Consequences of Medical Suicide Expansion on the Disabled Community Olivia Integlia

“I

f the choice came down to being dead or being homeless, I would choose to be dead every day of the week,” said Amir Farsoud, a 54-year-old man from St. Catharines, Ontario. He submitted a request for medical assistance in dying in October 2022.

Following a childhood back injury, Farsoud has dealt with spinal stenosis, degenerative disc disease and osteoarthritis. Over decades, other health issues arose, he explained. He also deals with chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, severe asthma, a weak heart and is currently in a pre-diabetic range because of the inability to afford a healthy diet.

Though he had considered medical suicide ever since Canada legalized the procedure in 2016, his decision to apply for MAID was accelerated after he realized he would no longer be able to afford his medical bills or his rent once his lease expired.

Farsoud criticized the government for a lack of financial help. “The fact that I [applied for MAID] now, as opposed to 15 years from now, is because both the federal and provincial government […] seem to think that disabled people aren’t people.”

At the beginning of the pandemic, the Canadian government gave a one-time payment of up to $600 to disabled individuals to help those living with disabilities. For Farsoud, this one-time payment is by no means enough to live a dignified life. He pointed to the Canada Emergency Response Benefit to illustrate his point. CERB provided working Canadians with $2000 a month during the pandemic.

Meanwhile, individuals unable to work due to disability make significantly less. At the federal level, individuals with disabilities may also qualify for a registered disability savings plan, receiving a maximum of $3,500 per year.

Meanwhile, provincial disability insurance has not been much help either, said Farsoud. “The conditions that the average person on disability, regardless of province, are conditions that would sicken the average Canadian.” For instance, in the Quebec Pension Plan, people under the age of 65 with permanent disabilities may receive a fixed amount of $524.61 per month, with an additional amount depending on the individual’s former employment earnings.

Given his reality, and having previously faced in his youth, Farsoud felt like MAID was his only dignified option. “The dignity that you refuse to give me in life, perhaps you will be kind enough to give it to me in death,” he said.

Previously, people with disabilities were ineligible for MAID. Bill C-7 changed that. Farsoud qualified for MAID as a result. In March 2021, the Canadian Senate expanded the eligibility criteria by removing the requirement that MAID recipients be “in an imminent death situation,” said disability activist and Concordia graduate Alicia-Ann Pauld.

As of the change, anyone eligible for free healthcare in Canada over the age of 18, who is mentally apt—meaning you are “capable of making health care decisions for yourself ”—and suffering from a “grievous and irremediable medical condition” can apply.

The remaing condition is that the person in question is not being pressured by external factors and has given informed consent.

In 2017, Pauld was diagnosed with muscular dystrophy, a progressive disability that affects mobility. Because of Bill C-7, she is now eligible for assisted suicide.

In Quebec, there are several steps patients must take when applying for MAID. Rosangela Chiarappa, psychologist in the oncology and chronic illnesses departments at Santa Cabrini hospital, provided insight into the process.

First, the patient must make a written request with a witness present. Afterwards, the request is evaluated by two independent, unbiased doctors, Chiarappa explained. The assessment process takes at least 90 days.

As a member of the Groupe interdisciplinaire de soutien, a group of specialists offering support to medical professionals receiving demands and evaluating complex cases, Chiarappa described how this assessment takes place. “We really want to see where the request is coming from,” she said.

Many questions are asked at this stage. “Is the person being intimidated in any way to make this choice? Is the decision coming from them, or is there pressure from outside sources?” Such external factors can include family pressure, feeling like a burden, mental health struggles and financial difficulties, among others, Chiarappa said.

During this period, patients must be informed of their alternative options, Chiarappa added. After the assessment is over, MAID can legally be administered. However, “up until the last minute, [patients] can change their mind,” she stressed.

The current-day struggles facing disabled communities offer insight into the impact of Bill C-7.

The Canadian Survey on Disability found that 6.2 million Canadians above the age of 15 suffer from at least one disability.

Moreover, since Bill C-7’s

were on the rise because the disabled community is being pushed by the government to opt for MAID for the wrong reasons, namely inaccessibility and financial difficulties.

The MAID expansion is a quick fix to help the government save money, Pauld claimed. Even before Bill C-7 was enacted, a report done by the Canadian Medical Association Journal in 2017 discovered that medically assisted suicide reportedly saves between $34.7 million and $136.8 million annually in the Canadian health-

GRAPHIC MYRIAM OUAZZANI

introduction, Chiarappa has noticed a spike in MAID requests.

MAID deaths in 2021 have increased by 32.4 per cent from the previous year. Quebec reported 3,281 deaths last year alone—the highest across all provinces.

As MAID requests rise, cases like Farsoud’s risk becoming more frequent. His hidden intentions for applying for MAID fell right through the cracks.

Opponents of the law have claimed that Bill C-7 is undeniably a response to the financial strain the disabled community puts on federal and provincial governments. “This is a money thing—its flat-out eugenics,” argued Pauld.

“It’s killing the people at the bottom to reinvest money in the people at the top.”

Pauld undoubtedly believes “that passing Bill C-7 was a mistake.” She also suggested cases

care system. It is unclear how much has been saved since the bill was passed.

Advocates for Bill C-7, such as Dying With Dignity, an organization promoting MAID, continue to welcome Bill C-7 with “relief and gratitude,” believing it provides the opportunity for disabled individuals to stop suffering and die “a peaceful death.”

Despite refusing an interview, Sarah Dobec, communications specialist for DWD, stated in an email to The Link that patients “cannot be approved for MAID because of a lack of social supports,” emphasizing “the rigorous criteria” they must fill. Yet, testimonies of members of the disabled community prove otherwise.

For instance, the clogged healthcare system makes it difficult for community members to access resources and safe housing, Pauld said. She recounted one instance

in particular where she had made a request to install grab bars in her shower. The wait time shocked her. Facing the likelihood of being unable to shower for an estimated two months, she opted to have a private company install them—a service which can cost several hundreds of dollars.

Pauld also pointed to the long wait times to be seen by a doctor. A study conducted by the Canadian Family Physician group has found Quebecers wait for an average of 14.8 weeks to be seen by a specialist.

Once disabled individuals have their accessibility needs filled, another problem comes up—costs.

The disabled community is still disproportionately affected by poverty.

Statistics Canada found that 23 per cent of disabled people lived below the poverty line, compared to nine per cent of those living without a disability. Meanwhile, 1.6 million disabled Canadians cannot afford “required aids, devices or prescription medications.”

People like Farsoud are consistently let down by the government and can only hope for miracles. Luckily for him, he was granted one. Upon sending a thank you to Ontario Member of Provincial Parliament Chris Glover for his work advocating to increase the Ontario Disability Support Program, his situation changed. Glover went to meet Farsoud, paid for his medication and ensured his story was shared in media outets.

Once Farsoud’s story broke, an anonymous donor made a GoFundMe page for Farsoud, where his cause has currently amassed over $60,000. He has since stopped his MAID request.

“I think when it comes to the disabled, the reason why more isn’t done isn’t the lack of will, but it is the lack of knowledge,” he said.

As more cases like those of Farsoud and Pauld arise, the lack of resources facing the community becomes more apparent, pressuring the government to act.

Chiarappa believes that the rising concerns of the disabled community are yet another example of the government’s need to provide sufficient social services. “[MAID] is another tool but there is so much that is missing that needs to be worked on in parallel,” she said.

“One doesn’t exclude the other.”

“At the same time, there’s a crying need for services,” said Chiarappa.

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

10

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

Ableism Unheard Slow Progress in Accessibility Hindering Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing Community Isabelle Devi Poirier

P

inpointing how much of the Canadian population is Deaf or hard-of-hearing has historically been a challenge. For years, survey data compiled by Statistics Canada has tended to lean towards the erasure of Deaf people from the general demographic.

According to the Canadian Association of the Deaf, the Health and Activities Limitations Survey, which was intended to “identify the numbers and distribution of disabled persons in Canada,” does not take Deaf people into account when formulating the survey questions.

Perpiñá St-Jacques became Deaf as a small child, so he never understood what it was like to hear sounds.

“I received a full-on surgery in Quebec City for a cochlear implant in 2001 when I was nine, and it was very scary for me because I didn’t know what would happen,” he said. “I never fully understood what hearing sounds were and I could not have an extensive hearing experience.”

For people using CIs, it is often challenging to differentiate between verbal and non-verbal

person,” said Perpiñá St-Jacques.

Perpiñá St-Jacques likes to include a lot of humour when talking about and teaching ASL, especially when it comes to the weird questions hearing people ask Deaf people. Making jokes helps people feel more comfortable when talking about how Deaf people are treated by hearing people, said Perpiñá St-Jacques.

He explained that hearing people often get anxious when they come face-to-face with him. When it comes to figuring out how to communicate, hearing people need

her boss, “her initial reaction was laughter, she thought it was funny,” said Bron Johnson. “Not exactly the reaction I was expecting.”

Bron Johnson is often disregarded when she asks for help with hearing. “There’s been a lot of laughter when you say you can’t hear something, everybody thinks it’s really hilarious for some reason,” she said.

Oftentimes, when Bron Johnson has told people she cannot hear them, she has been accused of lying to them.

“It’s frustrating for me because

“Taking those few extra seconds to say something again makes all the difference and makes me feel more included.”

— Kelly Bron Johnson The survey uses questions that are formulated “like school examination papers”, which is confusing to Deaf people due to their first languages being neither English nor French, but American Sign Language or Langue des signes québécoise. This leads to skewed survey results which can result in inaccurately determining the proportion of the Deaf community in the Canadian population.

The biggest gap between the Deaf and hard-of-hearing communities and hearing people stems from the latter’s inability to understand what being Deaf actually is. Simply said: they cannot hear. Does that not seem obvious?

Apparently not.

Hearing people often have no understanding what being Deaf or hard-of-hearing is until they come face-to-face with someone with whom they cannot communicate verbally. It is only then when people start to ask questions.

“I often get a lot of pity because I can’t hear. People say ‘aw, you can’t hear?’ And I say, ‘aw, you can’t sign?’” said Jordy Perpiñá StJacques, a 3D animator and teacher from Montreal who is Deaf.

Throughout his career, he has worked for animation companies like Signing Animation, as well as an ASL teacher at Vanier College and Seeing Voices Montreal.

Using Canada’s Video Relay Service, Perpiñá St-Jacques was able to sign in ASL and have it translated to English through an interpreter, which made his interview with The Link possible.

sounds. According to the Canadian Hard-of-Hearing Association, CIs help people hear by not turning up volume in the way a hearing aid does. Instead, they use “electrical signals from the electrodes [that] stimulate the hearing nerve, bypassing the damaged cells that cause hearing loss, allowing the brain to ‘hear’ sound.”

“I use my CI when I want to communicate with someone I really like—but I would never turn it on for my family,” he joked.

Perpiñá St-Jacques is the only member of his family who is Deaf, and while they know how to sign,

to understand that they too play a role in communicating. “Hearing people just need to learn how to connect with us halfway, [we] can’t do all of the work,” he said.

Finding effective methods to communicate with him has been a gateway for great conversations.

“People could write things down on paper, text, gesture, or really anything without using voice, get creative!” he added.

“There is a lot of access that is available now to the Deaf community, but one big wish I have is to see hearing people be more involved and for them to have access

I genuinely cannot hear them and taking those few extra seconds to say something again makes all the difference and makes me feel more included,” she explained.

“But hearing people think of it like a personal attack.”

Hear Entendre Québec is a non-profit in Montreal that sheds light on the invisibility of hearing loss.

Heidi Wager, the organization’s executive director, explained that “a lot of people with hearing loss will say ‘I got fitted with a hearing aid but it’s sitting in a drawer,’ or, ‘I have accessible devices, but I have

closed captioning options, but administrators just forget to turn them on.

“You don’t need to ask if someone needs captioning, turn on the captioning,” she said. “If they don’t need it, they can turn it off. Just include the captioning, it’s standard practice.”

It is up to the hearing community to make life easier for the Deaf and hard-of-hearing communities. These communities are already doing their part to develop services, products, and practices to get through the everyday life in a hearing world. Yet, that all gets stunted if hearing people are not willing to adapt a little bit and think a little more creatively.

“It’s a systemic problem that we need to catch up on a lot, especially in the education system [...] I know [hearing people] have different ways of accessing information, they need to realize that [communication is] a dual responsibility,” said Perpiñá StJacques. “There are so many things we need to work on, and the only people who can work on fixing the system are hearing people.”

“I know [hearing people] have different ways of accessing information, they need to realize that [communication is] a dual responsibility.”

— Jordy Perpiñá St-Jacques he still deals with noise issues living with them. For example, at the dinner table, knocking of utensils against plates and bowls, moving chairs, banging on tables and overlapping speech cannot be filtered through his CI, so Perpiñá St-Jacques is left listening to a cacophony of noises.

Although Perpiñá St-Jacques has access to a CI, he doesn’t always use it. “I don’t like to feel half-machine,” he said. In contrast to what hearing people might think, he does not consider himself disabled, he just speaks another language: sign language.

“People always ask if I miss sound and say things like ‘it must be so horrible being Deaf,’ but those are such weird things to say to a Deaf

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

as well” said Perpiñá St-Jacques.

“Deaf people do not think deafness is a problem they need to solve, Deaf people can live happily for years with access to expression.”

Kelly Bron Johnson is the founder of Completely Inclusive, a social enterprise “that aims to teach companies how to make their workplace environment and culture inclusive and accessible to all.”

Being autistic and hard-of-hearing, Bron Johnson is able to use her personal experiences to advocate for these communities through her work and in everyday life.

Bron Johnson started losing hearing in her right ear just a few years ago. When she first disclosed that she was losing her hearing to

no idea how to use [them].’”

These are mainly the types of issues the members at Hear Entendre Québec face. Wager explained that there are a lot of accessibility services out there, but they are just not being used.

When people reach out for services to help with their hearing loss, they are often given devices and shown instructions so quickly that they go home not fully understanding how to use them entirely, then feel uncomfortable reaching out for a second time.

There are also many accessibility services available to the public for free that are often ignored or forgotten about. For example, Wager explains that most video call and video services have

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

11

Fulgurite Sophie Dufresne

S

itting in a room with a social worker and my parents, I’m holding my discharge papers, and I can’t wait to see my dogs again. My parents’ sullen expressions tell me that my life will be forever changed the second I walk out of the hospital. This rehabilitation centre has only been my home for two or three weeks, but I’ve been living in hospitals for over a month. The only glimpses I’ve had of the outside world have been on ambulance rides between hospitals.

My left arm is a limb I'm no longer in control of—frequent, violent spasms start in my shoulder and plummet down my entire arm like lightning bolts striking a tree. Only, the same tree gets hit over and over again, leaving new scars every time. How will my classmates react when my spasms disrupt class—my left arm slamming against the wooden desk repeatedly, leaving behind a constellation of bruises? How will I ever get a job, ride a bus or even be seen in public?

I can’t hear what the social worker is saying. I’m dissociating without knowing what dissociation is. I'll miss the temporary friends I have made here during these past few weeks, even though I'll no longer remember their names by the time I write about them. I’ve been here the shortest amount of time, and now I will be the second to leave. I’m not sure if survivor’s guilt is the right term.

We probably all survived, but I made a near-complete recovery, leaving my doctors with more questions than answers.

I wonder what will become of the cute guy who always kept to himself but who would smile every time he saw me. Will he need a wheelchair for the rest of his life like doctors thought I would?

Those same doctors are now telling me my spasms will never fade away, but I have no way of knowing that too will prove to be false.

I dread returning to school. I'll be a whole month behind, and friend groups will have already been formed. Going back will be gradual: I'll at first only attend two of my nine classes, but every other week, I'll add an extra class to my

schedule until I end the year having attended them all at least briefly, with the exception of music and gym. I will regret having quit the trumpet, but playing an instrument with only one hand proves to be impossible. I'll one day pick up my dusty trumpet with the intention of playing again once my condition allows me to, but I'll find myself having completely forgotten the language.

Once I exit the social worker’s office, head spinning, I start the long process of saying goodbye to nurses, physiotherapists and floormates. They’re all congratulating me for having recovered faster than I should've, but I’m not sure if that’s really a compliment. I try to smile and respond respectfully, but I just wish I could pick up a remote control and fast-forward until I get home. I tried asking my mom earlier if we could just sneak out, but she said that would be rude since I owe my recovery to the workers of the centre de réadaptation Marie-Enfant.

I grit my teeth and try to be as normal as possible, not knowing what normal is anymore.

GRAPHIC NADINE ABDELLATIF

My Egg Timer Lover Zevida Germain

H

ands travel over this broken body of mine Soft feather finger tips But when my hands find your body They get stuck on Curves, stowaway clothes Refusing to wander like they should I do not work in harmony Your mind ticks like an egg timer Your body climbs pleasure like a mountain I am stuck on this scratching mattress Pine needle sheets and your tongue in my Mouth Wishing I could be numb to sensations my mind worships If there's another way to love Mouth far from Mouth, busy hands keeping to themselves I hope to never know it You are overwhelming, car alarms and messy kisses It's the sweetest sensation I've ever known

GRAPHIC NADINE ABDELLATIF

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

T

he seriousness with which Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder and other neurodivergent brain processes affect an individual's ability to function in modern society is often underestimated.

ADHD is the most common type of neurodivergent diagnoses, a category that also includes Autism, Dyslexia, Borderline Personality Disorder and Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, among others. These conditions differ in severity depending on the affected person, and both their prevalence and rate of diagnosis are becoming more common among the general population. In the United States, about one out of 10 children have a neurodivergent diagnosis. While the number of people diagnosed with ADHD is increasing steadily, many neurotypical individuals fail to understand what it really means to have a learning disability.

WAITING IN RESTLESSNESS - DALLAS CALVERT

Many scientists today don’t even classify neurodivergence as a disability. Rather, they consider it a condition in which someone's brain processes information and behaves in ways different from what’s considered "typical."

Consequently, ADHD treatment often focuses on accommodating differences as opposed to curing what was once perceived as an illness. While the effects of ADHD last for life, its symptoms can be treated using medication and/or therapy.

Despite a growing understanding of the condition, there is still a lack of support for people with ADHD. Neurodivergent individuals are often regarded as immature or deviant; seen as class clowns or trouble makers for behaviors they often can’t control. These symptoms fall into two categories: inattentiveness (trouble with focus and concentration), and/or hyperactivity and impulsiveness.

CITY STAMPEDE - DALLAS CALVERT

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

CALVERT PHOTO DALLAS

12

Restl Impul Distra

Living and Learn Can be a N Dallas

A CHILDISH COLLECTION OF (IMPERMANENT) OBJECTS - DALLAS CALVERT

ADHD also belongs to a greater brain-related issue: Executive Function Disorder. This affects the mind’s ability to break down a larger issue into smaller and more manageable parts.

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

13

COLLAPSED DISTINCTIONS - DALLAS CALVERT

less, lsive, acted

ning with ADHD Nightmare

This series of photos interprets the experience of living with a neurodivergent mind.

In addition to the effects of inattentiveness and hyperactivity, neurodivergent individuals often experience overwhelming sensations during everyday activities and become hyperfixated on certain interests.

Take for example some common experiences of living in a big city like Montreal. People, noise, lights and vehicles are all stimulating sights of which an ADHD brain can overestimate the severity of—or worse, become dangerously distracted by. As a result, an after-school stroll can turn into a raging stampede.

Calvert

OVERSHADOWED BY DISORGANISATION- DALLAS CALVERT

Distortions of reality are also aggravated by related conditions that often result simultaneously in neurodivergent individuals, such as anxiety, depression and insomnia. People tend to dissociate to cope with the mental overload brought on by these conditions, leading to a sense of detachment from their body, or feeling as if the world isn’t real.

All this to say, being neurodivergent doesn’t have to be entirely bad. Having a different way of perceiving reality can be quite interesting, as long as the affected individuals and people supporting them are knowledgeable and understanding.

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

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THE DISABILITY ISSUE

Conversation With a Paralympian Q&A With Anton Jacobs-Webb, Sledge-Hockey Silver Medalist Sophie Dufresne

O

n Oct. 25, The Link sat down with Concordia student and Paralympic silver medalist Anton Jacobs-Webb to ask him a few questions on sledge hockey and on accessibility within sports. Jacobs-Webb, who was born with one leg shorter than the other, began playing sledge hockey at the age of 11.

Answers have been edited for clarity.

When did you first have your eyes set on the Olympics or international hockey competition?

I actually started playing sledge hockey when I was 11.

When I first got introduced to it, I met a person who was on [the Canadian] national team, one of the players who went to the Paralympics, so he introduced me to the sport. I knew I wanted to be on the national team and I wanted to go to the Paralympics right from when I first met the player, Jean Labonté. He's from the Ottawa/Gatineau area.

How do you train for sledge hockey?

I would say it's a little bit different in the gym, just because we use our arms and our back so much. It's a lot of upper body work—forearms because we're shooting a lot. On ice, the movement is different, but outside of the drills, the tactical part of the game is really similar. I think it's just that sometimes, you have to work on angles because we can't skate backwards. [...] Our defensive approach is a bit different.

We don't use our legs as much at all. But we do use our hips in a certain way. I still do deadlifts and that kind of [exercises]. I don't really do squats all that much, but [I do] lower back strengthening, hips, [and] core [to better] control [the] sled. And then it's a lot of back and shoulder [exercises].

And just all upper body; a lot of forearms for shooting.

What is a misconception about sledge hockey or something you wish people knew about it?

I don't think there are any. I think often, people ask if the rules are the same—all the rules are the same in sledge hockey. The only difference would be that you can't run into somebody with your sled, [a] big metal sled can cause injuries. Otherwise, I think it's pretty straightforward.

What is it like to juggle being a professional athlete and your studies at Concordia with the added difficulty of navigating institutions like Concordia, that are built for able-bodied individuals?

As for the campus, I don't personally have any challenges.

I mean, stairs take a bit more energy for me. If I'm going to the Hall building, I usually just take the elevator. But I don't usually have a challenge in that way. Living in Montreal [requires] a lot of walking, but that's kind of what it is—I'm used to that. In general, for school and hockey, I think it's a lot of time management for me.

This is my fifth year on the team, so I've gotten a bit used to it, but it

was quite a challenge at the beginning. I have to communicate with my teachers a lot, so I touch bases with them at the beginning of the semester. I tell them when I'm going to be away, what exams I’m going to miss, that kind of stuff.

But I mean, Concordia has been really nice to me. […] It’s been really easy so far.

Concordia doesn't have any parasport team despite claiming to be working towards achieving what they call Equity, Diversity and Inclusion throughout the university. Why do you think that is?

I honestly don't personally know of any university that [has] para sport teams. I think the challenge is there [aren’t] as many athletes to fill the whole team, but I think they could provide some kind of support, like equal access to the facilities [and] a varsity if you have an elite parasport athlete. [Providing] them with the [same] support that the varsity athletes get could be an option.

Do you find that there's a lack of disability representation in sports?

Parasports have come a long way and there's still a long way to go to get us to the same competitive level [as non-para hockey, since] we're [still] a little behind women's hockey. […] The more players you have competing at lower levels, the more competitive it gets, and the more fans and spectators that you get. I think we're just looking for players right now, similar[ly to] quite a few other sports that go into the Paralympics. There are quite a few sports where there aren't that many new players coming up, and that's a bit of a challenge right now.

Is there anything else you'd like to talk about or elaborate on?

I [would like to] thank the War Amps of Canada. They’re a non-profit organization that helps me with my prosthetics [by] fund[ing them and] they've also helped fund my sled. [War Amps] do[es] a lot, so I usually get them a shout out.

PHOTO COURTESY CANADIA PARALYMPIC COMMITTEE / ANGELA BURGER

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

I Was The Disabled Student Left Behind During a Fire Drill Concordia’s Security Is Failing Disabled Students Jess Marshall

I

was sitting in room 210 of the Learning Square, listening to a lecture about Isaac Asimov, when the fire alarm went off. Everyone looked around and wondered if it was real, then very quickly started packing their bags and grabbing their coats, rushing towards the sole staircase in the building, hoping to beat all the other 80-person classrooms rushing out.

Since the Learning Square is a temporary classroom space as it is supposed to make up for the lack of rooms due to construction in the Hall building, there is no elevator, no escalator and absolutely no accessible way to make it up and down the second floor.

Five years may be short in the long run, but that's more time than it’ll take me to get my degree at Concordia. Five years of navigating through inaccessible classrooms is a lifetime for disabled and mobility-reduced students, such as myself.

Anyone can get injured, anyone can sprain their ankle in the middle of a semester and have to claw their way up a flight of steps in excruciating pain just so they don’t miss their lecture. But elevators and escalators are expensive, and accessibility is a frequent afterthought within Concordia’s budget.

Having sprained my ankle two days before, I grabbed my crutches while my friend shoved my stuff in their backpack because I couldn’t carry anything myself. I waited until the classroom had cleared out. I was terrified, knowing it had taken me a good three minutes just to get up the stairs initially. I was nearly trampled by running students as I left the classroom and walked down the hall. Lights and sirens were blaring and security was yelling at students to hurry up and get out, lying about there being smoke. This chaos was all for a drill, but at the time I didn’t know that.

I was terrified that I was caught in the middle of a crowd and now, I was worried there was an actual fire. A security guard in the back yelled at students to turn around and use the fire escape.

Once again, I was caught in a wave of people going the opposite direction, desperately trying not to fall over or get trapped.

Once I finally got to the fire escape, the security guard told me to go down. I looked and noticed that the thin metal making up the fire escape looked like swiss cheese, with holes big enough that my crutches could easily get caught in and make me fall. The steps were unbelievably narrow and tight, leaving no room for me to navigate properly.

Read more:

I refused, saying I would go back down the regular staircase.

I started the slow process of hobbling down the hall again, feeling absolutely panicked, only for him to inform me that it was actually just a drill and there was no smoke.

He then said to just stay there for a few minutes. My friend, a lifesaver, grabbed me a chair as we waited to be told what to do.

Another security guard came up to me and told me that normally, they have a transfer chair, something they could put me on to get me downstairs safely. I asked if she could go get one so I could get out of the building. She disappeared, eventually telling me she didn’t know where the transfer chair was, or if the building was even equipped with one.

I asked her what I would do in a real emergency—how would I get out? She motioned that she’d carry me or throw me over her shoulder, then laughed and said it would be fine. It didn’t feel fine.

Having my safety be a joke did not feel fine in that moment, coming down from a near panic attack because of the adrenaline and fear that I was going to be trapped in a smoking building.

Eventually, she went on her walkie-talkie and said they had someone with reduced mobility on the second floor, and five minutes later, told her supervisor over the walkie-talkie that she’d safely evacuated me. She winked at me and walked away, leaving me to feel completely and utterly helpless.

15

A fire drill is a practice, it’s supposed to be a rehearsal so everyone knows what to do in case of an actual emergency. I don’t feel prepared for a fire, I don't know what I would do, and I certainly don’t feel like I would be in capable hands. A team who lies about getting a student out safely just to speed up a test, that jokes about missing mobility aid and that fails to protect me does not make me feel safe on campus.

My friend and I eventually called the security guard back and asked if she could get actual answers about what I should do in a real emergency. I will be on crutches for the next few weeks, and given how frequently I rely on mobility aids as a disabled student, I want to know how to protect myself. She said she’d get us some information and walked downstairs. Fifteen minutes later, my friend and I were still upstairs, alone in an evacuated building, as students slowly started coming back in for the remainder of their classes. Exhausted, frustrated and furious, we slowly made our way back down the stairs only to pass the security team going over the details of the fire drill and calling it a success. It was not a success.

Leaving a vulnerable student alone without any plan of escape cannot, by any rational measure, be considered a success.

Concordia’s lack of accessibility is a constant annoyance and hurdle to my education and that of so many others, but the absolute bare minimum is feeling safe within the school buildings where I go to learn and feel safe, not one where my well-being is jeopardized.

Concordia’s security team made me feel terrified and as though I was a burden. They made me feel like my safety couldn’t be guaranteed. They handled the situation with complete incompetence and when I asked what I should do in a real emergency, how I would safely leave the building in a real fire, they shrugged and said “we’ll get back to you,” but never did.

To this day, I just have to hope someone can either carry me out, find a wheelchair or just wait until the staircases are empty as the hallways slowly fill with smoke so that maybe I can make my way down before I’m injured, burnt or worse. The thought terrifies me.

I’m scared that being on crutches is going to lead to something awful, and the one thing that the school implements to prepare for these events and protect us as students has completely failed me.

GRAPHIC NADINE ABDELLATIF

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

16

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

My Brother Sean Was an Interesting Person Changing How We See Those With Disabilities, Thanks to my Brother Conor Tomalty

M

y older brother Sean lived with a condition called Duchenne Muscular Dystrophya neuromuscular disease that creates progressive muscle degeneration.

In layman’s terms, Sean’s muscle tissue broke down over time. Additionally, my brother was diagnosed with a Pervasive Developmental Disorder— a diagnosis, understood at the time, as an umbrella term, encompassing disorders such as Autism and Aspergers.

Because of his condition, my brother used a motorized wheelchair to move around. Sean was a unique and special person. If you knew him, you would say that he was much more than someone with DMD. Many people found it difficult to look past that because of his condition. It is a real shame because if people were to put their ignorance aside, they would clue into how you should treat those with disabilities properly.

I can point out issues I’ve seen countless times while growing up alongside Sean. In an attempt to shed light on the matter, hopefully more able-bodied people can identify what they do wrong, and can alter these habits to better welcome those with disabilities into society.

Bullying is still a thing. I’m just as shocked as you are, dear reader. Harsh names and mean, narrow-minded descriptors are often the weapons of choice, but there is also a form of bullying that stems less from children, and more from their parents whose ignorance causes hurt.

When you’re a wheelchair user in high school, like Sean was, at times you can be described as “popular”. Popular for the wrong reasons. As I said, I don’t so much blame the kids for this. I implore parents who hear about a nickname to enquire into what that nickname is, why it is attributed to the individual and use proper judgment about whether it is appropriate. Through this assessment of the situation, showing empathy towards a peer promotes education and teaches your able-bodied children to be more respectful.

The last thing I’ll say about the issue of bullying is that my brother was pretty good with words.

As we were siblings, teasing and name-calling were a rite of passage. I had the privilege of being annoying for a long time. For any comment I’d throw Sean’s way, he would often have an acceptable

retort for his younger brother’s pestering. He found ways to incorporate inanimate objects in a clever fashion. I was called a “doorknob” for a brief period of time and it was effective.

On the subject of family and tackling another misunderstanding I have seen made, Sean’s life was nice. My brother always had people who loved and cared about him. My mother is my hero for the amount of love she gave my brother, not only because of his needs but because she’s a mother who loves her children.

Despite Sean’s limitations, he experienced happiness. Yes, having to use a wheelchair is restricting, but it does not mean you have to be confined by it. My brother travelled. Sean went to New York City when he was 10, where he saw a Broadway show, rode in a limo to numerous events, and most prolific, visited the set of Sesame Street, getting the opportunity to call Oscar what he really is—a grouch. Later he visited San Francisco riding cable cars, visiting Pier 39 and touring museums.

I am trying to illustrate that my brother still lived through wonderful times. His appreciation of film and literature allowed him to absorb information and share it with others. Sean was a knowledgeable human being, who was surprisingly good at Jeopardy.

Sean’s life impacted those whom he came in contact with.

When he passed away last year, it touched a lot of people within the community he grew up in. Former teachers, integration aides and neighbours were all in attendance to show their respects and pay tribute to Sean. It was a moment that showed the positive influence one person can have on so many people.

Stories were shared from my brother’s youth, some of which I had never heard before.

Those living with a disability may have some limitations, but these limitations don’t hinder who they are as people. In fact, it does quite the opposite, as they live a life with a distinct perspective—a life that can help in opening up how we, as able-bodied individuals, understand the world.

Labels and inappropriate nicknames can indeed cause harm to someone, and just because someone has limitations, it does not mean that they can’t find appreciation in their life.

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

GRAPHIC NADINE ABDELLATIF

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

17

I’m Not Just a Person With a Disability The Disabled Community is Capable of So Much More Than You Assume Olivia Integlia

I

never thought of myself as disabled, I just thought I was unique. My disability was a quality I possessed that differentiated me from others—no different from hair or eye colour.

It wasn’t until I signed a medical form a few years ago I noticed that upon looking down to the “additional information” section, I noticed that my chart specified I was “handicapped.” I was dumbfounded, as though the news of my disability had just been broken to me.

In reality, my disability has always been part of my life. I was born with a cleft palate, a malformation of the palate, and Pierre Robin syndrome, an underdevelopment of the jaw. My condition came with an array of complications including difficulty swallowing food, frequent ear and throat infections, difficulty breathing, nasal speech, risk of sleep apnea and dental problems.

I suffered from these complications throughout my childhood. I had nine corrective surgeries and countless dental procedures growing up. After each medical procedure, I went through rigorous speech therapy to readapt to the new oral mechanisms. My parents drove me to weekly speech therapy and orthodontist appointments throughout elementary and high school.

I never let my disability consume my identity, however. I did not want my peers to reduce me to the so-called girl with disabilities.

I remember having to fight my teachers to allow me to do oral presentations in front of the class, as opposed to one-on-one. They tried to convince me that it was in my best interest because my classmates might laugh or mimic my voice. I didn’t care. It felt worse to be ostracized from my peers.

COURTESY OLIVIA INTEGLIA

COURTESY OLIVIA INTEGLIA

As I got older, I figured it might be better to just omit my disability because I didn’t want to be treated differently—although my nasal speech, being the most prominent complication, was very noticeable. Anyone who spoke to me could recognize that I had a severe speech problem.

My nasal voice made me a target for bullies, as though my disability made me unable to have feelings.

Some classmates would make fun of my voice, imitate my speech or call me “weird.” I just shook that behaviour off as kids being ignorant, faulting their parents for not teaching them proper manners.

What bothered me most were the adults that were openly ableist to a child who could not defend herself—and it still bothers me.

I will never forget being rejected from the choir in school because the music teacher told me I had “a frog in my throat.” I am grate-

ful that my parents and older sister tirelessly defended me in these cases. Let’s just say, after my mother confronted the choir teacher, I sang front and centre for the CTV Share the Warmth Christmas concert.

As an adult, my speech problem disappeared almost entirely. I often think back to the treatment I faced when my voice was more nasal.

Teachers, students and even strangers crossing paths with me treated me differently, as though I was inferior to them.

One particular memory of mine stands out. In a parent-teacher conference in secondary one, my mother was approached by my science teacher, who felt she had cracked the Da Vinci code in attempting to diagnose me. “Is your daughter deaf?” she asked almost condescendingly after admitting that she went as far as contacting my former elementary school to obtain my file. My mother clarified that I wasn’t. I overheard this conversation from right outside the door, confused as to why this was even relevant to ask.

She probably asked because she assumed my disability would affect my performance in her class. The fact was that I had been doing well in her class, participating greatly and even sitting front row, answering every question. I had not given her a single reason to think that my disability would affect my performance in her class.

The assumption that my disability would affect my class performance is riddled with implicit biases harmful to the disabled community. There is this misconception that exists that all people

with disabilities struggle intellectually—this is simply untrue.

I have also come across people who host pity parties for me when I would disclose my disability. “I feel bad for you,” they say. “You must have had a really tough childhood,” or “I am so sorry.”

Let’s get one thing straight: people with disabilities don’t spend their lives cast in dark shadows, sulking in misery. Most of us can live happy, fulfilling lives, despite requiring accommodations.

Able-bodied or not, nobody likes to feel like their life sucks, especially when they don’t think that themselves. I recognize I have felt pain and endured procedures that some will never experience, but those moments in my life are minimal compared to the good moments I’ve had.

And let me clarify, my successes don’t hold more weight due to my disabilities. As a competitive debater, people often praise me for pursuing debate in spite of my speech problem. I find the overcompensation of praise quite condescending. Today, I proudly coach debate for two institutions and stand as president of the Concordia Debate Society strictly because I worked hard and practiced long hours to refine my skills, which I value so much more than just improving my speech. Debate gave me confidence and taught me how to research and structure my thoughts.

Comments are often not ill-intentioned. But as a society, we must pay greater attention to our implicit biases which harm and generalize the disabled community.

These uninformed assumptions further feed the stigma surrounding disability. We are a community of people with the same hunger for everyday joys and challenges as the rest of you.

COURTESY OLIVIA INTEGLIA

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

18

THE DISABILITY ISSUE

Sex Ed(itorial): Is it Okay to Have Sex with Someone Who’s Autistic?

Autism, Sex, Autonomy and Me Zevida Germain

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T

hree years ago, I was sitting in the doctor's office, getting my annual physical exam when my former doctor asked my mom if she’d ever considered testing me for autism. I remember just one feeling washing over me: I was pissed.

Not because I was offended at the thought that anyone could assume I had autism, but because I was 15 and had just lost my virginity a few months prior. I was convinced that nobody would have sex with me ever again.

Autistic people don’t have sex—or so I thought.

My doctor was right, by the way.

I am autistic and can now confirm that autistic people actually do have sex, even when the other person knows you’re autistic. Looking back on it now, it’s funny to think of a little 15-year-old me stressed out of my mind over the thought that no one would ever want to fuck me again.

Of course, the thoughts and biases behind this assumption certainly are reflective of the disabled experience.

My fear was without reason.

To be disabled is to have your autonomy constantly questioned.

When some of your autonomy has

already been taken from you by your own body or mind, society will often try to take the rest. Just because I function differently than you doesn't mean I shouldn't have the right to make my own informed choices over my life and body.

While disabled people aren’t given their own autonomy, it’s no wonder why my 15-year-old self believed that nobody with autism fucks.

The desexualizing of disabled people doesn't just lead to annoying stereotypes and questions, it puts our lives and livelihoods at risk. Disabled children often receive less sex education in schools, and it continues as they get older.

Disabled people are almost seven times more likely to experience sexual violence in their lifetimes, and even less likely to receive help for it.

I don’t just think I was just scared of people not having sex with me. I think deep down, I was scared of a little more autonomy slipping away from me again. Or maybe I just had crazy teenage hormones and really just wanted to fuck. One or the two—they are not mutually exclusive.

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

What's it like to have sex with autism? Well, I don't really know.

To me at least, it's just normal sex. Because I've been autistic for every encounter I've ever had, I could tell you exactly how it works but I don't really think you need to know that.

In the interest of protecting my autonomy, I'll just say this: sex is full of sensations, emotions and touches that can be overwhelming. For me, that typically comes in even the simplest form of physical touch being way too much for me sometimes. Some things are gonna have to change in order for it to be comfortable for me. I need breaks at strange times. But that’s only me, and every autistic person is different with stuff like that. If you’re reading this looking for a way to be more understanding of your autistic/neurodivergent/disabled partner: ask them! Talk to them!

I can’t tell you what they need.

And if you ever feel strange about the boundaries you need in order to feel comfortable getting it on, just remember: everyone does it a little differently!

FRINGE ARTS

19

If My Body Had a Name: A Breathing Body of Work MAI showcases Hoor Malas’ Pluridisciplinary Act of Vulnerability Menel Rehab

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n Nov. 3, Syrian contemporary dancer Hoor Malas held the media premiere of her performance If My Body Had a Name in the Montreal arts interculturels.

The performance was held inside a 360 view proscenium alongside free flowing instrumental Arabic songs.

In a pitch black setting, Hoor Malas’ figure lay on the floor, naked, waiting to be animated by art.

Using techniques of release and improvisation as well as floor work, If My Body Had a Name is a contemporary dance performance exploring themes of vulnerability through a mind-body complex. It presents an analysis of the embodied resonance of gestures, particularly those associated with Malas’ Middle Eastern heritage and an exposure of their social and occasionally repressive aspects.

The proscenium being quite dense and narrow, the event was intimate, discrete and left open for vulnerability. The room’s compact and confidential space allowed for open self-expression and interaction with the audience. The audience’s reaction to that quiet ambiance was hence subjective, but constantly emotional.

Inspired by Ken Robinson’s Ted Talk about mind and body co-existence, Malas’ piece brings together the cultural conflicts of a country at war, the intuitive use of emotion and gesture, the positive and negative use of space and an interactive marionette-like choreography. These as a whole create a somatic experience and generate dialogue with intergenerational audiences, with an age range from very young to elderly.

According to the Head of Communications at the MAI, Jaëlle Dutremble-Rivet, this project was funded by Conseil des Arts de Montréal, Île de Montréal, Patrimoine Canada and several more institutions. Dutremble-Rivet said that Malas was invited to be a part of MAI’s programming after her work caught the attention of former MAI artistic director Michael Toppings.

Malas’ work invites audiences to reflect simultaneously on the physicality and psychology of the human body. Using dance, she practices multisensory storytelling, and dissects states of mind and different life stages with a series of monologues. Throughout her piece, Malas’ monologues convey her reflections on past personal experiences and what they have taught her about growth in life.

Malas explained that while her piece is anchored in the present, she also draws on a heavy accumulation of memories throughout. She added that monologues are her favourite method for tackling this approach as they allow her to process the emotions that surface.

COURTESY THIBAULT CARON

“I have a monologue throughout the whole piece. I have a monologue as a snail, I have a monologue as becoming a person, as a baby, as a teenager… I keep talking to myself. This whole work is a discovery, or a re-discovery of the self, ” Malas said.

Malas added that she wanted her performance to feature just one body, naked, with minimal light and music. She explained this was to put emphasis on the theme of control: control of breath, thought and self-expression.

Malas said that her performance also touches on her journey to Montreal. Instances from her personal history and relationship to Syrian culture are referenced throughout; all of which she has attempted to condense into a single gesture here.

According to Malas, accepting that one has influence over other people's thoughts or reflections is difficult for artists to accept. “Letting go of control is a crucial aspect of the artist’s work, as once he stops seeking approval, he starts being true to himself,” she said.

Rehearsal and Technical Director Neil Sochasky also played a crucial role in the performance by providing feedback on Malas’ choreography.

“One thing to remember about live art is that each performance is its own thing,” he said. “That means that the work that you’re doing is still continuing… So tomorrow, you’ll still be growing the piece, the day after, you’ll still be growing the piece. To me, this work, as much as it’s about reflective habits, it is about growth.”

COURTESY THIBAULT CARON

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

20

SPORTS

“Concordia’s Best Kept Secret”: Stingers Wrestling Concordia Hosts Its Annual Invitational Wrestling Tournament Mohammad Khan

W

arm maroon and vivid gold mimicked the unusually summery Sunday as the orange lights of the Loyola Athletics Complex lit up the buzzing gym.

Wrestling mats became welcome mats for clubs getting prepared to tussle with Concordia’s best.

A tight-knit crowd of parents, relatives, former wrestlers and wrestling fanatics lined up the sidelines as coaches and wrestlers prepared for the tournament on Nov. 6.

Local, regional and national wrestlers from various clubs such as Vanier College and Carleton University came to square off against Concordia’s prestigious team. Known to have a formidable wrestling reputation, Stingers wrestling continued to carry this legacy that morning.

As the tournament barreled along, wrestlers Sophia Bechard and Amanda Savard clinched the gold, winning first place in the 59 kg and the 67 kg weight divisions respectively.

Wrestlers Connor Church, Conor Currie and Kiana Boschitsch came in close second places at 76 kg, 100 kg and 72-76 kg divisions respectively.

Alexia Sherland took the bronze in third place in the 72-76 kg weight division.

Head Coach David Zilberman reminisced on Concordia’s

ing, I was really fresh and had not competed a lot,” Church stated.

“They made me into a much better wrestler. I’d like to say thank you to everyone here at Concordia and the Montreal Wrestling Club.”

Although coming in second place, Church is optimistic about the road ahead. “[The tournament] didn’t go as planned. I ended up placing second, I definitely wanted to get the gold, but I learned a lot of valuable lessons today and I improved overall as a wrestler, so I am grateful for that […] I’ll take what I learned here and apply it to the next tournament.”

Concordia Wrestling will be throwing it down next Sunday, Nov. 13 at Toronto Metropolitan University.

RESULTS

PHOTO IVAN DE JACQUELIN

rich wrestling history that few are aware of. The tournament has been hosted annually for 32 years.

“Concordia’s wrestling team has been around since the 70s,” said Zilberman. “Wrestling at Concordia has won seven national championships and has also had dozens of olympians, national champions, and world medalists.”

“We had a Concordia alum in the Tokyo Olympics,” continued the head coach. “Another Con-

cordia wrestler who just took a bronze medal at the world championships in Serbia, also an alum.

It’s a very high level and this is Concordia’s best kept secret.”

Zilberman was excited for the season ahead, which involves many road tournaments across the country. He expressed having high hopes for his team.

“It’s a great development tournament, we have a lot of young athletes coming here to compete.

Our Concordia team is young and developing, this is just a great opportunity for them to wrestle,” Zilberman added.

Hailing from Winnipeg, Manitoba, Stingers wrestler Connor Church has been taking part in the sport since the ninth grade, joining Concordia last year.

“It’s been an amazing experience, taking me to the next level as a wrestler. When I came here I felt like I didn’t know what I was do-

Women’s 1st Place - Sophia Bechard of Concordia 59kg 1st Place - Amanda Savard of Concordia 67kg 2nd Place - Kiana Boschitsch of Concordia 72-76kg 3rd Place - Alexia Sherland of Concordia 72-76kg Men’s 2nd Place - Connor Church of Concordia 76kg 2nd Place - Conor Currie of Concordia 100kg

SPORTS

Stingers Weekend Wrap-Up: Nov. 4 to 6 Hockey Takes Precedence While Football Comes to a Close Conor Tomalty

L

et’s talk Stingers…

Football:Lost in the Réseau du sport étudiant du Québec (RSEQ) Semi-Final The time has come for the Stingers Football team to hang up their cleats for 2022. A 38-27 loss at the hands of the Université de Laval Rouge et Or spelled an early exit for the Concordia team on Nov. 5. Despite having a team filled to the brim with talent, the game came down to execution and an amalgamation of all the little things. In hindsight, if the Stingers hadn’t given up 30 points in the first half, the result may have been different. But the inability to carry that third-quarter momentum, jumping offside on a field-goal attempt, and not having penalty calls go your way led to Laval overcoming Concordia.

Coach Brad Collinson’s team will now turn to next year. With numerous players expected to return and a staff eager for the recruiting stage, it will be interesting to see what develops in the off-season.

21

SCOREBOARD MEN’S HOCKEY W 4-2 vs. Ottawa Nov. 4 W 3-2 OT vs. Carleton Nov. 5 WOMEN’S HOCKEY W 3-2 OT vs. Ottawa Nov. 4 L 4-3 vs. Carleton Nov. 6

Women’s Hockey:Currently in fourth place in the RSEQ Once again, the Stingers women’s hockey team played two games this past weekend. They secured a win against the University of Ottawa Gee-Gees on Nov. 4 and a loss at the hands of the Carleton University Ravens on Nov. 6.

Concordia now find themselves situated in the middle of the pack with a record of 3-2-0. There have been high expectations placed on the team. A number-one ranking within U Sports is often granted to a defending national championship team, but the bar may have been set too high. This is not to say the Stingers are incapable of returning to the national tournament. It is a reminder that this group is still finding an identity removed from the previous year.

Many players are familiar with one another. This chemistry will lead to success hopefully soon.

Next game is against the McGill University Martlets on Nov. 11, at 7:30 p.m..

FOOTBALL (RSEQ Semi-Final) L 38-27 vs. Laval Nov. 5 Men’s Hockey:Currently Second in the Ontario University Athletics East Division On the other side of the Ed Meagher Arena, the Stingers men’s hockey team has thrived since the season's debut. The team currently sits at 6-2-0, having overcome both adversaries. They beat the Ottawa Gee-Gees 4-2 on Nov. 4 and claimed a 3-2 overtime victory against the Carleton Ravens on Nov. 5. What has given the squad the advantage are the impactful players who have returned to the roster this season. Tying in a dynamic that has meshed well, the Stingers look to be tough competition thus far in the season. What will be interesting is whether or not this winning consistency lasts throughout the year.

Next game is against the Université du Québec à Trois-Rivières Patriotes on Nov. 11 at 7 p.m..

WOMEN’S BASKETBALL L 83-49 vs. UQAM Nov. 3 MEN’S BASKETBALL W 78-73 vs. UQAM Nov. 3

SCHEDULE WOMEN’S BASKETBALL Thursday, Nov. 10 vs. Bishop’s at 6 p.m.

Friday, Nov. 11 vs. McGill at 6 p.m.

WOMEN’S HOCKEY Friday, Nov. 11 vs. McGill at 7:30 p.m.

Sunday, Nov. 13 @ Bishop’s at 3:30 p.m.

MEN’S HOCKEY Friday, Nov. 11 @ UQTR at 7 p.m.

GRA

PHIC

MAR

ILOU

Saturday, Nov. 12 @ UQTR at 4 p.m.

BRIC

KERT

FOOTBALL Saturday, Oct. 29 vs. Laval at 2 p.m.

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

22 OPINIONS

I AM Black and I Am Tired of

Discussing The N-Word

The Musk of Greed and The Freedom Not To Care Sandra Mouafo

I

used to tirelessly explain why the N-word has no place in the classroom, only to be met with endless talks of ‘academic freedom’ in return. I too felt that Quebec’s academic freedom bill, Bill 32, was a slap in the face. My education is not negatively impacted by pedagogical censorship, but my mental health is impacted by supposed academic freedom.

Is removing my ability to feel safe in predominantly white institutions so that my professors may continue to use slurs freely what academic freedom is about? What part of hate speech is free?

Elon Musk took ownership of Twitter and, almost immediately, there was a rise in hate speech.

Notably, the rise of the usage of the N-word. Musk is a self-proclaimed “free speech absolutist.”

But what does it mean practically?

Former Justice of the U.S. Supreme Court, Oliver Wendell Holmes Jr., once said: “your personal liberty to swing your arm ends where my nose begins.”

Freedom of speech is not a synonym for freedom of consequence.

Infringing on others’ basic human rights is not the same as disturbing one’s right to comfort. To value and protect our rights and freedom of speech, we must first acknowledge the real-life implications they hold.

Sociologist and Pan-Africanist civil rights activist W.E.B. Dubois said in The Souls of Black Folks, “[...]The laws are made by men who have little interest in him; they are executed by men who have absolutely no motive for treating Black people with courtesy or consideration.” Musk is the exemplification of the oligarchy’s quest to silence criticism so that they may continue to not consider the people harmed by their carelessness and ignorance.

Just like Bill 32, Musk seeks to create new laws that benefit only those in power. Let us not forget that we are speaking about a man who is the CEO of a company that continues to avoid accountability for the mistreatment of its Black workers.

Is freedom of speech the obliteration of someone’s sense of basic decency towards others?

What is academic freedom for marginalized students?

Making the classroom feel safe and equitable is a cyclical

political hot topic. But making the Internet a more forgiving and compassionate space has never been a focus for any of the tech companies that control it.

It remains nowhere to be found on Musk’s agenda. The oppression of marginalized people is too profitable to ever change the status quo. Why would a businessman seek to do anything but conduct business? Musk does not yearn for freedom of speech—after all, what freedom is not afforded to those who essentially own the world—he yearns for ownership of speech and freedom of consequence.

I never used to understand people’s obsession with the N-word. I later understood the obsession wasn’t with the word itself, but rather the pursuit of absolute power under the veil of freedom. It is a reminder that caring about equity-denied lives is a benevolent act, not an obli-

spected for as long as it lives within the confines of my Blackness. From the writings of Joseph Conrad to the white contextualization of the vilification of Blackness, arbitrarily valued forms of knowledge and art hold more importance than my

ings, while Canada reiterates and reproduces the subjugation of Indigenous peoples, when the premier of Quebec denies the existence of systemic racism.

Raising online awareness about marginalized lived experiences in response to its omission is, in fact, less conducive to social harmony than merely ignoring habitual discriminatory language.

Instead, stepping to the other side of arguments begets more polarization, and therefore more intoler-

“Any argument for the usage of the N-word by non-black people is but an example of entitlement toward the unethically wielding of freedom of speech.”

— Sandra Mouafo person—that a classroom offer absolution only for those with power within it; it is leaving the door unlocked for the revival of slavery through the tacit understanding that respect is neither mutual nor unconditional. It is wielding academic authority negligently.

I have never seen the word freedom used as often as I have in the last two years. Yet, I rarely see it used in the contexts that need the most liberation. If no

ance and hatred. Ultimately, fostering more political tribalism by eclipsing the moderate majority.

Social media acts as a prism that entraps extremisms and emboldens racist oligarchs like Legault and Musk. That is what author and professor of sociology Chris Bail argues in his book Breaking the Social Media Prism.

I am under no illusion that fostering a new collective culture is easy. Social media platforms

word should be taboo, we should first seek to eliminate the conditions that make them taboo in the first place. I do not have the privilege of living in a theoretical utopian society in which the common usage of slurs does not translate into actual violence. I cannot justify using this hateful language, whether in a classroom or not, when parts of the U.S. still have sundown towns and lynch-

have presented themselves as an easy solution for a better world with open discussions, and a place for boundless tolerance. It helps make the argument that free speech or academic freedom can only exist with a greater willingness to be open to hearing and engaging with prejudiced ideas.

That we must offer self-restraint in the face of words that unsettle and harm us. Philosopher Karl

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gation. Tolerance and understanding are prioritized for those made uncomfortable by the idea of racism rather than those regularly experiencing it.

In the case of the N-word, the argument for academic freedom is a weak one. No one can effectively stop anyone from saying the N-Word. But saying it, regardless of the context, is the assertion that my humanity does not need to be re-

thelinknewspaper.ca • November 8, 2022

Popper, in his book The Open Society and Its Enemies, introduces the paradox of tolerance. He explains that unlimited tolerance can lead to the extinction of tolerance, and that defending it requires not tolerating the intolerant. As it turns out, tolerance is not inherently good regardless of how many times one may agree to subject themselves to antisemitism, homophobia, anti-Blackness and other types of intolerance for the sake of social harmony.

In truth, Internet discourse happens in a dichotomy—you are

either with or against us—and the exposure to people who oppose us often fosters hatred towards them. Hatred then increasingly structures our politics and trickles back into our academic and everyday lives. This socially destructive structure is embedded in the core functioning of social media itself.

There is a reward for the expression of disapproval, disdain and outrage on social media and in politics, that holds no equivalent for compassion and care.

Social media has proven incapable of generating conversations that would otherwise happen organically. Academia ends up being a reflection of how the lack of generative conversations creates more alienation and estrangement from each other.

Neither social media in its current form nor Bill 32 remedy this.

Instead, they insert themselves as a breeding ground for the justification of hate speech under the guise of free speech.

Academic freedom designates that student wellness is a secondary concern. For marginalized students, it is about academic compliance and servitude rather than freedom. Any argument for the usage of the N-word by nonBlack people is but an example of entitlement toward the unethically wielding of freedom of speech.

Musk, like many others, conflates the ability to speak freely in everyday situations and in fear of harsh criticism or retaliation for what is said. Mindful speech doesn’t trigger retaliation, and peril is only a byproduct of carelessness and its resulting harm.

Still, the burden of impact falls on the disenfranchised who are left afflicted by the expectation of the graceful reception of hatred and dehumanization. If free speech costs us peace, it is not, in fact, free.

EDITORIAL

23

One Down, 87 To Go

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hen Asli Isaaq, a Black student and executive of the Concordia Student Union, attempted to attend the launch of the Anti-Black Racism Task Force’s Final Report, she was turned away at the door after being told her name was not on the list of attendees. This was despite the fact that she was personally invited to the event by the university’s president and provost.

Not even ten minutes after Isaaq was refused entry, two white editors from The Link presented themselves at the ceremony without any accreditation–no press passes, no documentation attesting to a prior invitation were required. Once they announced themselves as media, they were instantly let in— no proof of identification was necessary.

On Oct. 28, the Task Force on

Volume 43, Issue 6 Tuesday, November 8, 2022 Concordia University Hall Building, Room H-645 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 advertising: 514-848-7406

Anti-Black Racism published its final report. The 97-page document contains recommendations, denunciations and attempts to reckon with the university’s anti-black past and present.

In an attempt to deliver on the first of the reports’ 88 recommendations, Concordia President Graham Carr apologized for the university’s complicity in the mistreatment and brutalization of Black students during the 1969 computer centre protests.

“Now we begin the hard work of delivering on these recommendations and strengthening our relationships with Black communities, on campus and in Montreal,” Carr told community members—and the cameramen who outnumbered them.

But who was this apology really for? If Black students were

barred from the room to witness an apology to their own community, the essence of such an apology is lost, and the first recommendation cannot be delivered on.

Carr, the head of an institution that brutalized Black students, apologized for the “harm” caused by these events, but to simply call it harm is a great disservice.

Reducing the university’s actions and inaction to “harm” trivializes the experiences of students who were imprisoned for weeks and physically assaulted by police. In the aftermath, many found themselves with permanent criminal records, were deported from Canada and continue to endure life-long trauma as a result.

The word “harm” does not convey the fear of being burned alive that dozens of Black students felt following the outbreak of a fire on the

ninth floor of the Hall Building in 1969. As the flames climbed higher, slurs were hurled at them in celebration of their potential deaths.

"This chanting of 'Let the n— burn,' you know… They wanted us to die. That you don't forget," said Lynne Murray, one of the Black students arrested by police during the protests, in the 2015 documentary Ninth Floor. Forty-six years between her arrest and her interview for the film, the wounds caused by the chants of the violent white mob remain open.

The most egregious part, or lack thereof, of Concordia’s socalled apology was the omission of the events leading up to the death of 18-year-old Bahamian student Coralee Hutchison. Murray recounted how Hutchison was beaten on the head by police batons, leading to the development of a brain an-

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Corrections for Vol. 43, Issue 5:

eurysm. Hutchison eventually died from the consequent brain trauma.

We cannot deny that anti-blackness is rooted in the foundation of Concordia University.

Excising it is a herculean task, one that requires more than sitting behind a desk and having a surface-level apology drafted.

It is easy to make considerable promises, but putting in the work needed to accomplish all 88 recommendations requires a serious, genuine commitment to anti-racism within the university's administrative body.

Being performative is simply not nearly enough when addressing such issues. The Task Force has been hard at work for over two years, and the time has now come to implement their recommendations.

One down, 87 to go.

GRAPHIC MYRIAM OUAZZANI AND NADINE ABDELLATIF

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In the advertisement “Upcoming Workshops at The Link!” p.4, Phil Authier’s last name was misspelled, The Link regrets this error.

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