Volume 44, Issue 5

Volume 44, Issue 5 • October 31, 2023 • thelinknewspaper.ca

"Every little cell in my body's well" Since 1980

CONCORDIA’S INDEPENDENT PUBLICATION SINCE 1980

The Death Issue

NEWS

Montreal students and faculty rally against tuition hikes Concerns regarding enrollment, funding and multiculturalism fuel pushback Leo Litke

@leo.litke

n Oct. 13, the Coali- deemed “too anglicized.” arguments or evidence behind able to. “I don’t really have a plan city's multiculturalism.

O tion Avenir Québec However, not everyone agrees this announced policy,” describ- for what I’m going to do now […] Sparrow added that by (CAQ) announced that with this sentiment. “Angliciza- ing the potential effects as “utterly because if they do double the tu- virtue of being educated tuition would greatly increase for out-of-province and international students studying at English universities in Quebec in fall 2024.

The government will double the tuition for incoming out-of-province Canadian students, as well as require universities to pay $20,000 for every international student enrolled. The money will be used by the government to support francophone universities.

Currently, Concordia students have three tiers of tuition rates. According to the Concordia Student Union (CSU), Quebec residents pay $90.84 per credit, outof-province students pay over triple their rate at $283.52 per credit, and international students pay $790 per credit. With a full course load of 15 credits, one semester of tuition is respectively $1,362.60, $4,252.80 or $11,850, before other university fees and expenses.

French language minister Jean-François Roberge argued that these tuition hikes are measures to protect the French language in Montreal, a city he

tion is actually an irrational fear that is used to mask not only the prohibition of education to poorer individuals but also to the broader English-speaking community,” said Alex O’Neill, a co-organizer of the Blue Fall protest against these tuition hikes.

The CSU, the Students’ Society of McGill University and the Bishop's University Students' Representative Council are all supporting the protest, alongside two student associations from the Université du Québec à Montréal: the Student Faculty Association of Political Science and Law and the Student Faculty Association of Science and Education as well as their sub-organizations, who are joining in solidarity.

On Oct. 26, Concordia English professor Nathan Brown published an open letter in support of the protests, criticizing Concordia’s Office of the Provost for their statement discouraging staff from participating. “I think that was a missed opportunity,” he said, adding that it is an issue that students, staff, faculty and administration should be united on. “I think we should be doing everything we can, at every level, to push back against this legislation.”

Brown isn’t the only Concordia staff member to voice their concerns. Jarrett Carty, the liberal arts chair at Concordia, expressed his severe concern about how this will affect his department.

In an email correspondence to the liberal arts college, he stated that “there are simply no sound

devastating” to specifically Bishop’s and Concordia. He noted that the immediate drop of students will severely impact Concordia’s Liberal Arts College, where outof-province students make up 30 per cent of enrollment each year.

“The fact that the universities only found out with the public is an issue of itself. There’s no transparency, there’s no clear communication,” said Noah Sparrow, another co-organizer of the Blue Fall protest. Since the government's announcement, the specifics of how this will affect certain groups is still unclear.

While it is reported that this will not affect research-based masters or PhDs, O’Neill is not convinced. “The word on the street is that they won’t be, but there are certain elements that are being communicated directly to the universities that conflict with that statement,” he claimed, mentioning what he has been told by an employee at McGill.

“There’s obviously a specific intersectional racial element to it,” O’Neill said. “We’re talking about the Middle East—specifically North Africa—as well as the French Caribbean, where there is cultivated talent. There are diverse perspectives that are obviously going to be afforded to other parts of Canada […] if this policy passes.”

Yasmine Wagdy, a prospective Concordia international student and fluent francophone, had hoped to start at Concordia next fall but is not sure if she will be

ition I don’t think I’ll be able to go,” she said.

A report by the CBC highlights that it is difficult for immigrants to learn French in a six month period of time. “I think French is a beautiful language, I speak French constantly and I think people around the world recognize that French is a nice language to learn,” said Davoc Beaupré, a francophone Concordia student. “I think that people are naturally curious, given the time and opportunity to be able to. I don’t see how you can twist [this policy] around to make it positive.”

English universities’ reactions to the tuition hikes could potentially limit current or potential students’ opportunities to learn French. McGill announced the suspension of a $50 million dollar plan to improve the French skills of its students and faculty, citing difficulty finding funding following the announcement of the hikes.

Bishop’s has stressed that the increase in tuition will have a major impact on the school, as a third of its student body is from outside Quebec.

During a press conference on Oct. 25, Quebec Premier François Legault stated that “the number of English-speaking students in Quebec threatens the survival of the French language,” describing the hikes as being difficult, but ultimately necessary.

“Montreal is an internationally renowned […] city for university students,” said Sparrow, who, along with O’Neill, attributed part of this reputation to the

here, he has immensely benefited from Montreal’s cultural diversity.

“I think international students complete the mosaic that is Montreal,” O’Neill said.

Brown is concerned about the announcement’s effects on the city as a whole. “We want that intellectual culture of the city to be as robust as possible and I think this legislation is a really short-sighted threat to that,” he said.

At time of writing, there is no information regarding how the hikes impact current students looking to transfer programs for next fall. Students are required to finish their degree in five years or less in order to retain their current rates.

A walkout organized

by O’Neill and Sparrow took place at 1 p.m. on Monday, Oct. 30. The walkout began at Dorchester Square before marching by Concordia and ending at McGill’s Roddick Gates.

UNIVERSITY STUDENTS AND FACULTY MARCH TOGETHER DOWN MAISONNEUVE STREET TO PROTEST THE TUITION HIKES. PHOTO MARTA MALVINA MOSTARDINI thelinknewspaper.ca

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • NEWS 3

NEWS

Montrealers create Palestinian safe space Activists push for justice in the light of government support for Israel Iness Rifay

@inessdagoat

aturday, Oct. 7 was an averOn the longer days, ChamsedIsrael has also threatened to lowing the Hamas surprise attack interest, if I even ever had it.”

S age work day for Ibrahim dine returns home to his pregnant bomb the Al-Shifa Hospital in two days prior.

Arielle believes that the only way Chamseddine. wife and three-year-old daughter at Gaza, the city’s largest hospiMasri said she doesn’t understand the government is going to do the He was in a butcher shop serving meat and chicken to customers. It seemed to him like they were going about their daily tasks “like nothing was happening.”

Chamseddine was not able to check his phone because he was working, but “[he] really wanted to hear the news (from Palestine) to know what was going on.”

“In this situation and in this moment, how come you can be there, living your life like normal?” he said.

In response, Chamseddine decided to initiate the daily Palestinian kiosk at Dorchester Square. After his work day, he drives to the location and sets up a black tent from which large Palestinian flags hang.

From 3 p.m. onwards, he hands out informational flyers to passersby, tapes keffiyehs to the surrounding benches, and invites strangers to converse on the situation in Palestine.

On Oct. 27, while Chamseddine hung posters around the tent, a woman walked up and asked what the initiative was for. A volunteer responded that it was to help raise awareness about the genocide in the Gaza Strip.

The woman stood silently for a while before breaking into sobs.

“I am Palestinian,” she said.

Since its launch, the response to the project has been consistent.

“People come hugging and crying, and beg for us to continue showing support, to not forget about Palestine,” Chamseddine said.

10 p.m. In the five years the couple has been together, “[he has] never been this far from [his] family.”

Despite this, Chamseddine believes his efforts are “nothing.”

“I should do more,” he said.

“People over there (Palestine) have sacrificed a lot more than that. As a human being, if you go to sleep while doing nothing, and you feel okay, that’s you. But for myself, I cannot go to bed at night, living my days while this is happening.”

On Oct. 27, Internet, cellular, and landline communication services in the Gaza Strip were completely lost following direct Israeli bombings on the area’s telecommunications infrastructure. Wounded people on the ground, for instance, were no longer capable of getting in contact with ambulance services. The Palestinian Red Crescent Society had “completely lost contact with the operation rooms in the Gaza Strip” and its staff.

On Oct. 29, the services were gradually restored by Paltel Group, the telecom company in Gaza, but remain unstable.

Following the destruction of the centre, air raids were increased and ground forces were “expanding their activity”, as intensive air strikes and artillery shells “could be heard at the same time,” according to Al Jazeera journalist Safwat Kahlout.

Regarding Israeli bombardment, Oct. 27 has been considered to be the “worst” since Oct. 7.

tal, which is currently sheltering 50,000 displaced Palestinians. The Israel Defense Forces (IDF) allege that “it acts as the main headquarters for Hamas’ terrorist activity” and they “will operate to uncover any terrorist infrastructure.”

“Seven thousand (Palestinian deaths) in three weeks,” said Hiba Masri, who decided to join Chamseddine in his initiative after watching him set up on Oct. 27. “And this is before they die of hunger and thirst.”

“I wouldn’t [have] forgiven myself,” she said when asked why she got involved. “Knowing what they’re going through, that kind of suffering. You’re watching all your loved ones be crushed by rubble.”

“I know this is happening.

How dare I stay silent?” she said.

“I don’t know what it is that I should do to make it stop, but I know I have to do things.”

Masri is half Palestinian. However, she shares how she’s “never felt a sense of identity” to Palestine until she “saw the response.”

“I realized how proud I am to be Palestinian,” she added. “When I saw doctors say that they’re not leaving their patient’s side, that they’ll just have to be killed instead. Seeing people with nothing still digging up rubble to help other people.”

“Is this what it is to be Palestinian? Then I’m Palestinian.”

On Oct. 9, the Israeli defence minister said that the IDF is fighting against “human animals,” fol-

how “anyone could believe this shit.”

“Do Palestinians not go grocery shopping? Do they not come home to their families and kiss their kids goodnight?” She hopes that “the humanity in people starts to wake up.”

On Oct. 27, the United Nations’ (UN) emergency session adopted a non-binding Jordanian resolution on the “protection of civilians and upholding legal and humanitarian obligations” regarding the crisis in Gaza. The resolution also calls for an “immediate, durable and sustained humanitarian truce leading to a cessation of hostilities.”

In total, 121 countries voted in favour of the resolution. Canada and 43 others abstained from the vote. The United States, Israel and 12 other countries voted against it.

Canada proposed an amendment “seeking an explicit condemnation of Hamas.” The motion was supported by over 35 countries, including the United States, yet did not pass as it failed to get support from two thirds of the member states.

“I’ve been feeling really helpless in regards to the response of governments, media and the UN,” said Arielle, a Montreal-based member and mobilizer with Independent Jewish Voices (IJV), who wished to remain anonymous for safety reasons. “I’ve lost a lot of faith in their willingness to listen to us and to act in our best

right thing will be through the consistency of pro-Palestinian activism.

“It’s up to us,” they said. “And that’s really scary. It’s really disheartening. It’s the foundation of Canada, being involved in colonial projects.”

Prime Minister Justin Trudeau “reaffirmed Canada’s support for Israel’s right to defend itself in accordance with international law” and that “Hamas terrorists aren’t a resistance. They aren’t freedom fighters. They are terrorists.”

“Folks need to understand that if they’re living in Canada, this is being done in their names,” Arielle said.

“By virtue of their government supporting it, either financially or morally, with their statements or UN votes, their support is in your name and supposedly in your interest,” they added.

Arielle reiterated the importance of getting involved in local activism for Palestine. Several demonstrations around the city have been organized by pro-Palestine activists and advocacy groups, gathering tens of thousands of supporters to bring about an immediate ceasefire.

“It will be a long march to freedom,” they said.

THOUSANDS OF PROTESTERS GATHERED AT THE GEORGE ÉTIENNE CARTIER MONUMENT ON OCT. 28 TO DEMAND AN IMMEDIATE CEASEFIRE IN GAZA. PHOTO FELIX LEGAULT 4 NEWS • OCTOBER 31, 2023

thelinknewspaper.ca

The Death Issue

THE DEATH ISSUE

Who deserves to live?

EDITORIAL

General content warning: The Death Issue addresses themes of self-harm, suicide, the death of family, friends, pets and other themes that may be hard to read.

t's exceptionally clear that say on the Principle of Population. He when applied to the complex fab- conditions or were elderly were without resources to afford Iequal not all people are created wished to control how poor people ric of humanity, have led to a col- left to die. They were deemed un- basic necessities from housin the eyes of our society. procreate through methods now de- lective othering of those deemed important and thus undeserving ing to food and medication.

Race, gender, class, national origin and physical ability often serve as determining factors for what is deemed "acceptable" long before we are even cognizant of the world around us.

Five centuries of the Western colonial project have created global systems of categorization and dehumanization, notably on the pseudoscientific basis of race science. These faulty categories have served to create classes of undesirables ripe for exploitation.

A collective term for various pseudosciences used to justify policies of forced sterilization, ethnic cleansing and genocide is Social Darwinism. These beliefs have led to people—most often people of colour, the poor, those suffering from mental illness and others deemed sub-human by those in power—being ignored or eradicated.

“The redundant population [...] must be repressed by occasional famines,” wrote English economist Thomas Malthus in his 1798 work An Es-

scribed as eugenics.

Malthus’ heavy philosophical impact on English society inspired Social Darwinism, aiding in its enactment into British Imperial policies of the 19th and 20th centuries. Even as Darwin himself was creating his theories of evolution, right-wing hardliners in England were weaponizing his allegedly neutral empirical scientific method to enact the dehumanization of millions.

Concepts like “natural selection” and “survival of the fittest,”

unfit for survival in a harsh world where only the so-called worthy can survive.

The notion that we need to compete for resources to survive crumbles as soon as we realize that there are already enough resources for all. They are just being hoarded by the wealthy ruling class.

Government policies coated with rhetoric of the “survival of the fittest” were made even more visible at the start of the COVID-19 pandemic. People who had certain health

of the time and resources necessary to keep them alive.

Billions in funding are donated annually for certain illnesses like cancer treatments, creating movements to fund research. In spite of this, some of the most prevalent illnesses in the Global South like leprosy, rheumatic fever, and trachoma kill millions every year, despite treatments being available. Some cost less than your morning coffee.

The mass social inequity propelled by this ideology has left many

From overcrowded emergency rooms in Montreal to underfunded refugee camps abroad, the impact of Social Darwinism can be felt everywhere.

When we initially began working on this special issue months ago, we could have never imagined what would unfold in the Gaza Strip over the last three weeks. It is beyond heartbreaking to hear the Israeli government dehumanize, degrade and massacre thousands of civilians. Despite this, The Link has never shied away from discussing difficult topics in difficult times.

The Death Issue’s purpose is to create a space for people to grieve and reflect on their values and relationship with life. We want to thank everyone involved for sharing their personal stories and reporting on how members of marginalized communities mobilize through their grief.

GRAPHC ADAM GIBBARD

6 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

thelinknewspaper.ca

THE DEATH ISSUE

Post-secondary students’ continued struggle with mental health Are universities doing enough to help students who are struggling?

NEWS

Ellie Wand

hen Concordia student be easier for students to access. “I just That pressure can lead to dire creased over recent years, but acHe explained that psycholW Gabriella Meyer tried to wish that they had enough counsel- consequences. In 2016, 13 per cording to a 2023 study by the ogists are paid much less in the access therapy via Concordia’s ors to offer people,” she said. “We pay cent of students surveyed for an Centre for Addiction and Men- public sector. “They'll come to mental health services, she was denied. “I got a message: ‘Sorry, we just have to triage different cases,’” she said. “I just basically got a message that they couldn’t help.”

Meyer’s experience may not be an uncommon one.

According to a 2022 report commissioned by the Canadian Alliance of Student Associations (CASA) in collaboration with the Mental Health Commission of Canada, one in three students reported that the mental health services offered at their universities did not meet their diverse needs.

Meyer accessed therapy through a program at McGill that allows graduate students to provide therapy to some willing participants. Still, she thinks mental health resources need to

a lot of fees and I feel like that should be something that’s covered.”

According to clinical psychologist Dr. Perry Adler of the Montreal Jewish General Hospital, mental health struggles among postsecondary students have always been prevalent, though they have gotten worse in recent years.

Adler pointed to a number of reasons for this, one of them being the increased difficulty to achieve the same lifestyle they grew up with.

“People now are having to work a lot more hours—get much higher education—to afford the same lifestyle as past generations,” Adler said.

“People are feeling more pressured to truly distinguish themselves academically, so they can get the highest level jobs, so that they can maintain the lifestyle that they hope would be equivalent to their parents,” Adler added. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

American College Health Associaion-National College Health Assessment said they had seriously considered suicide.

A 2020 study commissioned by the Quebec Student Union (QSU) reported that seven per cent of respondents had experienced suicidal thoughts, and that three per cent had attempted to take their own lives.

Luc Massicotte, Interim CEO of the Association Québécoise de Prévention du Suicide said that the COVID-19 pandemic resulted in more people reaching out for help, including students. “They (students) note an impact of online class and less contact with their friends and their colleagues in class on campus,” Massicotte said.

“But the good news is that there’s no more suicide since then and no more mortality or death by suicide.”

Canada’s suicide rate has de-

tal Health, Canada had the sixth highest suicide rate in 2019 when compared to 33 other countries in North, South and Central America.

According to the CASA report, which surveyed 2,000 postsecondary students, 75 per cent of students surveyed reported that their mental health had worsened due to the COVID-19 pandemic.

The 2020 QSU study, which surveyed 1,209 students across 17 universities in the province, reported that 52 per cent of respondents felt they needed psychological support, but that the majority of them did not seek help, citing lack of funds and time.

Adler said this is partly a result of an underfunded mental health system in the province. “The government is losing, or has lost, so many psychologists because they're being so grossly underpaid for their expertise.”

the top of pretty much $55 an hour, whereas in private practice, they earn between $150 to $400 an hour.”

But Massicotte believes there are useful programs out there for people struggling.

“Students can find some professional and available help easily in their university, but also in their region, communities, city,” he said.

“Don't be shy to use it and call for help.”

Keeping languages and histories alive

How researchers transform Indigenous language documentation into learning materials NEWS

Miguel Fowke-Quintas

@fowkequintas

RENÉ LEMIEUX LEAFS THROUGH A BILINGUAL CREE/ENGLISH EDITION OF KÂ-PÎ-ISI_ KISKISIYÂN / THE WAY I REMEMBER. PHOTO MIGUEL FOWKE-QUINTAS In 2019, Canada passed the Indigenous Languages Act, responding to a Call to Action from the Truth and Reconciliation Commission. The Act allocated $330 million to support projec for reclaiming and revitalizing Indigenous languages.

Dr. Sigwan Thivierge, a Linguistics and First Peoples Studies professor at Concordia, believes that linguistics training has an importthelinknewspaper.ca

ant role to play in Indigenous language revitalization.

“I want to bring more Indigenous people into the field and also make the knowledge that we already have accessible to community members,” Thivierge said, “It’s about bringing the community to linguistics, and bringing linguistics into the community.”

Thivierge herself is from Long Point First Nation in Quebec, an Anishinabeg community, as

well as a speaker and learner of Anicinabemowin.

Quebec is home to nine Indigenous languages, spoken by roughly 50,000 people—the greatest share of Indigenous language speakers out of any Canadian province or territory.

According to Statistics Canada, between 2016 and 2023, the number of First Nations language speakers fell by almost five per cent.

Article 13 of the United Nations Declaration on the Rights of Indigenous Peoples states that “Indigenous peoples have the right to revitalize, use, develop and transmit to future generations their languages.” The UN estimates say that an Indigenous language dies every two weeks.

In response, UNESCO launched the International Decade of Indigenous Languages last year. Linguists like Thivierge say that Indigenous perspectives are crucial to reclamation and revitalization efforts.

There is evidence of some language revitalization among First

Nations youth in Quebec. Statistics Canada revealed that in 2021, almost 40 per cent of First Nations children could speak an Indigenous language, a figure nearly three times higher than First Nations adults aged 65 and older.

René Lemieux is a researcher at Concordia, who works on the Awikhiganisaskak Project to create learning materials for Abenaki using 17th century dictionaries written by hand on parchment. “Often, we’re working with information given to us by missionaries, so we have to be conscious of the layers of ideology,” said Lemieux, explaining that the goal is to process the existing documentation and return it to Indigenous communities.

“Linguistics is a field that lends itself to extractive research methodologies,” said Thivierge. Historically, settler linguists and anthropologists would collect data about Indigenous languages and then compile it into academic tomes which were inaccessible to laypeople.

“Communities want documentation, they want databases, they want their stories to be kept alive,” Thivierge said.

“Yet, the data that does exist is not formatted for learners.

You open a random page and see nominalizing, or verb particles, and ask ‘What is this?’”

Learning Indigenous languages as living languages rather than only learning about them is crucial for the work of the Awikhiganisaskak Project, according to Raphael Bosco, a researcher for the project.

Reflecting on his experience as an Abenaki learner, he encouraged other settlers to take classes in Indigenous languages. “It helps with reconciliation of non-Indigenous people and Indigenous people,” he said. “Learning a language is always a way to see things from a different perspective.”

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPECIAL ISSUE 7

THE DEATH ISSUE

Canada’s disregard for Indigenous grief

How Canadian healthcare dismisses Indigenous cultural approaches to well-being NEWS

Claudia Beaudoin

@claudiaclx

n the face of grief, the purCambria Harris, an Ojibwa ac- sured Health Benefits—a pro“They come onto the reserves strangers—that is a Western Iloved suit of closure and dignity for tivist and member of Long Plain gram that provides coverage of and pull families apart, which is thing.” ones is a process one may First Nation, lost her mother to a health benefits for Indigenous just a way to break the communJacobs recounted an inseek to attain. For Indigenous communities in Canada, it's a privilege they have often been denied.

Within the heart of these communities, a network of healing and unity continues to flourish, going beyond what the Canadian government can provide.

The shortcomings in the justice system, as highlighted at the MMIWG2S+ vigil in Montreal on Oct. 4, serve as a reminder of the injustices endured by Indigenous communities, both physically and emotionally.

The healthcare system falls short of effectively tending to these issues.

Among the 94 specific Calls to Action established by the federal government in 2015 following the 2013 Truth and Reconciliation Commission, not one of the seven healthcare-related recommendations for Indigenous communities has been implemented to date.

This includes recognizing the unique health requirements of Indigenous communities, as specified in Call 20. The call to action encompasses the prevalent health concerns that differ between communities such as the higher rates of tuberculosis or mental health issues. It also involves incorporating their healing practices in their treatments, as outlined in Call 22.

A recurring theme among Indigenous families seeking help is the persistent experience of racism, discrimination or neglect when dealing with authorities. Those who muster the courage to reach out to health or judicial services often receive blame for the situation they are in.

Joyce Echaquan's death is an example of the persistent struggle of systemic racism within the healthcare system. Even after her passing, caused by an excess of fluids in her lungs, speculation of drug withdrawal continued to be used as an excuse rather than addressing the neglectful and racist treatment she received from healthcare professionals.

homicide in 2022. Her mother’s remains have yet to be found, as the police decided to halt their search of the Manitoba landfill where her remains are believed to be buried.

Harris said there have not been any services provided by the government for the mental toll this has had on her family. She continues to demand the action of authorities.

"Those [cases of neglect and discrimination] are the conditions where it makes it really hard

communities—tend to be challenging to access due to the rigorous paperwork and requirements, further alienating those in need.

In a flawed justice system, where healthcare systems are facing their own challenges, Indigenous communities struggle to seek recourse, which can create a pervasive sense of deficiency.

Delta Jacobs, a Kanien’kehà:ka artist, said when she navigated the healthcare system, she felt un-

ity because they know that’s our strength,” Jacobs said.

The solution social workers gave Jacobs’ three siblings was to take them to group homes at a young age for supervision.

While Harris was pregnant with her daughter, she said she was asked to undergo a psychological evaluation to assess if she was fit to be a mother.

“That in itself was stripping me away from my rights and telling me

DEMONSTRATORS GATHER IN SUPPORT OF THE SEARCH THE LANDFILL MOVEMENT. PHOTO DOROTHY MOMBRUN for people to heal or have closure because there's no justice and no social justice," said Dr. Catherine Kineweskwêw Richardson, a Métis scholar of Cree and Gwich’in descent and co-founder of the Centre for Response-Based Practice—a centre that aims to promote effective responses to violence for Indigenous communities through counselling, education, research and advocacy.

These systemic issues become even more concerning when examining the suicide rates for Indigenous youth. They are ten times higher for males and 22 times higher for females than non-Indigenous youth. “No one questions why those statistics are not changing, and that’s because of the government before us; they’re not putting their resources at the right places,” said Harris.

Health programs which already exist, such as the Non-In-

8 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

represented, emphasizing that she discovered comfort in art therapy as opposed to the more conventional client-centred therapy suggested by Western practices.

“The way they (most Western therapists) approach things seems so monotonous, medical and sterile for me,” Jacobs said.

Less than one percent of Canada’s physicians identify as Indigenous.

"Psychology is one of the arms of colonization," Richardson said.

She explained that individual-based therapy and diagnoses can oversimplify situations and people, failing to address the broader social injustices that affect communities.

Richardson also highlighted the issue of using psychiatric language from Western culture against Indigenous people. She said an example of this is the recurring issue of removing children from their parents based on perceived mental health diagnoses.

that I was going to fail. And that’s what Indigenous people get told all their lives; is that they have these statistics over their heads and that is all they will ever be,” Harris said.

She said she most struggled with mental health during her teen years. Struggling with suicidal ideation, she was often placed in crisis centres as a result. “They deemed me a high risk to society because I was running away from what they were throwing at me: homelessness and not having anywhere to call my own.”

While mental health is a deeply personal experience, it is crucial to acknowledge that communities still bear their own narratives, healing methods and distinct ways of dealing with challenges that remain suppressed within Canada’s systems.

Jacobs said that this is the same with grief and loss. “Funerals where you wear black and cry and meet

stance in 2018 when her grandmother passed away, noting that her loved one remained surrounded by family and continued to share laughter until her final moments.

“We deal with loss in a very communal way, because you’re not just losing a person, you’re losing a mother, an aunt, a friend. Everyone is connected to this person in so many ways,” Jacobs said.

Harris has been grieving her mother through ceremonies, one of them being a spirit plate, which she said is a way to connect with your loved ones by setting out a plate of food.

“You just have a conversation with whoever you’re trying to reach, it’s like a portal between this world and the nonliving world,” she said.

Richardson, who is currently partaking in grief workshops for Indigenous communities in British Columbia, explained that grieving is embedded in culture and is unique to communities.

“Our ceremonies offer the opportunity to sit in a circle, to cry, to be witnessed, and held up by other people; also invoking our creators, our ancestors and other spiritual support,” Richardson said. “Colonial violence has always been about destroying relationships and connections that are sacred for our well-being. Survival has meant that we have to keep going, and muster a certain strength—and one of the ways we did that was by not buying into individualism.”

Amid the relentless fight for transparency and justice for MMIWG2S+, another conversation remains relevant: the persistent failure of Western discourse and healthcare systems to adequately support Indigenous people in a myriad of ways.

“I am not necessarily [demanding action from the government] for closure, but to have my mom respected as a human being because she deserves dignity in death that she was not able to receive in the living world,” Harris said. thelinknewspaper.ca

THE DEATH ISSUE

Demystifying palliative care The Teresa Dellar palliative care residence, a place to make peace with the great unknown NEWS

Elena Meyer

nside a palliative care resi- stantial brain damage. She lost conDetail is key in palliative care. into caring for these patients and For Weil, hospice care emIspeaks dence, Laurence Najar sciousness permanently and lost The staff takes the time to get to families is so consummately pro- bodies a collaborative commitwith her mother Mar- the ability to speak or move again. know the person they're aiding. It's fessional, it can be easy to forget ment to caring for patients, their guerite, allowing her to share feelings and words they'd never exchanged before; unusual given that her mother is in an irreversible coma, but not unusual for the Teresa Dellar palliative care residence.

The residence fosters an essence of home, as families are gathered, laughing and chatting in cozy living rooms. The residence mirrors that of an ecosystem where everyone, including the patients and their loved ones, come together to make a plan that suits them best.

Palliative care is a medical discipline aimed at improving the quality of life for patients with serious—often terminal—illnesses. It primarily addresses pain management, symptom control, and emotional and spiritual support.

According to the World Health Organization, most adults in need of palliative care have chronic diseases such as cardiovascular diseases, cancer, chronic respiratory diseases, but also kidney failure or dementia.

Even if palliative care is a crucial part of integrated, people-centered health services, it stands out from other medical services. Unlike traditional medical care, which typically aims to restore health, palliative care stands as a unique branch where patients are admitted with the understanding that their condition is irreversible and that their health will not advance but deteriorate.

“You enter a unique type of service, where well-being and joy are, surprisingly, everywhere. Hospitals are usually clinical, cold and gloomy places, palliative care is different,” said Najar, talking about the residence where her mother underwent palliative care last November.

Najar’s mother suffered a stroke in 2016 and another in 2022. She was left severely disabled. Her condition worsened, and her electroencephalogram revealed subthelinknewspaper.ca

Her doctors declared her brain dead, and they decided that transitioning her into palliative care was the most compassionate choice for her and her family.

Because palliative illnesses are incurable, end-of-life care can be associated with suffering, dread and loss. For Dale Weil, executive director of the Teresa Dellar residence, it's the opposite: “People don't come here to die, they come here to live until they die, and our job is to make their life as good as possible based on what’s important for them.”

At the palliative care residence, the staff doesn’t just look after patients. They also give families the essential support they need during tough times. Given the limited time remaining for their loved ones, families find themselves spending significant portions of their weeks at the residence. The residence focuses on establishing a sanctuary where families feel safe and places significant emphasis on supporting them as they navigate their loved one's final moments.

“We’re dealing with death and dying all the time, but we’re also dealing with living to the fullest. I think it's a privilege to be able to help people at this time of their lives and make the grieving that goes on for those who stay afterward, easier.”

—Dale Weil

not just about their medical needs but about who they are, what they love and who matters most to them.

Cooks at the residence go to great lengths discovering the meals patients enjoyed during their childhood or the flavours of their home country. Caregivers even inquire about the specific laundry detergent used at their patient’s homes to ensure that the sheets and clothing carry a familiar comforting scent.

Hospice caregivers are committed to upholding the dignity of patients, especially during their final days. Najar was surprised when she walked in on a nurse having a full-on conversation with her mother. “[The staff would] explain the procedures and what they were doing, almost as if they expected a response,” Najar said. “It seemed a bit unusual and I wanted to tell them that it was pointless. I was both impressed and also knew that there might not be much hope left.

Still, it was clear that they believed in preserving the patients' dignity right to the very end.”

During her mother’s time in palliative care, Najar recalled that her connection with her mother deepened despite her unchanging condition. She explained how palliative care forced her to think about what actually matters.

“Everything is exacerbated because time is no longer a luxury we can afford. I had never taken the time to cut ties with the world and with my daily obligations to actually spend time with someone I love,” Najar said. “It was an incredible moment to reconnect with my mother and my siblings. It had been forever, perhaps the first time. We were here with her, sad, happy, we reminisced about a life well lived.”

It was also a moment where Najar was able to truly talk to her mother, and tell her things she never was able to before. “It's a deeply personal and liberating moment, where your connection with the other person isn't influenced by political, social, emotional or cultural factors,” she said.

Dealing with death takes a toll on families, but also on hospice workers, who deal with it on a daily basis. Because the attention put

the tremendous psychological and emotional burden that goes with being a hospice nurse.

Hospice workers do not remain immune to the toll of encountering death. According to Carey Andrian, a professor at the University of Colorado School of Medicine, healthcare providers in end-of-life care often have profound, emotionally challenging interactions with dying patients and their families.

This can lead to burnout, or make it difficult for workers to address the emotional and existential needs of the patient.

“We work hard to be able to support our team and the losses they experience. It's important that our team be able to express when they are having a difficult day,” Weil said.

Even if there are trying times, Maya Yeboah, a nurse at the residence, believes that this role requires individuals with a specific level of expertise to ensure the comfort of those under their care.

“It’s knowing that you won’t be back, knowing that you're leaving people behind. Leaving carriers, leaving goals behind. It's a very particular moment,” Yeboah said. “So we’re meeting these individuals at a time where they’re overwhelmed.

It's a privilege to be able to accompany patients at the end of their life.”.

families, and the staff involved.

“It most likely doesn't add days to [your] life, but it most certainly does add life to [your] days,” Weil said.

COURTESY TERESA DELLAR PALLIATIVE CARE RESIDENCE OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPECIAL ISSUE 9

THE DEATH ISSUE

Medical assistance in dying slated for mental illness update Proposed changes to MAID raise questions on governmental insufficiencies NEWS

I

Hannah Vogan

n June 2016, Medical Assistance in Dying (MAID) became legal in Canada. Canadians who were suffering an intolerable, naturally foreseeable death had the choice to have a medically assisted passing.

Presently, Canada is on track to adjust the legislation and expand the eligible criteria for MAID. Coming into effect on March 17, 2024, certain individuals suffering from mental illnesses will be eligible for MAID. The Canadian government refers to MAID as a “complex and deeply personal issue.”

The MAID expansion was set to come into effect in March 2023, but was deferred, and given a one-year extension to provide the government with appropriate time to “prepare for the safe and consistent assessment and provision of MAID in all cases.”

This new law will no longer require an individual’s natural death to be reasonably foreseeable.

Once the criteria to apply for MAID expands, Canada will be one of the few countries that offers access to MAID for those suffering from a mental illness as a sole underlying condition.

In 2014, prior to the inception of MAID, if Canadians sought a medically assisted death, they would have to make their case to the courts.

An example of this is the Carter v. Canada case, where a woman diagnosed with a fatal neurodegenerative disease challenged the constitutionality of the criminal code prohibiting medical assistance in dying. The judge found that these prohibitions violate the rights of “competent adults” who are suffering intolerably as a result of a grievous medical condition. The woman was granted an exemption to the then legislation.

Now Canadians will not need to withstand an intricate process to receive MAID—especially if they suffer from severe mental illness—they just need to meet the respective criteria.

@hannahvogann

A request for MAID must be hand-written, signed by an independent witness and must be requested after the individual is informed of their “grievous and irremediable medical condition.”

Two independent doctors or nurses must provide an assessment and confirm that the individual is properly eligible. The individual must also be informed that not only can they withdraw their request at any time, but also be informed of all the available and appropriate means to relieve their suffering: counselling, mental health and disability support services, community services,

which is when a physician or nurse administers a lethal injection. The second is self-administered dying, when a physician or nurse prescribes a drug the eligible person takes themselves.

Dr. Derryck Smith, a clinical professor of psychiatry at the University of British Columbia, highlighted that the idea around MAID is to give people the option to escape from unbearable and intolerable suffering. “I think the whole point about this legislation [...] is to show compassion for people who are suffering unnecessarily. Why do we want people to suffer?”

ges—believes MAID is a result of neglecting the living conditions of those with mental illnesses.

“People don't want to die, people don't want to live the way they do,” said Amir. “This [MAID expansion] is going to exempt us as a society from our obligation to change the living condition of those with mental illness.”

Amir offered the perspective that people with mental illness are often marginalized as the conditions of their circumstances can often be a root cause of their hardship—such as economic status, and environment. She added how MAID is a result of the government’s insufficiency of proper structures in place for those who are struggling.

“On one hand, [Canada wants] to be really progressive and egalitarian in the way everybody gets to decide their own autonomy for themselves, I feel like this is commendable. But it is really

GRAPHIC MYRIAM OUAZZANI palliative care and the individual must be offered consultations with professionals. The individual must have exercised every option to relieve their suffering, and immediately before the patient receives MAID, they must be given the option to opt out of their request if they so choose.

The period to determine an individual's eligibility assessment typically takes at least 90 days, however, if the individual is close to losing the capacity to make healthcare decisions for themselves, the period can lessen.

There are two ways in which MAID can be made available to Canadians, and both vary based on provincial guidelines. The first is clinician-administered MAID,

10 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

Smith believes MAID is an option that appeals to many Canadians. He referenced how in 2021 there were a total of 10,064 MAID provisions in Canada. From 2016 to 2021, the sum of those who received MAID was 31,664.

When it comes down to the expansion of MAID, Smith believes psychiatric illnesses should be handled in a similar manner to medical illness.

“Psychiatric illnesses is all a disorder of the brain,” Smith said.

“The brain is a part of the human body.”

Ella Amir, the executive director of AMI Quebec—an association that predominantly works with families who struggle with mental health challen-

not enough unless we look into the root causes of why people want to die.”

— Ella Amir According to a 2017 survey of 528 psychiatrists in Canada, 72 per cent of psychiatrists supported MAID in some circumstances, and only 29 per cent of that number supported MAID for mental illnesses.

Smith argued that the opinion of psychiatrists' shouldn’t matter on whether or not they agree with

MAID legislation, rather medical professionals should be prepared to administer the procedures when needed.

“This is not for doctors, this is an option for patients to have some control over the end of their life, the time and place of their death and how they are going to die,” he said.

“It is just an option, there is nothing mandatory about MAID.” Denise Lefebvre is a death doula in Montreal who accompanies people—and often their families—who are near death. She also provides advice and organizes the desired type of end-of-life.

They believe MAID can provide comfort to those who feel like they need an exit.

“Just knowing the procedure is there can be comforting,” they said.

Lefebvre has worked with families and people awaiting MAID, and reasoned it gives them more time to prepare.

“It gives them more [of] the impetus to plan, rather than deny,” she added.

With MAID, Lefebvre describes that just because there will be a set date and time of a medically assisted death, some might reason there is more room to grieve and say goodbye. However, “MAID or anything else isn't going to change that grief, it's going to change how you prepare for it,” they said. “[Preparing for death] is a celebration as much as preparing for a birth because you are not going to see this person afterwards.

Death is a wake-up call to us all to pay attention [...] if we truly cherish people, then let's celebrate them.”

AMI Quebec will be hosting a hybrid-panel on MAID on Nov. 2 from 7 p.m. to 9 p.m. at the Oscar Peterson Concert Hall. Amir emphasized that the goal of this panel is to shed light on the complexity of the issue, open up perspectives of the idea of MAID and further the conversation around it.

thelinknewspaper.ca

THE DEATH ISSUE

Mile-Ex’s Death of Vinyl on keeping records alive Co-owner Daniel Hadley speaks on the history and future of vinyl in Montreal FRINGE ARTS

Max Moller

@fckyoumax

he resurgence of vinyl T records is undeniable.

While sales are still down

from their peak in the late 1970s, they have substantially increased in popularity, with the Recording Industry Association of America reporting that they’ve even outsold CDs for the first time since 1987.

Whether it’s older collectors looking for a hit of sweet nostalgia or younger shoppers looking for a deeper connection with the artists they love, increasingly more people are coming to appreciate owning physical copies of music.

When record store Death of Vinyl first opened in the early 2000s, some may have been unsure of vinyl’s longevity. “Many headlines at the time were asking ‘is this the death of vinyl?’” said coowner Daniel Hadley. He said that Montreal vinyl shops, tailored for style-specific DJs that fueled the era’s nightlife, were closing left and right.

In 2006, Hadley and his business partner, Steve Ludvik, were running a vinyl import and distribution business out of a warehouse near the end of Beaubien Street West.

All of a sudden, they found their business model collapsing. Both their distributors and the stores they sold to were closing up shop, leaving their business directionless.

However, as one door closed, another one opened.

Hadley began to notice the resurrection of independent record stores—places that ditched genre-specific catalogues in favour of wider ranges of sounds. Without much to lose, in the spring of 2007, the two owners opened up a section of the warehouse for the public to shop in.

Their plan was music to customers’ ears.

By the fall of 2007, their new business model was so effective that they decided to

thelinknewspaper.ca

PHOTO MAX MOLLER set up shop in earnest.

When Hadley and Ludvik moved into their first location, a second-floor vacant nightclub, Death of Vinyl was born. By 2017, they moved to their current location at Beaubien Street East and St. Laurent Boulevard.

Despite Death of Vinyl’s longevity, Hadley noted how hard it can be to stand out in a city full of vinyl.

“Montreal has too many record stores, so things can be tight,” he said. Hadley added that despite the relatively thin profit margins, spending money on records for the store is the best way to keep customers interested, instead of diverting them to the competition. “You’re gonna find all the different styles here […] we’re the safest place in the city to discover things you’re curious about.”

The store takes pride in having a uniquely holistic organizational style. For instance, instead of sorting their 12-inch records by time period or location, they are sorted by the type of rhythm or instrumentation they have. “A lot of music from the 1980s and 2000s share similar sounds. So why sep-

arate them?” Hadley said.

Hadley also reflected on how the clientele at the store has changed over time. He referenced a chart he had made which showed each age group—from the Silent Generation to Gen Z—and how they might be purchasing music in each decade.

When the store first opened, they saw a mix of a few generations. Hadley recalled that the client base was mostly Gen-Xers, split into those who had never stopped collecting vinyl, as well as individuals who were rediscovering their love of collecting now that they had more time and money at their disposal.

He added that there were a decent amount of people in their teens and twenties who were discovering that they could own physical copies of music they loved for cheap.

Gen Z has also joined Death of Vinyl’s client base. Hadley said they are collecting more and more cassettes along with vinyls. He predicted that boomers and Gen X listeners would soon be selling off their collections to stores, and

that many Gen Z shoppers would benefit from this wide selection.

Florian Tonello, a customer of the store, agreed that vinyl is far from dying. “It’s coming back,” he said. “CDs died […] now the original versions of those recordings are back on vinyl.”

Tonello continued, saying that many chain stores that had stopped selling records were now getting them back in stock due to their profitability.

Another patron, June Skene, agreed that vinyl was definitely having a resurgence. Skene also mentioned that a lot of new music is being released as records, something which has not been common practice for a while.

Interestingly, Hadley noted that many vinyl buyers these days don’t listen to the records they buy. This was confirmed by a 2022 study conducted by Music Business Worldwide. The report showed that half of vinyl buyers in the U.S. did not own a record player at all. Skene was shocked after first hearing this statistic, but also understood why.

Hadley and Skene both men-

tioned that the value of owning a record can be the connection it gives the listener to the artist to the same extent as in the music itself. “If the stigma there goes away, the growth will be huge,” Hadley said.

Skene added that while they liked the availability of vinyl, they did not entirely like the way records are being seen as collectable items. Still, they acknowledged that most streaming services pay musicians a fraction of a cent per listen, and therefore, vinyl records are a good way to support your favorite band or singer.

“The problem lies in how the labels handle their artists,” said Skene. “I think the high price of new vinyl is sort of a byproduct of that.”

“People might just hold the record and look at the cover while listening to the music on Spotify, and there’s no shame in that,” Hadley said. “People need music for mental health.

Once you own the vinyl, it has value to you regardless.”

PHOTO MAX MOLLER

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPECIAL ISSUE 11

THE DEATH ISSUE

Ay de mí, Llorona, Llorona!

Celebrating Day of the Dead in Montreal FRINGE ARTS

Yael Tobón

@moonchildd02

s November approaches, to its strong smell, while pan de A Mexican households are muerto is a type of bread made decorated with cempasúchil with wheat flour, milk, yeast, salt, flowers and pan de muerto, all while nostalgia fills the city streets.

Day of the Dead, or ‘Día de Muertos’ in Spanish, celebrates memory, a ritual that focuses on remembering over forgetting. While in Mexico the celebration varies from state to state and even from town to town, it has the same principle throughout: bringing families together to welcome their loved ones who come back home.

Cempasúchil flowers and pan de muerto are two of the most popular symbols present in Día de Muertos— the former is believed to guide the dead through our world due

butter, a touch of anise, and orange or orange blossom essence.

Pan de muerto is a memorial of the deceased, decorated with two crossed strips of dough that symbolize the bones of the human body and sprinkled with sugar.

Jimena Almaraz was born and raised in Queretaro, México and Claudia Velázquez is from Mexico City. They both recently moved to Montreal due to their family's job change. The two agree that a perfect way to describe Día de Muertos to those unfamiliar with the holiday, is that it is far from sad.

Instead, the holiday embraces the memories of those who have passed on, as a way to remember the journey of the deceased through the world and one's life.

"You reflect on how you will transcend and how the people you love will remember you."

— Claudia Velázquez Art historian from the Universidad Iberoamericana Veka Duncan explained in a video essay that, “In Mexico, pre-Columbian cultures understood death as part of the inseparable duality of life. In pre-Hispanic times, death began with a journey through Mictlan (the kingdom of the dead) which the Spanish understood as hell. What we know today as the Day of the Dead was celebrated in the ninth month of the solar calendar. After the Spanish conquest in the 16th century, the concept of death was linked to the idea that exists in Christianity.”

Velázquez has been celebrating Día de Muertos each year since she was little.

However, the Almaraz family did not celebrate Día de Muertos until five years ago. "Now we get together to eat pan de muerto. My grandma makes hot chocolate, and we just like listening to my grandpa telling jokes and anecdotes about our dead relatives," Almaraz said.

A topic that came up frequently during The Link’s conversation with Almaraz and Velázquez was altars, or ‘ofrendas,’, which are central to the Día de Muertos tradition. Giving to deceased loved

ones makes them feel closer to family members and friends, making this tradition a sacred ritual.

“Día de Muertos is celebrated on Oct. 31, Nov. 1 and 2, dates established by the Catholic Church.

The souls of the dead return at night to enjoy the food and flowers that have been offered to them,” explained Duncan in her video essay. “Thus, the altar of the dead is a syncretism between pre-Hispanic and Spanish culture.”

Velázquez said her family fixes the altar with food their loved ones liked most: mole, pan de muerto, skulls made out of sugar, chocolate, coffee, sweets, tequila and wine.

Almaraz mentioned that although her altar showcases a picture of her dog who passed on, she warns others to be careful when doing the same. "Animals, especially dogs, should not be placed on altars if recently passed. They are spirits that guide souls to the other world, so if you put them in your altar too soon, their souls might get lost," she explained.

How an individual relates to Día de Muertos is unique. Almaraz’s perception of the holiday has changed since she moved to Montreal. She has learned to appreciate the tradition even more because she failed to fully embrace the holiday in Mexico.

"I truly miss it, especially as someone who has danced folklore (Ballet Folklórico brings together the music, dance and costumes of Mexican folklore, from pre-Columbian civilizations through the modern era) my entire life. It is nice to show what Mexico is like on dates like these and the reason for our festivities," Almaraz said.

The colours and cempasúchil are some of Almaraz and Velázquez’s favourite parts of the holiday. When Almaraz was younger, she viewed cempasúchil as a marker of time: she knew that when the flowers were all around

the city, Día de Muertos was near.

"It was one of those few times when my house, my city, and everything seemed to be in order. People see the day as something good. I really liked going out to see the altars, how people portray and remember their dead," Almaraz said.

When asked about a particular memory Velázquez keeps close to her heart, she brought up Calaveritas literatrias, satirical poems that critique or poke fun of the living individuals, which are written in school. "They were not mean, but rather funny. I find it unique that we make fun of death from a very young age," Velázquez said.

"The first time I spent the Día de Muertos with someone was with my ex-boyfriend [...] I took him to see the Día de Muertos altars downtown. He told me that he had never appreciated the traditions of Mexico before. I still thank him for allowing me to share my passion and appreciation for the Día de Muertos with him," Almaraz said.

Día de Muertos is a deep tradition that has ingrained significance in the hearts of so many people in Mexico and across the globe. Almaraz said she hopes readers can enjoy it as much as she does, even though she is far from home. "We see death as a legacy. Do not hesitate to investigate and enrich yourself with what Mexico has to offer; it is a lot of history, but I hope you can find the same colors as me," she said.

GRAPHIC ISOBEL BUDDING

12 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

thelinknewspaper.ca

THE DEATH ISSUE

When pets pass on From taxidermy to ashes, meet two pioneers in animal commemoration FRINGE ARTS

Gabrielle Laperriere Leblanc

@gabouts

hen a loved one passes for their departed special family Baril’s “Jack” is what she calls W away, certain steps sur- members, giving their customers her specialty: A rabbit’s head with rounding their death start to the choice to be present for the deer antlers placed on a wall. take motion. However, when it comes to the death of our four-legged furry friends, according to experts in the field, many people who are left grieving don’t know what to do.

Luckily, there are different services available in Montreal for pet owners who want a special way to commemorate their loved ones: pet cremation and pet taxidermy.

Founded in 1998, Petfriends is a cremation service for animals only. Situated in Vaudreuil, Petfriends handles the death of animals with as much care as they would people, accompanying their customers through the different steps and the overall grieving process.

“These days, a lot of young couples don’t have children, they have pets,” said Averil Robinson, founder and CEO of Petfriends. “And when they pass away, it feels like their child dying.”

Robinson said that the first thing one should do when a pet passes away is to reach out to Petfriends so that they can explain what the next steps are, and schedule a pickup of their pet, and talk about how the family would like to proceed. Petfriends also works closely with Vet Mobile to assist customers with larger pets.

“A lot of people, when they live through the hardest day of having to put their pets down—or the pet simply passes away—[they] are not informed on what they can do with the body and the services available to them.

For a lot of people, the services out there are also a luxury that’s not affordable,” Robinson said.

Robinson said how Petfriends passionately cares

thelinknewspaper.ca

cremation, having their pets cremated with their favorite toys or blankets and making the point that each pet is a different case.

Their office also has a family room, and a lot of their clients end up writing obituaries which helps with the grieving process.

“When I started this business 25 years ago, everybody laughed and said it would be useless,” Robinson said. “If you look on our website, we have so many beautiful testimonies [...] We had a family that flew in their dog from [the] Northwest Territories to use our services.”

For each cremation service customers pay for, a part of the money goes to the Lucy fund, a Canadian not-for-profit created

by Robinson. The Lucy fund goes to pet owners who can’t afford high veterinarian bills and could save the lives of their pets, lending an element of life in a business intertwined with death.

Another method that can help to keep the essence of your animal—add some artistry—is taxidermy.

Melissa Baril is the creative mind behind May Jackalope taxidermy, a service not like others.

Situated in Sainte-Béatrix, Baril’s atelier is filled with glamorous dead animals. Some are spray painted in bright colors, others wearing diamonds, eradicating any feelings of uneasiness or darkness around the death of those animals.

“When people think of taxidermy, they think of hunting trophies, deer heads and big grizzly bears placed in scary positions.

That’s not my work at all,” Baril said.

Baril has always been a taxidermy fanatic and collector. She started her business back in 2015.

Baril started practicing on rabbit skins acquired from breeders, explaining that those rabbits were only used for their meat and their skin was going to go to waste anyway.

“I started creating unique pieces and specialized in my ‘Jacks,’ as I was the only one designing those at the time. People really liked it and started asking for custom pieces. [...] I let myself be creative with those,” said Baril.

Baril said that taxidermy is already so rare, and primarily a result of hunting, therefore, people who want house-pets taxidermied go through her.

“I am an empath; I feel people’s grief when they come to me with their pets,” Baril said.

When it comes to the memorial services Baril offers, she said that customers will ask her to recreate their best friends in various positions: sleeping, sitting, on their beds and beyond.

“It’s important to know that if you would want a taxidermy of your pet, as soon as it dies, you need to put it in the freezer, as the skin will start to decompose. [...] I hate to have to turn people away, this process is very emotional for people,” Baril said.

Brigitte Malette and Billy D’alessandro contacted Baril about their late cat Mims. They explained to her that they would like to have their black and white cat on the piano in their home, where she used to sit.

“Even though it’s not the same as having [Mims] alive, it’s like her presence is still there and that feels nice,” Malette said.

COURTESY MELISSA BARIL

COURTESY MELISSA BARIL

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPECIAL ISSUE 13

THE DEATH ISSUE

then suddenly, the earth gave a strong loud boom FRINGE ARTS

Wajdi Sbeiti

@wajdi_sbeity

heavy are the ordeals flavourful of Ember riding the winds across the sea, the last sparks sink into the dirt-filled ground reaching for something unseen, the ferryman gathers its remnants to cross the path of pain, he pulls the shores back and forth searching for The Flame, his lantern’s light is waning, his thoughts and spirit numb, fly, little sparrows, leave your cage and Hum when you find the sun; in the darkness of the eclipse, the sun’s corona begins to slip

GRAPHIC MYRIAM OUAZZANI

On the trailhead home FRINGE ARTS

Isabela Marino

@_belamarino

Did you swallow the moon?

Pinned that you are to the ground.

Peel your belly from the soil.

I will brush off what’s embedded in the softness of your fur.

I ask for your name. I give you mine.

You do not twitch but slowly open your eyes. What has you here will keep you until you sink into the silt path. I wish I could scoop you up, bring you home.

But I am no match for the moon.

Your little eyes close again and your breaths shallow.

GRAPHIC MYRIAM OUAZZANI

16 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

Please, throw up the moon back into the sky.

thelinknewspaper.ca

THE DEATH ISSUE

Death the dog FRINGE ARTS

Zevida Germain

PHOTO ZEVIDA GERMAIN y dad got his first dog M when he was only seven. She was a wiry little white thing. Her ears pointed up to the sky and her tail curled to her back. As a puppy, she had spent her time running freely through the winding streets of Montreal until she ran face first into my father on his way

@Zeviduh

home from his first day of second grade. He scooped her up and begged his mother to let him keep her. Though his mother never said yes, the dog never seemed to sleep anywhere else but his bed for the next eight years or so, her brown nose twitching as she slept dreaming of tomorrow's next adventure.

Would they run together up the mountain? Play fetch along the river side? Or just lay in his bed for hours on end as he did his school work? When tomorrow didn't come, my father picked her little body off his bed, carried her past the rivers, and laid her to rest at the foot of the mountain.

My dad’s favourite dog was when he was 27. He had moved just outside of Iqaluit where he found a yellow floppy-eared mutt.

His paws were as big as baseballs and his fur so thick you could never see his skin. He was a bastard of a dog my dad would say; scrappy as hell and would try to

fight anything that stepped foot in his little arctic town. Five years in, my father stepped out of his house to find his dog fighting a whole pack of wolves who were scavenging through the trash, snarling, snapping, spitting and winning.

There was barely a scratch on his big yellow body when he chased off the last wolf, sending him whimpering away. He turned to my father barking wildly as his tail lashed back and forth. That dog fought many more times, until one day he found there was nothing left for him to fight. My dad had to call two of his friends to carry his great big body back to the wilderness that he came from, and for weeks after, the wolves were quiet.

My dad’s last dog was when he was 37. She was a floppy-eared shepherd; her body lithe and her fur so soft you could just melt into it. She came into the world as my father’s family grew, born on a farm off the coast of Nova Sco-

tia. Knowing every bit of her body soaked in the salty sea, and every ear, tail, eye; patch of fur grabbed, poked and prodded by tiny hands—and gentle to them all.

She used to run along the shore with his nieces, nephews, daughters and sons. Her steps light and bouncy, until inevitably little legs would give out underneath the weight of their own body. She’d sprint over and help them back to their feet, then let little heads use her as a pillow during nap time.

She was sweet as ever when they found cancer running its way up and down her body, and licked the tears off little cheeks as she watched the tide come and go for the very last time, leaning her face into my dad’s hand when she was put to sleep the next morning.

My dad was 62 when I got my first cat. She’s a pot-bellied tabby with long silky fur and a purr so loud it rumbles. My dad’s in Ottawa, but she’s in Montreal. She’s

a lazy girl who loves nothing more than to lay in the sun, stretch herself out and sleep.

I call my dad and I ask him if the fact he will never meet her bothers him much, and he says it doesn't. Fur sticks out in every which way between my cat’s paw pads and she bats at my arm when she wants to play. I say are you scared of death? He says no not so much anymore. She sleeps on my bed every night, smashing her face into mine every morning to say hello. I say are you happy with your life? Has it been a good one? He says yes of course I am, what haven't I done? My cat’s fur is patchy in places where she used to lick frantically before I got her.

She cries if I am in a place where she cannot follow.

Where will I bury you then?

And he does not respond.

Dear Willow A love letter to the world’s greatest cat OPINIONS

Ellie K. White

hen I was 12, I never She was there through every job, est friend was gone. The reactions to meet Willow, especially when people have with their parents W could have imagined all the bad roommates, to help from the people in my day-to-day he points to her picture and tells or siblings. I do hope that, how much a little fluff ball celebrate when I graduated culin- life were broad. Those who knew me he wishes he could give that eventually, people become would change my life.

On April 22, 1996, in New Westminster, B.C., I came home from school and was told that “the cat had her kittens on your bed.” I ran into my room and sure enough, there were four white balls of fuzz with a proud mama. As the kittens grew, I got to keep one for my very own. I named her Willow, after Warwick Davis' titular character—my favourite movie at the time.

I didn't have many friends growing up, and my home life was, to put it mildly, not the best. As I went through puberty, crushes, triumphs, and failures, it was Willow I turned to for love, comfort and support. A lot of little girls write in a diary; I gave Willow all my secrets for safekeeping.

When I moved out of my parents' house into my first cheap basement suite apartment, Willow came with me.

thelinknewspaper.ca

ary school and multiple moves.

Willow formed a special relationship with my boyfriend, now husband, especially after he and I moved in together. If she couldn't have me, she wanted him. They had an understanding, much like a sibling does for their sister's partner, and she teased him in much the same way.

When we moved from Vancouver to Montreal in 2016 so I could do my bachelors at Concordia, Willow made the trip with us at the ripe age of 20, her first and only time on an airplane.

As she aged, her body slowed down but her mind was still sharp.

She didn't jump or run, but she still loved her cuddles and conversation, to be quietly included, to listen to me reading my papers aloud and offering the best feedback through kisses and meows.

On Nov. 7, 2017, Willow died in my arms.

It was calm, peaceful and quiet.

I felt like a piece of my soul was torn from me; my oldest and tru-

me from high school were quick to offer comfort and condolences.

My husband and I had been together for about 15 years by that point. He loved Willow and had been her main caretaker, keeping her company as he job-hunted after we arrived. He poured his love into her well-being on the daily. He was devastated when she passed.

I had called the day off work, and my manager was sympathetic.

The coworker who was replacing my shift, however, was not. When told I needed the day off because I had to have my pet put to sleep, she replied "Can't you just come into work after? It's just a cat." At the time, I was beyond furious. Now, years later, I feel sad for her. She had never had a pet before, and I am sad that she has never had the experience of unconditional love like I had with Willow.

After I had my son in 2020, I developed postpartum depression, and began seeing a therapist.

One of the thoughts I struggle with is that my son will never get

kitty “a big hug and kiss.” I think Willow would have really loved and cared for him.

My therapist told me that the relationships people have in life are varied and unique. Willow, for me, was not merely a pet. She was emotionally my sister, and the only healthy family member I ever had from my original family.

I don't expect others to fully understand the bond we had, much like how I don't fully understand the relationship many

more empathic towards the love others have for their animal companions. It is an idea that Willow taught me: how to love without judgement. I will always miss her.

WILLOW IN THE BACKYARD. PHOTO ELLIE K WHITE

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPECIAL ISSUE 17

THE DEATH ISSUE

The After FRINGE ARTS

Fab Pilon

September 20, 2023 do you celebrate a HTheowfucked-up anniversary? pit is sweaty and loud and I would not want to be anywhere else. Up on stage, Hozier sings “if someone asked me at the end…”

Through the sea of people, my friend finds my hand and squeezes it.

September 20, 2017 The worst part of it is the aftermath.

When I was 16, I decided that was the last age I would ever be. None of it is very original. The existential angst of an artsy teenager. A first heartbreak. A self-hatred I didn’t even know was there. All I’d known was high school and I figured life would not get much broader than that. It felt very poignant. I figured I’d have one last shower and call it a life.

@just_f4b

Of the night itself, I do not remember much. A fleeting peace as I made a decision. My mom, who probably should not have been driving. The nurse asking awfully personal questions with a blank stare. My overwhelm so great it felt like physical pain on my skin.

The worst was the week after. That week, I will keep with me forever.

The thing about failing at killing yourself, is that you quickly realize how messy real life is. How even the grandest of gestures is not that fucking grand. In me was still that great emptiness. I did not wake up relieved to be alive. I woke up pissed and desperate to try again, and to succeed this time. But I also woke up to my parents angry, my teachers worried. To shame, and my life thrown upside down. For a while, it all got so much worse.

Feeling better snuck up on me.

That first weekend, my dad drove me up to our cottage in the Laurentians and taught me how to axe down logs of wood to get ready for winter. At school, I wore long sleeves through the warm begin-

ning of October. I did not find the words to tell my friends what happened, but they brought me chocolate all the same. Breakfast became my favorite meal of the day.

For months, everything felt unsteady. I wished so badly I could reverse time and get my old life back, before I called attention to myself.

At the same time, I wished terribly I could go back and get it right, this time. Concerned, the girl who’d broken my heart reached out and said “there’s no hurt in waiting it out five minutes at a time.” And so I did.

And so, five minutes by five minutes, feeling better snuck up on me.

September 20, 2023 I’ve listened to Hozier since before I was sixteen—before the proverbial fall. In the pit it is warm, almost suffocating, and when the guitar trails off I can hear the whole crowd singing. “…I’d tell them put me back in it/Darling I would do it again” And the drums rage on and I am crying and my friend sees me and smiles, their cheeks

stained too. The hurt is still there. Listening to those songs I’ve known forever, I remember too well how it used to feel.

But right next to it now, there is also a crushing happiness. A terrible joy in being alive. When I think about dying now, it is hoping that my five minutes do not run out too soon.

So how do you celebrate a fucked-up anniversary?

Every September, I feel the ghost of that awful aftermath looming as the date gets closer. As if my body remembered.

On stage, Hozier sings about rising from the grave and coming full circle. I stand exhausted, yelling amen with a whole crowd of friends. Celebrating. For one song— five minutes—feeling so alive.

GRAPHIC HENRY RICHA

Faiths and fears: How religion shapes my view of death Life is a moral journey; death's uncertainty scares me OPINIONS

Safa Hachi

the first day trol—that can be daunting. It may actions and intentions are weighed me feel as though eternal suffering Italk”remember my parents had “the death sound pretentious, but when all we in terms of good and bad deeds. loomed over me. It heightened the with me. I was about know is our own reality, it can feel as The values I've been raised with idea that if I didn't meet the expectanine years old, sitting in the living room and firing off a series of "why" questions.

Inevitably, the conversation veered into the uncharted territory of death and what follows.

What scared me more than dying itself was the concept of an eternal afterlife. I remember feeling a sense of impending doom, a tingling sensation at what "forever" could mean.

As someone who enjoys planning and trying to have some control over outcomes, the idea of not knowing what lies beyond this existence is a source of stress. It's the realisation that there is a power greater than us—beyond our con-

though we are untouchable, almost immortal.

My North African heritage has profoundly shaped my outlook, instilling in me cultural and spiritual values deeply rooted in the traditions of Islam. It is through my parents' teachings that I have learned and applied these cultural and spiritual influences—influences that prioritise the significance of life as a journey filled with trials and tribulations, which will ultimately lead to a determined afterlife.

This perspective instils a profound sense of purpose and mindfulness in my daily actions and intentions; however it also creates a certain level of stress and responsibility. It emphasises the need to lead a life that is morally upright since our

18 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

encourage reflection on the greater meaning of existence and a sense of responsibility towards others.

These teachings have helped me view death as a natural part of the human experience, while also adding a layer of significance to the way I approach each day.

My parents told me that when you die, your soul and body separate. Your body returns to its creator and your soul faces a period of questioning. The outcome of this questioning determines your experience in the grave until doomsday. More good deeds bring peace and comfort, while more bad deeds result in ongoing suffering for the foreseeable future.

This concept brought every mistake into sharp focus, making

tions set for me, torment awaited me until God deemed otherwise.

As I grew older, I began to question these beliefs. While I'd like to think I've largely moved beyond them, that religious guilt still lingers within.

In a world filled with the uncontrollable, the unexplained and the inexplicable, death stands as the ultimate mystery. It's a fear that permeates the core of my being, shaping the way I live and experience life. But perhaps it is through facing and embracing this fear that I can uncover the true meaning of my existence. It might just be the key to unlocking a deeper appreciation for what we have and to appreciate the beauty and fragility of life itself.

GRAPHIC SHAN OLIVIA

thelinknewspaper.ca

THE DEATH ISSUE

Like waves, grief never stops How my dad affects my life post-mortem OPINIONS

Lory Saint-Fleur

@itsjustloryy

COURTESY LORY SAINT-FLEUR ead dad. It’s a cloud that simple ignorance and forgetfulness.

D lingers over my head Grief sneaks up on me on the every day. most random days. From a TikTok Every day for the past two and a half years, grief has ruined my peace of mind.

Nowadays, I forget about it for a day or two, but simple reminders ruin my routine of

of a bride doing a first look with her dad, to a tall black man who bears a minimum resemblance, grief has a way to get you anywhere.

My father passed away from colon cancer in April 2021.

Killing Scarlet Coming out is an ongoing process, and therefore, the death of Scarlet is too OPINIONS

Scott Guy

GRAPHIC PANOS MICHALAKOPOULOS on’t get me wrong, I hate D hearing cis people say shit like “I don’t even know who you really are” after a trans person comes out to them.

But, in a way, transness requires a constant reckoning with life and death—not only because of the disproportionate amount of trans victims of violence, or because being visibly trans necessarily means you are becoming thelinknewspaper.ca

@saucyscotttt

more susceptible to discrimination. I’m referring to the concept of coming out as a rebirth of sorts.

My trans journey has been painfully long, but it is still ongoing. I’ve known that I was trans since I was six years old, when kids in the first grade constantly made fun of my last name, saying “‘Scarlet Guy’… do you wanna be a boy or something?” Six-year-old me thought didn’t completely disregard, let alone fully comprehend, that idea. “uhhhh maybe sorta kinda?”

I came out for the first time in eighth grade, and most of the people in my life took it as a joke or as part of a phase. I eventually went back into the closet and locked the door for a good four years, until I was comfortably, mostly privately, bisexual for the last year of high school.

Finally, in my second year of university, I moved into a four-bedroom apartment with other queer people. I gained

I always heard that there were five steps to grief. First come denial, then anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Grief is an everlasting circle of these emotions. For me, the angry stage came very early on, and it inhabited me.

I had to go back to work a week or two after the funeral. I remember sitting at the bus stop, looking at the cars moving, people walking, trees swinging with the soft wind and I just wondered how life could have stopped for me and not for anyone else.

How could I go back to my everyday life with this incredible weight on my heart? How can I keep on living my life, and feel happy and laugh? How am I going to graduate without him, cheering me on? How will I get married without him walking me down the aisle?

I was angry with myself mostly. I felt like we could have done so much more together; take more pictures, go on our dream trip to

Europe. I should have hugged him more often. I should have told him that I loved him more often, but I was a teen and puberty was putting me through hell.

I cherish the nineteen years that I had the pleasure to call him “Papi,” which is dad in Creole. I am simultaneously mourning the years that we could have spent together.

Happy moments that will be missed, birthdays, graduations and weddings. These happy moments are tainted by loss.

Every moment has somehow become bittersweet, tainted by the feeling of absence.

As days, months and years go by, I sometimes get scared that I am forgetting his voice or forgetting my limited number of memories that we have together. I am grateful to have witnessed the life that he lived, the dedication that he had to his family, and the love that he was able to spread to everyone

that he met.

This grief is a part of me. It makes me remember that life is short. Too short for regrets.

Too short to worry about everything. Too short to care about what others think.

This grief has made me hold the people close to me a little harder, and I believe that you should do that too.

the confidence to try out she/ they pronouns, which eventually became they/them pronouns.

Scarlet was still alive, but I’d shoved a knife in her chest. As an adult, it was finally possible for this pronoun update to be safely permanent. Thus began a journey, and a death, that are still ongoing today.

It initially felt weird being they/ them’d by people outside of my household, but it felt even weirder saying “Hi everyone, my name is Scarlet. I use they/them pronouns!”

While being visible was exciting, I was also saying goodbye to a past self who was hyper-feminine by definition. Scarlet isn’t exactly a gender-neutral name, especially considering its cultural connotations. I also constantly wore dresses and red lipstick and had my long, wavy hair on display at all times. Saying goodbye to Scarlet was difficult, not only logistically, but also emotionally, because she was who I had been for the last nineteen years.

Coming out as “Scott,” or changing my name, has been significantly more intense than changing my pronouns. I had recently also shaved my head, and I looked trans for the first time in my life. As if overnight, my transness became visible to everyone.

The first few weeks were particularly hard because I was taking French classes where, instead of having to explain ‘iel’—the French version of they/them—to 60-year-old men, I adopted he/him pronouns as a means of protecting myself.

After two months of living as the most authentic version of myself, I have made peace with being visible. Ultimately, I wouldn’t have changed my name if I wasn’t ready to constantly be perceived. But these first months have still been hard; and I am coming out, killing and grieving Scarlet every day.

When I started using the name Scott at the beginning of September, it did feel like a new start for me in many ways. At school, I was lucky that all of my professors either hadn’t known me as Scarlet or were not weird about my name change (my newly shaven head likely helped me here). It was easy to fall seamlessly into this new identity while maintaining a lot of the elements of myself that make me who I am.

At the same time, I have and continue to grieve Scarlet. Let’s be real—I was a really cute girl.

I was awesome at pretending to be cis. Sometimes I look in the mirror and reckon with being trans and desirable. I mourn the easy desirability that comes with

being cisgender. I mourn not getting stared at, I mourn not inciting double-takes, I mourn not having my identity questioned. There is security in being closeted, and coming out robs us of that security until we fashion new security in our authentic identities. Trans security necessitates trans joy.

It’s a long road to trans joy and trans security, though. We are not simply shutting the door on Scarlet and carrying on our merry ways, but rather closing the door on her gradually (and sometimes opening it back up again, depending on who we’re with or where we are). Coming out is an ongoing and never-ending process, meaning Scarlet’s death is as well; an ongoing and never-ending process, one that one that I we simultaneously grieve and celebrate.

COURTESY LORY SAINT-FLEUR

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPECIAL ISSUE 19

THE DEATH ISSUE

A legacy of love and spirits Finding solace in death through tradition OPINIONS

Cassandra Giron-Hernandez

@littlehouse___

l cadejo, a supernatural E spirit resembling a dog, is a prominent figure in Sal-

vadoran folklore. It roams around isolated roads at night and reveals itself to lonesome travelers in the dark.

There are two of these spirits you might encounter: the white cadejo with blue eyes or the black cadejo with red eyes. The white cadejo appears to travelers as a protector, keeping them safe from harm upon their journey. The black cadejo, however, comes as an omen of death; a sign that the traveler's journey has ended.

Those unfortunate enough to meet the beast are said to be driven to insanity by the dog’s hypnotic red eyes before meeting their untimely death.

This is my enduring vision of death: a ferocious, red-eyed hound relentlessly snapping at the heels of my loved ones.

My family was heavily involved in the Salvadoran Civil War—a brutal 12-year conflict that would eventually leave over 75,000 people dead and 8,000 missing from 1979 to 1992. Two of those victims were my mother’s older brothers: ‘mi Tio Jaime y mi Tio Napo’ (my uncle Jaime and my uncle Napo).

My two uncles, sanctified forever in our family’s eyes, stood as my inaugural heroes. In every one of our homes, those identical, faded photographs of two young men were a constant presence. They have been a staple of our hallways for as long as I can remember.

Even now, when I conjure images of my uncles, it's those photographs that surface in my mind: my uncles' eyes, unwavering, keeping a watchful gaze over me. I don’t think I ever felt fearful of death then, only sad.

GRAPHIC CASSANDRA GIRON-HERANDEZ My family’s mourning seemed neverending, and I, too, felt myself missing the family I had never met. They had been ripped away from us. Despite this tremendous loss, however, we found solace. My uncles became divine guardians and would protect us from harm.

There was great comfort in believing that someone I had never met loved me and was watching over me. My mother had been the first to share this belief with me. As time marched forward, I realized it was a belief we all embraced; a communal blessing we all got to partake in.

Believing in spirits is a typical practice in Latin America, with the Day of the Dead on Nov. 2 serving as the most prominent illustration. While the celebrations may differ across countries,

20 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

this holiday holds significant importance for many.

When people envision the Day of the Dead, Mexico's extravagant festivities often come to mind. While those are undeniably beautiful, I have a deep affection for the quieter and more intimate rendition of the holiday observed in El Salvador. Families gather at the cemetery, bringing flowers and food to commemorate the deceased relatives. In El Salvador, cemeteries are adorned with vivid colors and, somewhat ironically, exude a lively atmosphere.

Both my parents go out of their way to send flowers back home, a tradition they have never let go of. Even here, we try to visit the graves of my grandmother and great-aunt and leave them their favorite flowers. The idea

of carefully selecting the perfect bouquet for a departed loved one has never struck me as odd; rather it has always felt like a natural gesture. I offer this gift to convey that I continue to think of them, or, at the very least, to avoid the unsettling thought of being haunted by an elderly Latina woman.

Throughout the years, I've encountered skepticism regarding my beliefs: how is it that I don't subscribe to any organized religion, yet still hold faith in spirits?

The answer doesn’t come to me easily. I’ve had moments wondering if I’ve blindly put my trust in a ghost story.

I choose to believe in this supernatural form of everlasting love. As we grieve, our love for those who have passed away is not buried with them. The love we have for them finds new ways of manifesting itself: through stories, cherished memories or acts of kindness in their honor.

I never knew my uncles in life, and yet their impact on my life has been undeniable. The stories shared of the two men who sacrificed everything for the daughters and sons they knowingly had to leave behind have made an indelible mark on my heart and soul.

All my actions have been driven by the deep gratitude I hold for those who have passed away.

I have experienced love and loss, but I've also found something in return. A smile graces my face every time I don my grandmother's rings or wear the necklace gifted to me by my cousin.

Even more significantly, I find solace in the enduring sense of security they provide. Their love was genuine, and I continue to feel it, even after their passing.

If our love for someone can endure beyond their passing, why should we doubt whether their love for us could do the same?

Might love not persist in an altered state in the realm beyond, taking on the guise of a protective spirit or perhaps even, embodied as a large white dog?

thelinknewspaper.ca

THE DEATH ISSUE

Why I didn’t ask for help My history with mental health stigma OPINIONS

Yasmine Chouman

@ya5min.e

he white picket fence house: found skill I developed so young, with nothing changing after the T the grass was always green I was quickly able to tell when fact, which left me feeling conand trimmed, the garden was my emotions weren’t a priority. I fused and hopeless. full of colourful flowers, and there lived a perfect family of four. But then you walk inside, and you notice something is off. Looking out, the grass is less vibrant and unkept, the flowers are shrivelled up, and the perfect family is in four different sections of the house. The power of illusion, am I right? Anything can look okay on the outside but be dying on the inside.

Growing up in chaos, I learned to internalize big feelings to ‘keep the peace’ in my home. As a child, you can sense when tensions are high, you learn to pick up on body language and the change in tone; all the little details. Through this new-

didn’t feel safe expressing myself.

I became accustomed to tending to other people’s emotions, like my parents', and disregarded my own. This would lead to countless dark nights, filled with the sound of my silent cries, desperately wishing that someone would wipe away my tears. But, alas, there my head lay on my tearsoaked pillow.

This followed me into my early adulthood and translated into me feeling like my emotions held no value. I didn’t feel worthy of asking for help, let alone receiving it (depression and trauma will do that to you). The times I had the courage to ask for help and to be listened to, I was met with being told that what I felt was wrong or

I was scared to be vulnerable with someone just for me to feel more alone in the end. It felt like my words didn’t matter. So, I stopped trying to be understood.

Masking how I felt became my expertise. “I try to act happy most of the time, but I’m actually not really,” wrote 13-year-old me in my purple bedazzled diary.

This deep-rooted sadness has been growing within me since childhood and has stayed with me throughout my life. I never thought it would go away, regardless of whether I talked about it or not. “So why talk about it?” I asked myself.

I was in survival mode; acknowledging how I felt and asking for help was not at the forefront of my mind. I woke up, sighed,

GRAPHIC SAMANTHA LEPINE brushed my teeth while dissociating, got ready with stomach pain, somehow got through the day, went to bed thinking about how I was going to escape for the next few hours, and then repeat.

I would get in depressive states that I didn’t realize were debilitating, until someone found me in the middle of one, unable to move on my bed. I remember my body feeling a thousand pounds heavier, my eyelids not having the strength to stay open, breathing felt like a task and I couldn’t speak more than one word. At this point, I knew I needed to get help. I couldn’t keep disregarding myself.

Now, at 20 years old, I can say

that I have learned to allow myself to lean on the people I love for support. I healed through words. Reading, talking in therapy, journaling when my thoughts were screaming at me, and opening up to friends and family about my struggles have really shown me that we don’t have to go through everything alone.

Talking about how you feel is healthy, it allows for deeper connections with people and with yourself. To anyone struggling right now, you deserve to feel supported and loved. Talk about it.

Despite the previously described feeling of being cheated, I take pride in seeing my former peers still taking to the field at the university and even professional level.

I find myself chuckling while writing this graph as I reminisce specifically about a guy named Liam, whom I ran into last year while he was a part of the McGill Redbirds men’s rugby team. He had just finished a game against the Concordia Stingers and it was pouring rain; this didn’t stop us from exchanging the sweatiest hug imaginable.

After roughly eight years of retirement, I believe the turbulent final campaign is what led me to a career in sports journalism. The relatability of what it means to leave everything on the field is not lost on me. But before journalism, there were other pursuits—further bargaining—to fill the void in the absence of youth sports.

I tried studying athletic therapy but found that I was more interested in hopefully joining a championship team because I knew medical staff get an (incred-

ibly valuable) championship ring along with the rest of the team. I thought about data science, but it was much like the former profession.

Journalism is now where I find myself. The obstacles of funding and participation should not interfere with someone's desire to play a sport they love. This is why I advocate and try to report on stories involving diversity, equity, and inclusivity within sports and recreation.

So, no. I’m not a professional athlete. But I’m also not that 15-year-old holding on to the remaining pieces of a season wasted anymore. I guess there is some degree of semblance as a result. Through the death of my career, I found myself born again as a journalist who wants to tell these stories; and in that regard, I see myself going pro.

The death of a career Hanging up my cleats at 15 still haunts me at 23 SPORTS

Conor Tomalty

PHOTO CONOR TOMALTY ’ve covered U Sports comIyears. petitions for over two Stepping on the Con-

cordia Stingers’ turf field fills me with nostalgia from my playing days.

It’s why I appreciate the university athletes strapping up their pads. What I never reveal is the underlying feeling of grief that still manifests itself eight years after I hung up my cleats.

Let’s get one thing straight, I knew I wasn’t going pro. But quitting football at 15 encapsulated a final thelinknewspaper.ca

@Conor_Tomalty

year to forget—and one that I wish I could redo.

I took over the role of quarterback, the most difficult position in the game. Our roster had thinned out thanks to low participation numbers. Combined with my six-foot frame and arm able to launch a ball 30 yards on a rope, I led my Lakeshore Cougars team to a whopping… 2-8 record.

Frustration does not begin to describe the year-long feeling I had. It not only lent to my issues with self-confidence, but the criticism I endured as a youth was unimaginably vitriolic. Let’s just say watching game film on mute was preferable compared to hearing the 40-something-year-old drunken dad working the camera complain about every slight blunder our offence made.

My final game came in the playoffs; we were handily defeated 64-0. After our opponents balled out, I bawled my eyes out. Despite the state of denial that I had lived in, I knew it was my last game as soon as the final whistle blew. Denial would not be the last stage of

grief I’d endeavour.

I bargained by planning to join another team in the following year, but the realities of being able to afford—both monetarily and time-wise—a gym membership was highly unlikely. My anger came as I felt cheated in my final year, and compared to my peers who were able to continue.

I was depressed, feeling that countless hours of practice and dedication had amounted to nothing in the blink of an eye.

I still participated on high school teams, but not for football, and not with much organization, given John Rennie High School’s own problems with structure and participation numbers. Secondary school sports eventually felt like an additional letdown.

Besides the lack of accomplishment, it was my teammates I missed most of all. You know those friends that even after years of not seeing them, you can pick up a conversation like nothing has changed? When you play organized sports, that’s the majority of your teammates.

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPECIAL ISSUE 21

THE DEATH ISSUE

"With Respect to Death and the Art That Comes With It"

This playlist is composed of mellow songs correlated with the idea of grief, passing and rebirth. “With Respect to Death and the Art That Comes With It” is interwoven with two poems submitted by contributors, and two public domain poems which showcase the complexity of the circle of life. Treat this playlist as an experience, and for optimal enjoyment The Link urges you to listen in order.

Resources: The Death Issue Suicide resources Call - 1-866-277-3553, 514-723-3594 Text - 535353

Therapy Healing in Colour, Directory of BIPOC therapists https://www.healingincolour.com/ Project 10, 2LGBTQ+ wellbeing ages 14-25 https://p10.qc.ca/ https://affordabletherapynetwork.com/online-therapists/ AMIQuebec - https://amiquebec.org/

22 SPECIAL ISSUE • OCTOBER 31, 2023

thelinknewspaper.ca

SPORTS

Vanessa McKinley: Fueled by competition and adversity The Stingers pitcher’s pursuit for success in a historically male-dominated sport Alice Martin

@_alcmrtn

PHOTO ALICE MARTIN anessa McKinley had always versity with a baseball program, V craved to compete at the col- but found herself choosing Conlegiate level. cordia’s team—led by head coach She figured an appropriate avenue would be to play college softball, thinking that her true love of baseball wasn’t a possibility for women. However, she is now making that dream happen as a relief pitcher for the Concordia Stingers baseball team.

McKinley started playing softball when she was ten years old.

After her last year of softball in grade eight, she ultimately decided to make the switch to baseball, where she took up the position she now holds with the Stingers.

“I was like, ‘Okay, well, no girls are playing baseball, so I guess I should get good at softball,’’ said McKinley. “Then, I started to see girls were making it happen (playing baseball), and I was going to be one of those girls.”

Coming from Burnaby, B.C., she had sent emails to every unithelinknewspaper.ca

Howie Schwartz—because they seemed the most serious about her. “Howie offered me a spot without trying out, which was a big deal,” she said.

“The year that she wanted to come to Montreal, she heard about the fact that we were very open to having women participate in the sport,” Schwartz said.

While women are underrepresented in varsity baseball, McKinley is the second woman, after Bridget Kelly, to play for the Stingers. Kelly played second base and outfield for the Concordia baseball team before graduating.

“I feel like they really understood how to handle a girl on their team, because they already had Bridget on the team,” she said. “I knew it wasn't for publicity or anything, they wanted me to come play there.”

Schwartz, who has a tradition of connecting potential recruits with established players to get a better sense of the program, did exactly that with Kelly and McKinley. McKinley said that connection and reassurance helped her adjust quickly and effectively in the program. “[Kelly] was always someone that I knew I could always talk to, before I even got there. Because you never really know how the guys are gonna be,” McKinley said. “They (the men) were awesome, but knowing that she was going to be there when I arrived, it really helped me. I think she was excited to have another girl on the team too.”

She admitted to being “horrible” when she began playing baseball, yet her unwavering passion for the game is what motivated her to persist.

“Everyone looks forward to something that they love. Everyone has one thing that makes life better, and for me, it was baseball,” said McKinley. “I got a lot better because I just loved practicing.”

For McKinley, being a woman in the sport has not always been a walk in the ballpark. She recalled getting odd looks from parents who weren’t used to seeing a woman on a baseball team. The situation is seemingly improving, she added, as more women are taking up baseball.

However, McKinley still notices additional pressure.

“Being the only woman at any of the games this year—because there's no Bridget and there are no other girls on any of these teams—I feel like there's more eyes on you,” she said. “Some of them are hoping that you don't succeed, but a lot of them are hoping that you do succeed. Feeling [that] support is really nice.”

McKinley can attest to the challenges other women face, having played on the all-girls baseball provincial squad, Team B.C. “Every girl who's played baseball usually has a story about one coach or one parent who wasn't okay with them being there,” McKinley said.

In recent years, women's representation has increased in baseball. Notably, Alyssa Nakken has been recently hired by the San Francisco Giants and is the first female full-time coach in MLB hist-

ory. Before parting ways with the Miami Marlins, Kim Ng was the first female general manager. At the varsity level, Olivia Pichardo was the first woman to play Division I baseball for Brown University. “[Women] have to work so much harder than the men, of course. Their every move is under scrutiny, everyone's watching them. There are such high expectations because they're the first women to do this,” McKinley said. “I feel like there's a lot of trailblazers right now and when there are more women who worked so hard to shove their way into those positions, it makes it easier for all women.”

McKinley is one of these trailblazers herself.

This summer, McKinley coached an all-girls U14 baseball team. She said that for these players, having female coaches is a different experience. “[The girls I coach] see these women within coaching positions and it's making them more ambitious. They realize that they can do it too,” McKinley said.

Schwartz praised McKinley’s competitive fire, but also her accurate arm, a tool that was championed by Stingers catcher Thomas Savard as well.

“As a pitcher, [when] she's called on the mound, she's able to throw strikes. I know that if I'm putting my glove in a spot, she will hit it,” Savard said.

This season, McKinley appeared in five games, pitched a little over eight innings and recorded five earned runs against. “She had exceptional control and threw mostly strikes,” Schwartz said.

She finished the season with an ERA of 5.42, which was inflated due to one bad outing against the McGill Redbirds. Without it, Schwartz calculated that it would have been under four.

McKinley said she was happy with the progress she had made since her first season, notably getting her first win with the Stingers.

“I got the game ball, so that was a really big moment for me. I think I'll remember that for the rest of my life honestly,” she chuckled, recalling the memory fondly .

Schwartz emphasized McKinley’s importance on the Stingers’ team.

“I'm very happy to look down into the dugout and see her there.

I like her as a person and I love having her on the team,” Schwartz said. “The fact that she's a woman is certainly something I'm very much aware of and sensitive to, but that's not why I'm happy. I'm happy because of what she can do, how much she loves the game and how much you can contribute to the team.”

VANESSA MCKINLEY STANDS WITH HER STINGERS TEAMMATES IN THE DUGOUT ON SEPT. 13 AT GARY CARTER FIELD. PHOTO ALICE MARTIN OCTOBER 31, 2023 • SPORTS 23

SPORTS

Meet the Concordia women providing representation for young girls in sports Concordia’s Women Who LEAD panel discussed the challenges that women face in sports Emily Douris-Blondin

@emily.douris

JESSICA RUSNAK, EMMY FECTEAU, JULIE CHU, KATRINA MONTON LISTEN AS TENICHA GITTENS (LEFT TO RIGHT) TALKS DURING THE WOMEN WHO LEAD CONFERENCE ON SEPT. 24 AT THE JOHN MOLSON SCHOOL OF BUSINESS. PHOTO EMILY DOURIS-BLONDIN oncordia’s Women Who LEAD and that it shows that hockey is She works on interpersonal conMonton emphasized the im- tion, the creation of professional C initiative held a conference at not just for men. However, there nections with her team because portance of representation be- women’s leagues also facilitates the the university on Oct. 24 which discussed the struggles of applying to be a coach, managing expectations and why representation matters.

The panel consisted of Stingers women’s hockey head coach Julie Chu, Stingers women’s basketball head coach Tenicha Gittens, organizational psychologist and former member of Canada’s women’s national water polo team Katrina Monton and women’s hockey captain Emmy Fecteau. Jessica Rusnak, sports columnist at CBC Montreal, moderated the event.

Rusnak first highlighted that women are starting to be seen more in coaching positions, especially at Concordia when three out of four women’s teams have female head coaches. However, she reminded that the majority of coaching positions tend to be held by men.

Chu believes there are not many women in coaching roles because they are less likely to apply for positions they are not entirely qualified for, while men apply regardless.

Gittens agreed with Chu that women feel the need to check every box and doubt themselves if they are missing one of the criteria. She shared that she had that mentality when applying to be the head coach of the women’s basketball team.

Female coaches can be very important for players. Fecteau told the audience how fortunate she is to be coached by women,

have been occasions where referees have assumed male staff are head coaches.

“I used to have an assistant coach that was a male, and he was awesome,” Chu said. “But when [...] the referee didn’t know any of us, they would automatically go to him, assuming he’s the head coach.”

This bias women experience is tied into the history of sport, Monton said. She explained how men created sports for men, but added that women are slowly starting to break those barriers down.

“If you look back to the first Olympic Games, it was a battle to the death between two men to see who goes to war,” Monton said.

Women have to exceed expectations, in addition to dealing with the bias in sports. Gittens discussed that people always expect you to win games and championships as a coach, so players and coaches need to set their own expectations.

“Something I tell our players is, ‘You can never get too high because life will humble you very quickly, and you can never get too low because there is still life,’” Gittens said. “I think if you define what success looks like for yourself, it’s easier to manage those highs and lows.”

Coaches need to be able to manage these fluctuations to properly support their team. On top of that, Chu said coaches need to balance the amount of toughness and love they give their team.

24 SPORTS • OCTOBER 31, 2023

everyone needs to know each other to work well together.

“When you build relationships—and that’s the core of what we are, and who we are—then we can [have] tougher conversations when needed,” Chu said. “We can also know when we have to give a little extra love because we can see what that player is going through.”

Rusnak asked Monton about the parallels she sees between management in sports and management in the workplace.

“It teaches you how to work with others, manage others, manage your emotions, deal with high-pressure situations, deal with loss, deal with not getting your way,” Monton said.

For Gittens, being the best coach possible involves staying true to herself. Gittens also knows young Black girls are looking up to her as she is one of only four Black women coaching at the university level. Rusnak asked Gittens if it affects her leadership and if she takes on more of a role model position.

“I think if you’re authentically yourself, you’re genuine, then people will gravitate towards that.

I never set out to be a role model, I just wanted to be myself and lead my program and these young women I’m blessed to coach every single day,” said Gittens, referring to players from the Stingers women’s basketball team who sat directly in front of Gittens during the panel.

cause young girls can dream of becoming professional athletes or coaches when they see more women in these positions.

Gittens shared how representation helped her believe she could be a coach.

“I gravitated towards the people that look like me because it made me believe that I could actually get there,” said Gittens. “I was lucky enough to be coached

by Felicia Legette-Jack at Hofstra University, who is now the head coach at Syracuse. I was coached by a Black woman and I knew that I could do it because she’d done it.”

While the increase in women holding coaching positions provides much needed representa-

pathway for women to continue their playing careers. The WNBA continues to expand. A Canadian professional soccer league for women will begin in 2025. The Professional Women’s Hockey League will start in January 2024 and will create more opportunities.

“Most of us dream of becoming a professional hockey player,” Fecteau said. “We thought it was going to be in the NHL, but it’s not really possible. So, I think the new league is a good opportunity for all of us. The young girls will see that it’s possible to continue playing hockey and that maybe we’re gonna be paid as much as the men in the future.”

EMMY FECTEAU TALKS DURING THE PANEL. PHOTO EMILY DOURIS-BLONDIN thelinknewspaper.ca

FRINGE ARTS

Music fundraiser for the children of Gaza raises over $7,000 Silent auction and local bands concert to donate to the Palestine Children’s Emergency Relief Fund in Montreal Julia Cieri

@_juliacieri

PHOTO MENEL REHAB n Oct. 23, a benefit concert Mary Kate Edwards, who was free Palestine” and “No Justice, O and silent auction was held a participant, was an example of No Peace” as he walked off stage. at La Sala Rossa to raise funds for this reality. “I’ve been trying to Lotayif, a poet, has advocated humanitarian aid efforts in Gaza.

All the funds are to be donated to the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund, a well-established organization that was recommended to the organizers by many Palestinians, and that provides free medical care to children in the Middle East regardless of their nationality or religion.

Jack Solar, news manager at CKUT Radio and booking agent, was the lead organizer of this event. They created this show to provide an outlet for people who feel paralyzed by the recent events in Gaza and their inability to lend aid. “I know that there are people in town who want to help but don’t know how to,” they said. “Setting up something that allows people to help brings in a huge amount of support and reaction.”

PHOTO MENEL REHAB thelinknewspaper.ca

figure out little things that we can do. It's paralyzing; the grief and witnessing things on social media,” she said. “I think when traumatic things are happening, it can be really jarring.”

Solar believes in making a big buzz because the people in Gaza need to know that the world is listening, that people support them and believe in their liberation. “If we can make a little bit of noise here, hopefully, some echo of that makes it to them.”

Walking into La Sala Rossa, items for auction from over 100 local businesses, bands and makers adorned the gallery. Solar said that books and literature about liberation were set up for sale, as well as a table of brand merch donated by local bands.

Solar received overwhelming reactions and messages from people wanting to donate their time. “People are really desperate to help and so I know that we’re going to raise a lot of money,” they said. “It's going to show the Canadian government that we do really care about Palestine and we don’t want our tax dollars contributing to a war against a civilian population.”

The concert started with a poetry reading in Arabic and English by Ihab Lotayif. Listeners stood in silence, empathetically grieving, then chanted “Free

for Palestinian rights for a long time. He has visited Gaza many times and he tries to get people to understand the gravity of the situation. “It's the responsibility of us all to really bring justice, not to bring more hatred,” he said.

Lotayif believes that every word counts and any approach can enlighten somebody about the issue of justice. “I think the people of Gaza today need whatever kind of help they can get,” he said. “They are facing a ruthless attack that is supported, unfortunately, by so many governments that claim that they respect human rights.”

Ibtisam, a participant of the event, believes that this is a humanitarian cause before anything else. “We are just all humans, I think that we need to support each other no matter our culture, our religion and our beliefs. We just all belong to life.”

People in attendance were appreciative and awed by the amount of people who came and the type of event that took place. “It's beautiful to see the diversity of people who are here to support,” attendee Laura Sortie-Maurel said.

Sortie-Maurel attended the event with her friend Alida Liliane. “We are extremely saddened by all that is happening, it is ab-

PHOTO MENEL REHAB solutely devastating,” said Sortie-Maurel. “We need to be able to stand up for people that have the same blood that we bleed,” said Liliane. “We are all here for peace.

We don’t want anything else.”

The event carried on with artists eager to amplify their voices, standing in solidarity in front of a banner on stage that read “From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free.” The night ended in success, as Solar announced they had raised more than $7,000.

Tamara Filyavich, coordinator at Independent Jewish Voices Canada, spoke on stage in solidarity with Palestine. “To Palestinian friends, family, everyone [...] you are not alone and you will never be alone.”

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • FRINGE ARTS 25

FRINGE ARTS

We Are Witches Isabella Presley We are born from the Mother, The air we breathe brings life to our roots.

And our roots are what keeps us here In time.

The past cannot ever change Who we are.

For we have the fire within us.

The fire used to burn us, we Consume it.

We are the witches From the past, present and future.

You only need to seek out, A woman’s true Nature.

Born from fire, From ashes Anew, Magick flowing like blood in the Womb.

Happy Halloween from The Link's pets

ALPHONSE

THUNDER

QUIQUI 26 FRINGE ARTS • OCTOBER 31, 2023

SOBEK

ROCKY

MARCO

NIKITAH

CANNOLI

ZOE thelinknewspaper.ca

EDITORIAL

GRAPHIC PANOS MICHALAKOPOULOS

Keep The Link alive blending of old and new” were This is because our mandate face one major roadblock above With our Board of Directors’ alternative to pay our workers “A the first-ever words printed in of advocacy and accountability all: funding. permission, we were able to give fairly. This would be an existential The Link on Aug. 22, 1980.

Our paper’s debut editorial declared the merger of The Loyola News and The Georgian, two campus newspapers with incredibly rich histories spanning decades.

Such a feat had never been seen in Canadian student journalism.

Forty-four volumes of campus reporting later, our little publication has left a permanent imprint on the face of news in Canada and abroad. Hundreds of student reporters who called The Link home, now work in virtually every major news outlet in the country. Countless awards and accolades aside, we have consistently demonstrated the power of the student press.

Volume 44, Issue 5 Tuesday, October 31, 2023 Concordia University Library Building, Room LB-717 1400 de Maisonneuve Blvd. W. Montreal, Quebec H3G 18 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

in the face of hostile institutions remains as strong now as it was many years ago.

In recent years alone, our coverage of labour disputes, the university’s financial matters, sexual assault on campus, student protests, international students’ rights and other matters of extreme importance have resulted in direct policy changes from Concordia.

Despite our successes, we still face many issues internally. Some things have unfortunately stayed the same at The Link. Challenges like the disappearance of advertising revenue, Meta and Google's social media news blockade, and the ongoing inflation crisis have been a thorn in our side. But we

The Link’s last fee levy increase took place in 2001. Students agreed to pay $0.19 per credit in exchange for the vital information we provide the Concordia community.

Ever since, our budget has stayed stagnant, only made worse by inflation and the loss of ad money.

Editors and contributors at The Link are volunteers who are paid an honorarium for our work. Before emergency reforms were taken in the summer of 2023 to address our labour concerns, editors were paid an average weekly honorarium of $110 per week. This amounted to between three and four dollars per hour for the average editor.

editors honorariums that reflect the Quebec minimum wage for the duration of Vol. 44. We also created a fund to directly pay every single contributor for their content. This pilot project, however, is temporary. To ensure our workers are paid the literal bare minimum, we need your help.

From Nov. 7 to 9, the Concordia Student Union’s (CSU) by-elections will be taking place virtually and on campus. The Link is on that ballot. We are asking for $0.40 per credit, adjusted yearly for inflation. All undergraduate students can vote via a link that will be sent by the CSU in their emails.

Without your vote, we will be left with no long-term sustainable

The Link is published fourteen times during the academic year by The Link Publication Society Inc. Content is independent of the university and student associations (ECA, CASA, ASFA, FASA, CSU). Editorial policy is set by an elected board as provided for in The Link 's constitution. Any student is welcome to work on The Link and become a voting staff member.

Material appearing in The Link may not be reproduced without prior written permision from The Link.

Letters to the editor are welcome. All letters 400 words or less will be printed, space permitting. The letters deadline is Friday at 4:00 p.m. The Link reserves the right to edit letters for clarity and length and refuse those deemed racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, libellous or otherwise contrary to The Link 's statement of principles.

BOARD OF DIRECTORS 2023-2024: Voting Members: Katy Brady, Caroline Marsh, Jordan Lee Jerome-Pitre | Non-Voting Members: Adam Gibbard, Zachary Fortier TYPESETTING by The Link PRINTING by Hebdo-Litho.

CONTRIBUTORS: Fab Pilon, Elena Meyer, Zevida Germain, Leo Litke, Emily Douris-Blondin, Julia Cieri, Isabella Presley, Scott Guy, Lory Saint-Fleur, Safa Hachi, Cassandra Giron-Hernandez, Yasmine Chouman, Claudia Beaudoin, Miguel Fowke-Quintas, Ellie K White, Ellie Wand, Max Moller, Isabela Marino, Wajdi Sbeiti, Yael Tobón.

House Ads: Panos Michalakopoulos Covers and Poster: Autumn Darey, Lyna Ghomari

Corrections for Vol. 44, Issue 4: In “Student sent to hospital after SARC counselling session” p.4, a previous version of this article, there was an error in the percentage of dissatisfaction with SARC services. The article claimed the rate of dissatisfaction was 70 per cent. The statistic was incorrect. The Link regrets this error.

threat to the paper.

We need your help, Concordia community, now more than ever.

If you want to support student journalism, hold the Concordia administration accountable, and help our editors pay rent and buy groceries, please vote for us.

Four decades since we launched, our commitment to serving this community has never wavered. We will continue to do so in even greater ways with this budget increase. A vote for The Link is a vote for a better future in student life. Help keep us alive.

Editor-in-Chief ZACHARY FORTIER Managing Editor AUTUMN DAREY Coordinating Editor ANTHONY ISSA Creative Director MEIJI GRACE ESTRADA Co-News Editors MARIA CHOLAKOVA INESS RIFAY

Features Editor HANNAH VOGAN Outreach Coordinator PANOS MICHALAKOPOULOS Fringe Arts Editor GABRIELLE LAPERRIÈRE-LEBLANC Sports Editor ALICE MARTIN Opinions Editor OPEN Photo Editor DOROTHY MOMBRUN Video Editor DANA HACHWA Graphics Editor MYRIAM OUAZZANI Copy Editor CONOR TOMALTY Operations Manager ADAM GIBBARD Systems Administrator SHREYA SAVANT Bookkeeper MIKE TALAMANTES Distribution GUY LANDRY

In “Students denounce double standards in Concordia’s Israel-Palestine statements ”p.6, a previous version of this article stated that Palestinian students were never contacted. The International Student Office (ISO) sent resources to 30 Palestinian students. The Link regrets this error.

In “Editorial: Andrew Woodall needs to resign” p.18, a previous version of this article stated that Palestinian students were never contacted. The International Student Office (ISO) sent resources to 30 Palestinian students. The Link regrets this error. thelinknewspaper.ca

OCTOBER 31, 2023 • EDITORIAL 27

YOUR NEWSPAPER NEEDS YOU SUPPORT INDEPENDENT STUDENT JOURNALISM

VOTE ‘YES’

ON THE LINK

CSU BY-ELECTIONS NOV. 7 - 9 CHECK YOUR EMAILS VISIT US AT:

linknewspaper

thelinkmtl

TheLinkNewspaper

thelinknewspaper

thelinknewspaper