The Queen's Journal, Volume 150, Issue 21

Two former athletes start healthcare clinics in Kingston

Aimée Look

Assistant News Editor

Sometimes, when clients find it hard to express their feelings, psychologist E.L. Adams will switch on a song.

Adams told The Journal he grew up listening to ’80s music, country, and Motown. He uses music in his practice to help clients to delve into past experiences and connect with others.

“It can be difficult to see, reframe, or feel connected—given people’s circumstances,” he said. “A lot of times with mental health, people feel like their situations are unique, and they feel isolated, they feel ashamed.”

He thought of implementing music into his sessions while writing his thesis. Dissecting the lyrics of a song can lead to bigger conversations without making someone feel spotlighted in sessions.

Adams said many people gravitate towards music. It’s the “common denominator” that connects us—it’s a unifying art form.

He started as a marketing major at St. Francis Xavier University, but he said after taking a mandatory forensic psychology course, a light bulb went off. His interest in hearing peoples’ stories made him switch his major to psychology.

While completing a master’s in education and counselling psychology, Adams realized he wanted to support young people in challenging situations.

“Growing up, I had a tribe and a crew around me, like a real village that raised me,” Adams said. “We never had riches. But I always had the currency of love and unconditional support. I didn’t realize a lot of people didn’t have that.”

Adams started his clinic,

‘An explosion of global cyber threats’

Aimée Look

Assistant News Editor

The Queen’s IT team faces tens of thousands of cybersecurity threats to systems every day, according to Marie-Claude Arguin, Queen’s chief information officer and associate vice-principal (IT services).

Queen’s is changing its multi-factor authentication (MFA) system through the Microsoft Authenticator App on Feb. 27. The authenticator app will send two-digit numbers to the device the user is logging in with, and those numbers need to be inputted to log in. The app will now display the location of the authentication request.

Frequently updating MFA

ELA Psychology, in 2019 to have more flexibility and creativity in his work.

Jonathan Daniel, MSc ’07—Adams’ best friend—started JD Physiotherapy in 2014.

When treating a patient for physical ailments, Daniel usually chats with them to see if there are any other root causes of the injury that are inhibiting recovery, such as a mental block.

Seeing the need for Black-owned mental health services in Kingston, Daniel encouraged Adams to move and join his wellness clinic.

“I thought [ELA Psychology] would fill a lot of gaps, especially in the Kingston community, just to make people feel more comfortable if they want to chat with a person of color,” Daniel told The Journal.

According to Daniel, there’s an underrepresentation of Black-owned mental health services in Kingston for many reasons.

When BIPOC students see professionals in roles they aspire to take on, it becomes more possible for them to achieve those goals, Daniel said.

“It strengthens the whole community to have Black business owners—especially mental health is so needed [right] now,” he said.

For clients, being able to speak with someone they feel comfortable with is important, Daniel says. He believes making healthcare as inclusive as possible will benefit the whole community.

“I’m really passionate about getting these Black-owned businesses out there and making people realize that we’re here,” Daniel said.

“It’s not just about servicing other Black individuals. That’s not what it’s not about at all [...] We want to serve as the community, we love this community, [and] we want to make it as strong as possible.”

He believes if Kingston improves its diversity, it will also strengthen Queen’s.

JD Physiotherapy and ELA Psychology currently work with Student Wellness Services at Queen’s to provide healthcare for students. In tandem with Black-owned health services,

systems is one way to protect systems and data against attackers by confirming the identity of users in multiple ways, Arguin said in a statement to The Journal. Queen’s made MFA mandatory for students, staff, and faculty in 2021.

IT systems—especially those at universities—faced higher threats since the pandemic, Arguin said.

Some threats are blocked by automated tools, while others require oversight from the Security Operations Centre and IT teams across Queen’s.

“The COVID-19 pandemic triggered an explosion of global cyber threats in both number, ferocity, and complexity,” Arguin said.

Queen’s faced higher levels of unusual traffic from Russia and “malicious” cybersecurity activity in February 2022, Arguin said.

Story contined online...

queensjournal.ca/news

Black-owned health services support racialized communities

Daniel said Queen’s is moving forward.

“Queen’s is changing and championing these businesses and supporting their alumni who own these businesses,” Daniel said.

As a Black mental health care professional, Adams said he relates to the experiences of Black individuals—but we all come together when working through mental health issues.

“Given there are different perspectives to our lives, it is possible for us to point out different approaches that might be helpful for those of the same race or colour, and also for those who are not,” he said.

Each person comes in the door with a blank slate, regardless of race or identity. Adams is African American and said his Black experience differs from other Black individuals’ experience.

He emphasized the importance of understanding, listening, and leaving your assumptions at the door. According to Adams, mental health hasn’t always been a trusted practice in the Black community.

Providing representation is important to allow everyone to see themselves in whatever role they want to be.

“We’re all united in our mental health. We experience it very differently, but I think the unity of our trials and tribulations really helps us connect and understand one another.”

Anxiety is very common among university-age students, and Adams addresses anxiety by trying to find the root cause. From grades to future ambitions to family issues, it can be hard to pinpoint a direct source of anxiety.

Low self-concept—which encompasses self-image, confidence, and esteem—is also common among university students, he said.

Adams sees many athletes struggle to balance the work and school load in his counselling sessions. As a former collegiate athlete himself, learning when to “push through” and when to take breaks helped him not become overwhelmed in his work life. He said he learned time management and how to be task-oriented through sports.

According to Daniel, they work together to help injured athletes in the healing process, where physical ailments are heavily related to their psychological state.

When Daniel speaks with

his physiotherapy clients, he assesses whether incorporating mental health counselling into the healing process would be beneficial—especially as Adams works primarily with children and young adults.

Continuing to be a place where people can truly benefit and grow is what Adams wants ELA Psychology to be going forward. Being non-judgmental is a big pillar of Adams’ practice—as is firm honesty.

“People are coming, they’re trusting that they can open up and be transparent and be themselves without the judgment,” he said. Providing a space where people can be “real” with themselves and replace their old habits with new ones to better themselves is how Adams fuels the support he received growing up into his practice.

“I think growth comes from clarity, change in comfort. If you talk long term, I would hope people could grow from their experiences and their sessions with me in some way, shape, or form.”

journal_news@ams.queensu.ca

PHOTO BY HERBERT WANG

ELA Psychology and JD Physiotherapy offer mental health counselling.

The University encouraged students to complete cybersecurity training.

PHOTO BY MAX YI

SUPPLIED BY KEEPUPWITHKINGSTON.COM

In conversation with Tianna Edwards

Blog founder advocates for Black stories beyond February

Alessia Iafano Contributor

To challenge us to look at Black stories and culture beyond February, Tianna Edwards is working to demonstrate Kingston’s capacity to cultivate a place for Black folks.

Born and raised in Kingston, Edwards is the founder of “Keeping Up with Kingston,” a blog dedicated to exploring Kingston, sharing her love of food, and re-discovering love for her hometown. She also works at Queen’s as an Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, and Indigeneity Coordinator at Yellow House.

Growing up, she said she loved school but was aware of the role she was assigned: the designated Black girl. It was that presumed role that built her interest in the narratives surrounding Black people in Kingston—specifically that there weren’t any.

“If I’m not going to subject myself to some of the inconveniences that come with being Black in a predominantly white town, how can I expect anyone else that looks [like] me [to] want to move there?” she said in an interview with The Journal.

In the 2000s, the only stories she and her white classmates were told about Black folks were through the Black Entertainment Network and rap culture. It was this one-sided image of Blackness that forced Black folks to either fit into this narrative or be misunderstood, Edwards said.

“Black culture is not only rap culture. Black people are normal people and that is our experience.”

Once Edwards graduated high school, she was excited to leave Kingston and got out very quickly. She reflected on her experience in Kingston and the perception of Black culture being pushed by Black media companies at the time.

“At the time, the only reference

QUFA and Queen’s agree to tentative deal

Asbah Ahmad Senior News Editor

After eight months of bargaining and negotiations, Queen’s University Faculty Association (QUFA) and Queen’s University have come to a tentative deal with respect to their labour contracts.

was Black music, but I didn’t like to perceive myself through that lens. Looking at Black media companies, I found myself asking why it is not nuanced,” Edwards said.

This formed the building blocks of her undergraduate thesis, which was on the misrepresentation of Black culture through Black media.

There was a massive shift in Black representation following the rise of social media and the election of former U.S. President Barack Obama, according to Edwards. She said there was an opportunity to openly challenge that narrative and build a nuance to Black culture.

“That changed and opened the opportunity for the narrative to expand. This was 2009, there wasn’t representation of Black people that aren’t rappers […] It has come leaps and bounds for Black people that get to be represented.”

Edwards came back to Kingston after 10 years outside the city. When she thought about returning, she wasn’t sure what Kingston would be like.

She built “Keep Up with Kingston” as a way to fall back in love with Kingston. She loved the Toronto food scene and started looking for the go-to food blog for Kingston. Upon learning there wasn’t a blog, Edwards was inspired to create a blog to inspire re-discovery of Kingston as an adult.

“[The Black-Owned Business List] encourages people to bring the February-ness all year round. People should keep these businesses in mind when they’re trying to find ways to support.”

While Edwards said she has no major goals for the blog, she does have a section dedicated to her passion: the Black community in Kingston. On her blog, she has a list of Black-owned businesses she encourages her readers to support, for example.

”It is not just about allyship, but [it] means that Black folks can see that Black people live in Kingston,” she said.

Following the murder of George Floyd in 2020, Edwards had an overwhelming response from people asking

about her experience and what they could do.

“A lot of people reached out to hear my experience. I told then that this is bigger than me and it’s a lot of people’s experience.”

Edwards is continuing to fight the misrepresentation of Black culture through her master’s in Cultural Studies. Through this work, she asks different questions, and focusing on who is telling the stories on Black culture, as well as the role of colonialism in that narrative.

Her research asks why people only know certain things about Black culture, and who is pushing the current narrative. It’s now her mission to dismantle white supremacy in education to expand the possibility of that narrative, especially now as a mother of two daughters.

“Cultural studies is about curiosity and digging a bit deeper. It focuses on the root of decolonizing education and perceptions and who is telling stories, which is completely different.”

Edwards’ graduate project is working on a podcast highlighting

Black folks living in Kingston. The goal is to fight the narrative that Black people don’t live in Kingston.

Speaking to her work at Yellow House—a safe place on campus for QTBIPOC students—she said spaces like it didn’t exist on campuses when she was applying to university.

Through Edwards’ role, she helps plan events and communications to help cultivate community and show that QTBIPOC students belong at Queen’s.

Edwards’ favorite part of her job are the events, and she’s excited to be able to work on more events once she returns from leave.

“If you think the responsibility doesn’t lie with you to educate yourself on making Kingston a better place for people of colour, you’re wrong,” she added.

“For those of you doing the work to raise awareness and having the hard conversations, thank you. And months from now when the news cycle has passed, I hope you continue to do the work.”

A QUFA alert and social media post announced the deal on the evening of Feb. 10. In the alert, the union mentions many outstanding issues have been resolved, including agreeing on a three-year term from July 1, 2022 to June 30, 2025. A strike has been averted.

“We have made substantive gains in EDII and for Librarians and Archivists, and we have successfully resisted University concessions on copyright, teaching day, and requirements to engage in applying for research grants,” the QUFA alert said.

Annual pay increases— known as ATB increases—were successfully negotiated at rates hovering around three per cent, according to QUFA. The base stipends of adjuncts will see an increase in the new deal.

In the same alert, the bargaining team thanked QUFA members for their engagement in the process and for the strike vote and solidarity actions. They also extended thanks to the executive team and job action committee.

In an online update, the University said they’re pleased the tentative agreement has been reached with QUFA to renew the collective agreement. Both groups—Queen’s and QUFA— must now ratify the agreement.

Black History Month is about challenging one’s own biases.

Black History and Futures month programming transcends campus

Events across Kingston involve full community

Asbah Ahmad Senior News Editor

Black History and Futures month is more than just a month; for many, it’s a time for introspection and engaging in critical dialogue.

Understanding Black history as a foundational element of Canadian history is an important facet of the month, according to Jermaine Marshall, inclusion and anti-racism advisor at the Human Rights and Equity Office (HREO).

“Every year we try to have a big opening ceremony with a lot of different components involving Black affinity groups from Kingston high schools and partners including the City of Kingston and the local Black community,” Marshall said in an interview with The Journal.

Last week, Queen’s held an opening ceremony on Zoom outlining this year’s theme of recognition, justice, and development. Live poetry was performed by Abena Beloved Green, seeking to engage folks in a meaningful, thoughtful, and celebratory start to the month.

“In a day and age where people think everything is settled and figured out, a number of industries have racial biases, from the medical industry to corporate Canada, and even schooling and education,” Marshall said.

“We’re at this place where

Sophia Coppolino

Assistant News Editor

Queen’s administrators discussed police presence during large events, sexual assault on campus, and supporting Palestinian students at the Equity Town Hall hosted by the AMS Social Issues Commission.

Queen’s students were offered a seat at the table to discuss equity issues on campus with senior administrators on Feb. 9 in Mitchell Hall. The event was chaired by Meena Waseem, Comm ’23, who asked the panel questions submitted anonymously by students.

The panel consisted of Principal Patrick Deane, Deputy Provost (Academic Operations and Inclusion) Nick Mosey, Assistant Dean (Student Life and Learning) Corinna Fitzgerald, Director of the Four Directions Indigenous Student Centre Kandice Baptiste, and Associate Vice-Principal

folks are talking so much about diversity, equity, and inclusion. What does that actually look like in practice with tangible goals?”

Having direction and developing ways to maintain accountability through metrics are essential in any equity work, especially after starting conversations around marginalization, according to Marshall.

“What does remedying or addressing and creating a period of healing and reckoning with the past look like as a collective? Mutual thriving is mutually beneficial,” Marshall said.

Ensuring non-Black people attend Black History and

Futures month programming is essential to building safer and less harmful communities, Marshall said.

“These are healing spaces, these are the spaces of accountability—cultural accountability.

Simply re-posting a graphic or helping advertise the location and times of events isn’t enough, according to Marshall. One actively needs to attend events to do the work of confronting one’s own biases.

“Unless you know, the event

explicitly says it’s for the Black community only, which only some will say. A lot of them are open to the public, welcoming you to engage with the people you live with, and go to school with,” Marshall said.

“I know that sometimes folks can get very defensive because they feel as though they’re being singled out. These are healing spaces, these are the spaces of accountability—cultural accountability—where if you find yourself resistant to engaging in these spaces, maybe use this time to interrogate why that is.”

At the end of the day, many

events are being held across campus and in Kingston for the community. Marshall said accessing these events is possible through the events calendar.

“I think it’s a concentrated moment, to think and reflect and challenge ourselves to do better. I think one of the things is that life can become so busy. One of the things this month allows for us is to say ‘hey, remember, [Black History and Futures Month] is important.’”

journal_news@ams.queensu.ca

Queen’s administrators discuss equity at town hall

(Human Rights, Equity, and Inclusion) Stephanie Simpson.

With St. Patrick’s Day celebrations next month, students expressed concerns about the police presence in the University district.

“This year, [the City of] Kingston has hired an equity and inclusion role. We’ve been working really closely with them about the feedback we heard last year from students around over policing,” Fitzgerald said.

Fitzgerald pointed to changes in bag checking at the ARC and less students being stopped unnecessarily during community events as evidence of the University implementing student feedback.

Queen’s administration is in communication with Kingston Police about the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day weekend, according to administrators.

“It’s trying to find that balance [with police and security]. I’m hearing we don’t have it entirely struck right for students, but we continue to strive for that,” Fitzgerald added.

Students expressed concerns about sexual violence on campus, specifically relating to the incident of sexual assault in Stauffer Library earlier this month.

“There are structures in place where we consult with students. In particular, the Sexual Violence and Prevention Task Force is one of the main places where we have conversations like that,” Fitzgerald said.

Queen’s recommends students download the Secure app to receive notices from Campus Security.

According to the panel, Queen’s response to incidences of sexual violence is tailored to the situation the

particular student has to navigate.

When asked how Queen’s is listening to Palestinian students, Deane emphasized the University’s focus is on education, not politics.

“There are many sides to the political question, many of which are represented in the body of the University. We try to focus on the students experience and providing the supports and educational resources that are necessary,” Deane said.

Advancing equity, diversity, and inclusion at Queen’s is not without obstacles, even for administrators.

“When I’m talking to students who are doing equity work, and who are running up against the same colonial structures that I run up against, I find it’s what drives you,” Baptiste said.

All members of the panel stressed the importance of students’ involvement in making Queen’s an equitable environment.

“I do appreciate, first and foremost, all of the work students do, particularly in terms of creating community for your peers and making it possible for people to feel welcomed and to survive, in what is sometimes a difficult climate for folks,” Simpson said.

Unanimously, panel members agreed the best way for senior administrators to hear students’ voices is through the AMS.

Despite the equity work being done behind the scenes, the panel admitted Queen’s administration lacks transparent lines of communication with students.

“[Students and administrators] are not always in dialogue with each other,” Baptiste said.

“I think that as somebody who works in the office who feels like we’re all doing our best—but then nobody knows what we’re doing—this [town hall] is a really good opportunity.”

“Mutual thriving is mutually beneficial.

Black History Month is about challenging one’s own biases.

GRAPHIC BY CURTIS HEINZL

Inside the Black Studies Program

Black Studies professors say Black identities are not singular—they are explosive and always redefined

Suzy Leinster Features Editor

“The category of Blackness and Black Studies has an inherent hybridity to it because the onslaught of colonialism and the transatlantic slave trade touched every single aspect of the lives of the people of African descent. Every single aspect,” Jennifer S. Leath, assistant professor for the School of Religion, said in an interview with The Journal.

Queen’s launched the Black Studies Program this year, under the Department of Gender Studies. The program is offered at the minor and general degree level, currently requiring two core courses in an introduction to Black studies and Black feminism.

“I want to help disabuse us of the idea that there is a neutral or raceless category like we see in religion and gender studies. These categories have histories steeped in a bias and a whitewashed tradition.

Due to the interdisciplinary nature of the program, the courses range from art history to English, French to philosophy, religion, gender studies, biology and geography. Professors from other Queen’s departments, like Leath, teach courses for the program.

All these areas of studies create an intersectionality that gets to the core of Black identity and demonstrates the same discursive nature of Blackness, Leath said.

Currently teaching RELS 255: Religion and Social Ethics,

Leath expressed Black identity as something to be challenged and recognized.

She spoke to the importance of multiculturalism on ideas of Black culture and life, rejecting an essentialized Black identity. History, religion, and gender are the ways we construct and nurture ourselves, beyond a singular individuality.

“You can’t speak of religion without music. You can’t understand the rhythms without understanding the dance. You can’t understand the dance without understanding the stories and the lineages and the genealogies.

Thus, for Leath, racial categories should not have a single identification. Instead, she wants to teach students to push against the current discourse and create a space for interrogation.

“I think a space that is often uncomfortable may feel unsafe. It is a space where unfamiliar ideas, unfamiliar concepts and unfamiliar people can be engaged.”

In her classroom, concepts are framed in a network of thought, carefully curated to create a stimulated, yet “unsafe” space, to push the limits of understanding and communication, she said.

“I want to help disabuse us of the idea that there is a neutral or raceless category like we see in religion and gender studies. These categories have histories steeped in a bias and a whitewashed tradition.”

For Leath, our attempts to

bring society together under notions of neutrality act as an erasure, harming Black lives and their past traumas. There’s a sense of cultural and social absence when we ignore the significance of our racial identities. Furthermore, to disregard and erase the violence Black people have endured demeans past historical experiences.

She invites students to come to the material through themselves, “through the truth of who they are.”

Leath encourages students to look at who they are in relation to the work because Blackness is a socio-cultural exchange. Black contact is historically violent and violating, she added, especially through cultural contexts from the transatlantic slave trade and enduring colonialism.

“We must think of a cultural and material reproduction that has often be without consent and been coerced and coercive [to Black people].”

She added everything becomes implicated in this grapple for power, and the subject of Black Studies must be interdisciplinary to see the complete transformation of the lives of people of African descent.

“You can’t speak of religion without music. You can’t understand the rhythms without understanding the dance. You can’t understand the dance without understanding the stories and the lineages and the genealogies.”

Daniel McNeil, professor in the Department of Gender Studies and History and the Queen’s national scholar chair in Black Studies, described the years of effort students and faculty members have contributed to convey Black life and culture at Queen’s.

It was important to bring together faculty from multiple disciplines into the program to imagine a creative and collaborative knowledge, which speaks to decolonial practices and studies of liberation. McNeil voiced the complexity of global Black communities and the need to create courses demonstrating the imagination and sensitivity of Black artistic practice.

McNeil said the Black Studies program allows alumni to feel proud of Queen’s and their efforts to address anti-racist commitments promised in the Scarborough Charter.

“You have certain ideas about what France is, maybe an Emily in Paris idea, but there’s this whole other world of French with a global reach and colonial setting.

“One striking response we received was from a graduate of Queen’s, who reached out and said this is the first time she’s been proud of the university,” McNeil said in an interview with The Journal.

Queen’s Principal Patrick Deane signed and implemented the Scarborough Charter in November 2021 to act against anti-Black racism and promote Black inclusion in high-level education.

McNeil leads an intimate seminar on the Black Atlantic—BLCK 480: Special Topics in Black Studies—to discover how movement and relocation transformed political and cultural histories.

Projects such as a Black Studies

Podcast are one of the few ideas he proposed to consider ways of learning outside the classroom in a creative and collaborative setting.

“When you talk about the inclusivity of Haiti, how do we make anticolonial critique inclusive?”

“Part of what we’re thinking through is how not all academics are intellectuals, and not all intellectuals are academics.”

The phone rings and the lilting voice of Michael Reyes, associate professor in the French Studies Department, answers the phone to speak with The Journal about Black voices in Haiti and the Caribbean.

Currently teaching FREN 343: Histoire culturelle et littéraire de la francophonie et du Québec, he posits Haiti as the starting point for French colonialism. He wants to know how to be critical of French colonialism and its practices, yet also encourage conversations in the classroom.

“When you talk about the inclusivity of Haiti, how do we make anticolonial critique inclusive?” he said in an interview.

Reyes posed this question to consider the ways we think of a post-colonial world and understand who the participants of these conversations are. In the first weeks of the course, he focuses on Haiti and Martinique, then transitions to women’s writing and literature to move away from political texts.

Though Reyes’ course is within the Black Studies Program, it is also offered as an elective course for French students, and he shows the journey of learning about a race through language.

The Black Studies program is new this year.

ILLUSTRATION BY KATHARINE SUNG

“You have certain ideas about what France is, maybe an Emily in Paris idea, but there’s this whole other world of French with a global reach and colonial setting.”

He said students tend to appreciate the content in the course because they are confronted with the ideas and legacies of France’s colonial history.

“Black Studies will not be something that is just contained in one corner of the university, but something that spans across all disciplines and will benefit the university.

Students who are not in the Black Studies program gain an appreciation for the diversity of voices across the world because he plops the student in Haiti, then moves to Martinique, Algeria, Quebec and back to France to depict this network of people.

“There’s a global reach that isn’t ‘what France did to these places.’ But it’s how these places responded back.”

There’s a permeating feeling of hope and optimism when speaking with Sefanit Habtom, pre-doctoral fellow in Black Studies and PhD candidate in the Department of Social Justice and Education. She described the incredible labour of her mentors, and the resources they pulled on to cater a rigorous expertise of the program.

During her fellowship program, mentors and faculty have provided support in graduate dissertations and doctoral projects to facilitate and expand their network. Habtom and two others were the inaugural pre-doctoral fellows for the Black Studies Program and taught courses in the fall of 2022.

She had the opportunity to

teach BLCK 380: Black Student Activism & Critique, an upper-level seminar exploring the histories and contemporary organization of students using theoretical texts written by Black scholars.

Theory was a key component to the course because she found that words of diversity and inclusion have become common buzzwords in thinking about Black student activism.

Thinking of her dissertation and taking advantage of the intimate class setting, Habtom designed discussion to think about meaningful activity within the contemporary world.

“Black Studies will not be something that is just contained in one corner of the university, but something that spans across all disciplines and will benefit the university,” she said in an interview with The Journal.

Similar to Reyes, Habtom expanded her course readings beyond the standard texts and included creative works in poetry, and audio-visual works to bring a sensory element to the content.

“What happens?

What can be lost?

What happens when Black Studies are institutionalized? [It’s a] very important question for us to hold onto.

Since Queen’s is currently the only program to offer a pre-doctoral fellowship in Black Studies, she was drawn to the department and the ways they compare and narrate Black History.

“The Black Studies departments are meant to not only disrupt, not only name anti-Blackness, but also think beyond the kind of current conditions we live under.”

Her words reflected a futurity

for Blackness. She spoke of the program as a “liberatory project” that emphasizes the voices Canada has to offer, separate from the U.S.

“I think

history

by the conquerors or the victors. I want to counter that.”

The U.S. inauguration of a Black Studies program began in the late 1960s due to a widespread spike among students who sought to educate themselves and their community. They organized a social movement to fight for the space to express their innovation and study Black ideologies at higher levels of education.

For Habtom, these moments of resistance are moments of learning. She believes there will be more development and a sigh of relief after a long anticipated change and resistance.

“What happens? What can be lost? What happens when Black Studies are institutionalized? [It’s a] very important question for us to hold onto.”

As the sun sets outside the windows of Robert Sutherland Hall, The Journal listens to the powerful voice of Bianca Beauchemin, post-doctoral fellow in the Black Studies Program and Gender Studies Department.

In her late teens, she felt unsettled.

It wasn’t until she began her Masters in Gender Studies under Katherine McKittrick, research chair in Black Studies and Gender Studies department, did she find a passion and space for Black feminism and intellect.

Her anxious past pointed to a clarity for future Blackness.

“There’s something about the futurity of Black studies that opens up a realm of possibilities that is unmatched,” she said in an interview.

She recalled a student symposium conducted in her student years that spoke of colonial intimacies, bringing solidarity to Black and Indigenous people. A defining text for this conversation was Christina Sharpe’s Monstrous Intimacies, which emphasizes the sexual aspects of violence.

“I think it’s interesting that even when the Black Studies Department wasn’t formalized, they would still come to the Gender Studies Department as a beacon of hope to tell them what to do. I remember the department taking a lot of that labour on, whilst the higher up people in the university, said ‘oh well this is not us.’

Beauchemin said it’s messy and sickening, operating in a framework of power with a colonial script always in mind.

“I think there’s a familiar adage of history written by the conquerors or the victors. I want to counter that.”

When she looks at history, there’s the problem of the archive, specifically the way we examine and articulate it—the different readings and practices telling you how to convey stories of race. Thus, she wants new histories to be told as she teaches GNDS 312: Black Feminisms.

She attempts to bring together theories of life with literary

methodologies in poetry and creative writing to demonstrate the complexities of Black feminism.

It’s been almost a decade since Beauchemin entered Queen’s for the first time, and she said the progress towards anti-racism made since then should be acknowledged. However, the labour from the Black Studies department in anti-oppression is repeatedly taken advantage of.

“I think it’s interesting that even when the Black Studies Department wasn’t formalized, they would still come to the Gender Studies Department as a beacon of hope to tell them what to do. I remember the department taking a lot of that labour on, whilst the higher up people in the university, said ‘oh well this is not us.’”

What Beauchemin argues for is a complete cultural reset, where change is not only created on the backs of the Black Studies and other anti-oppression departments. She said the University and all its faculties should make efforts to change the institution.

Despite these growing pains, she said the department is headed in the right direction. It’s being funded appropriately, new disciplines are being brought in, and the small pocket of diversity from ten years ago has expanded.

On March 27, Beauchemin and McKittrick will hold a “Black Feminist Thought 101: Concepts, Grooves, and Key Thinks” talk and reading.

—With files from Anne Fu

there’s a familiar adage of

written

PHOTO BY CURTIS HEINZL The Black Studies program is located in Robert Sutherland Hall.

Editors’ Note: Black History Month Issue

Thank you for reading our second ever Black History Month issue.

First proposed in Vol. 148 and put into action by Vol. 149 Editors in Chief Aysha Tabassum and Shelby Talbot, The Journal’s now-annual Black History Month issue is something the entire Vol. 150 staff felt passionate about continuing.

This issue features the work of four Black contributors. Their voices and creativity have given purpose and life to these pages. We’re incredibly grateful they felt comfortable working with us and are beyond excited to share the end product with you.

The Editors in Chief of Vol. 149 vowed only to move forward with this issue if Black contributors would be paid for their work. In Vol. 150, we built on this idea and created the BIPOC Contributor Pool to compensate our BIPOC contributors not only in February, but throughout the entire year. We’d like to express our gratitude to the careful financial planning of past Journal leadership and the AMS for making this possible. Ultimately, the purpose of this issue is to uplift and celebrate the Black voices here at Queen’s while simultaneously drawing attention to the ever-prevalent racism

and discrimination present at Queen’s, in Kingston, and in Canada as a whole.

Make no mistake: this is just another step in a long walk. We at The Journal recognize our privilege and the need for us to be honest advocates in the ongoing fight against racism and prejudice on campus and beyond. Our work has only just begun.

—Ben Wrixon & Julia Harmsworth Editor in Chief and Managing Editor journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca

Flag on the play: performative activism

Editors Anne Fu Suzy Leinster

Editor Maia McCann

Illustrator Katharine Sung

Editor Sandrine Jacquot

Editor Rida Chaudhry

Arts Editor Sam Goodale

Editor Sarah Maat

Sports Editor Lilly Coote

Editor Maddie Hunt

Lifestyle Editor Clanny Mugabe

Editor Curtis Heinzl

Photo Editor Herbert Wang

Editor Mackenzie Loveys

Video Editor Juan Huerta

Editors Vineeth Jarabana Cassandra Pao Mikayla Wilson

Editor Amna Rafiq

Advisory Board Members Alexis Ejeckam Rose Sran Sylvia Kathirkamanathan Contributing Staff

Contributors Hannah VanLeeuwen Lireesa Gokhool-Jefferson Alessia Iafano Max Yi Kasai Major-Browne Josh Kowal Sougata Majumder Vonara Kalahe Pathirana Robert Howden Micah Obiang-Obounou Business Staff Business Manager Chad Huang

Representatives Eric Joosse Joy Shen

Fundraising Representative Grace Moffat

Social Media Coordinator Claire Schaffeler

Want to contribute?

Super Bowl LVII was historic in more than one sense.

Somehow, it was the first time two Black quarterbacks went head-to-head, but it also marked Rihanna’s return to the stage after a years-long hiatus.

Despite celebrations of Black culture—including a performance of “America the Beautiful” by Babyface—the event itself, and the public’s mixed reaction to Rihanna’s halftime performance, showed there’s a long way to go before football is truly anti-racist.

It’s not surprising a society built on white supremacy is intolerant of Black motherhood and business savviness being put on display. We’re averse to Black women who assert themselves in spaces that have historically excluded them.

It’s slightly hilarious Rihanna’s set opened with “B— Better Have My Money,” when the halftime show isn’t a paid gig. The singer donated her time, while pregnant, to represent her community. She deserves respect and admiration for performing on the stage of an organization that has repeatedly taken a non-progressive stance on Black people and social justice.

Let’s be clear: an organization like the NFL that punishes peaceful political statements more severely than domestic abuse doesn’t care about people. Black artists shouldn’t have to subject

themselves to scrutiny for free so the NFL can pretend to be anti-racist.

After Colin Kaepernick refused to stand during the national anthem in 2016 and was essentially pushed out of the league as a result, Rihanna declined an invitation in solidarity with his protest. She decided to perform this year to highlight the importance of representation.

While inviting Black artists to perform is important, the NFL must also ensure leadership positions within the organization reflect the inclusive values they claim to hold.

It’s also no coincidence the NFL hands the Vince Lombardi trophy to the usually white owner of the team before the many Black players who earned it. This exemplifies the imbalances still inherent to the NFL as an organization: there is a visible lack of representation in leadership at all levels and an ever-present ownership dynamic amplified by the social issues at play.

The same rich, white people who own NFL teams donate to a party actively trying to erase Black history because it makes them uncomfortable. Last year at the halftime show, the NFL tried to tell the rappers it invited to scrub lyrics criticizing the police.

Censoring Black artists who criticize institutions founded on white supremacy contradicts the inclusive image the NFL has tried to

ILLUSTRATION BY KATHARINE SUNG

cultivate in recent years. It’s utterly disrespectful to invite Black performers to tout your organization’s anti-racism, then tell them what they can and can’t say about their own experiences.

The NFL will tokenize Black performers without doing the footwork to dismantle the racism built into the organization. While the league has been predominantly Black for a long time, executives have consistently fumbled meaningful opportunities to make the NFL anti-racist.

Ultimately, while existing as a Black female artist shouldn’t be a political statement, it very much still is at the Super Bowl. There was some disappointment over a lack of special guest appearances—Fenty fetus excluded. However, anyone who thinks Rihanna herself isn’t enough probably would’ve complained no matter what she did.

How dare she not over-exert herself for our entertainment? How dare she promote herself and her brand? How dare she feel empowered instead of hiding her pregnant body away?

Nothing will ever be enough if we expect Black entertainers—singers and athletes alike—to exist to fulfill our every desire.

For information visit: www.queensjournal.ca/contribute or email the Editor in Chief at journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca

Contributions from all members of the Queen’s and Kingston community are welcome. The Journal reserves the right to edit all submissions.

The Queen’s Journal is an editorially autonomous newspaper published by the Alma Mater Society of Queen’s University, Kingston.

Situated on the traditional lands of the Anishinaabe and Haudenosaunee peoples. The Journal’s Editorial Board acknowledges the traditional territories our newspaper is situated on have allowed us to pursue our mandate. We recognize our responsibility to understand the truth of our history.

Editorial opinions expressed in The Journal are the sole responsibility of The Queen’s Journal Editorial Board, and are not necessarily those of the University, the AMS or their officers. 190 University Ave., Kingston, ON, K7L 3P4

Editorial Office: 613-533-2800

Business Office: 613-533-6711

Fax: 613-533-6728

Email: journal_editors@ams.queensu.ca

Please address complaints and grievances to the Editor in Chief and/or Managing Editor.

The Queen’s Journal is printed on a Goss Community press by Metroland Media in Toronto, Ontario.

Contents © 2021 by The Queen’s Journal; all rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced without prior permission of The Journal.

Poetry is a way to empower and uplift Black voices

Well, my roots connect me literally to history. But my ends are what express my true identity. See my ends are what display my creativity. My hair it sends a valued message, That I am free.

Social justice work was draining until I found poetry.

As a Black kid in a predominantly white high school, most of the activism that surrounded me happened during one month: February. It was either entirely performative—such as content posted on Instagram—or it was relatively educational content that teachers attempted to share with classes of students who didn’t seem to care.

The large issue at hand was the lack of celebration. The content was depressing. It felt isolating and almost shameful to sit in a classroom full of white students and have them watch a one-sided portrayal of Black culture that only displayed suffering.

After the uprisings of 2020, performative activism was particularly pungent.

There is a family, a community, a life an opportunity, For greatness.

Greatness in oneself, and greatness in society.

See these names might just be names for someone like you. If you feel no connection, and not many do, Then it’s hard to connect and make the issue seem true.

Abdirahman fled, But instead, Of taking the right measures to de-escalate the situation, The police found his location and Beat in his head. He’s dead.

And see this message is important to share because, Now you understand why it's more than just hair. I said I hope you understand why it's More Than

Just Hair.

***

This was truly a celebratory piece of Black art. We released the video on Instagram, and it exploded with more love, praise, and support than we ever expected.

All the content circling the web created a bitter bulge in my throat that felt suffocating. I would open Instagram and immediately be bombarded with videos of Black bodies being brutally mistreated by the police. It seemed like the murder of Black men and women became social media’s eye candy. It was sick and twisted; I hated it all.

Following all the videos of police brutality, the whole “Blackout Tuesday” foolishness surfaced. Instagram was soon flooded with millions of Black squares which were somehow going to help solve the systemic issues at hand.

It was all too much. I needed a way to process and express how I felt—that’s exactly what I did through my first-ever poem titled “Unjustified.”

Unjustified

George Floyd Breonna Taylor

Tamir Rice

Eric Garner

I hope these are all names that most of you have seen before. It’s unfortunate that these names are known for their deaths, and nothing more.

Behind each name, each number, each statistic, and each story covered,

No, no, I get it. The issue does seem true to you. Well at least true enough to share one or two, Posts or hashtags or maybe even a video,

Of a Black man being murdered.

Wow! Look at that. There’s hashtag BLM in the corner, And an aesthetically pleasing border, That person must be a supporter.

Well, I hope you see that it’s not that easy. Because posting is one thing, But truly understanding the issue, Is a whole other process.

You might say that it’s difficult to understand, Because you, as a Canadian, don’t experience it firsthand.

Well if that’s the case, then let’s bring it closer to home, Starting with an example straight off the dome.

Abdirahman Abdi

A 37-year old, Ottawa, Somali man, With a supportive community and a family that can’t, Ever see him again.

See Abdirahman was beaten to death with brass knuckles. His family mentioned that he was a man that struggled, With mental illness.

Abdirahman harassed a woman in a local Bridgehead, Which lead, To the police being called, so

Currently, in your mind, you’re attempting to justify these actions. It’s horrible that when a Black man dies, This has become the natural reaction, It shows lack of compassion, And serves only as a distraction.

I’ll put it plainly and simply, Police are on our streets to protect and serve, They have no role in playing God, deciding who deserves, To live or to die, Black families, they cry, As their brothers and sisters, Are lifted up to the sky, Unjustified.

***

The poem helped me unravel my ideas and transform them from a thorny mess swirling around my head into a flower that bloomed brightly. This is where the celebration started.

had truly made an impact, so I decided to continue pursuing poetry as a craft.

During the summer I joined a pilot program called Prezzy Youth Media. Their goal was to empower the voice of Black youth, providing them with tools and resources to make an impact. We created several fantastic videos throughout the summer, and for our final project we created a video highlighting the beauty and importance of Black hair.

There was acting, beautiful cinematography, and I composed and delivered my spoken word piece titled “More Than Just Hair.”

More Than Just Hair

Black hair is an art form and expression. It serves a purpose, It has meaning and intention. So pay attention, because you're about to learn a lesson

On our hair and its importance

Here's the answer to your question; these…

…4C curls and kinky twirls – they look, Flawless on Black boys and girls. It takes nurturing care to yield that shine like pearls.

Because it's more than just hair, For many, it means the world.

Now let's look at the history. No longer shall Black hair be a mystery. In the past, our people were lacking maps, So they used cornrows to navigate, Their plaits would mark the tracks…

"I used that newfound confidence to preach celebration and the uplifting of Black voices.

The New Hot 89.9 and CBC morning radio reached out to us for an interview to delve deeper into the message of the piece. I was nervous before answering the phone for my radio interview until it hit me: my voice had such an impact that people all around the city were attentively listening. This realization provided me with an immense feeling of empowerment. I used that newfound confidence to preach celebration and the uplifting of Black voices.

"Our voices have been silenced for far too long, but there isn’t a more perfect time to speak loudly and proudly.

Social justice work is emotionally and mentally draining when the focus is solely on the education of others rather than the celebration within one’s own community. Celebration means giving space to Black voices and shining a spotlight on the excellence that flourishes among us.

I shared the poem with my family and friends. Their reactions empowered my voice and gave me the confidence to post it on Instagram. I received dozens of personal messages from all types of people, thanking me for sharing my art and praising how truthful and raw it was. I felt like I

…To escape from the plantation, Travel to a destination, Where they’d gather together and celebrate emancipation.

Congratulations, Now you know more than before. But that's just the beginning, It's an entry through the door.

Let's make it personal – what does Black hair mean to me?

Poetry is just one way to do this. We must shift the atmosphere of activism within the Black community from the somber tone we know far too well to something more uplifting that highlights creativity. Our voices have been silenced for far too long, but there isn’t a more perfect time to speak loudly and proudly.

Kasai is a first-year Arts student.

"I needed a way to process and express how I felt—that’s exactly what I did through my first-ever poem titled 'Unjustified.'

"I felt like I had truly made an impact, so I decided to continue pursuing poetry as a skill.

We need more celebration within social justice work

Kasai Major-Browne Contributor

Kasai believes social justice work must celebrate the beauty of diversity.

PHOTO BY HERBERT WANG

Queen’s Black Fashion

‘Renaissance’

Association hosts first show ARTS

Rida Chaudhry Senior Arts Editor

Queen’s Black Fashion Association (QBFA) is in its second year at the university, continuing to create a space dedicated to inclusion while paying homage to the foundation of Black culture within contemporary trends. Last week, the club held a series of panels and workshops leading up to their first fashion show on Saturday, Feb. 13.

Dubbed ‘Renaissance,’ the week-long conference sought to explore the revival of fashion from the past and the post-COVID era.

The Journal sat down with QBFA co-founders and co-chairs, Laura Saint-Elien, ArtSci ’23 and Jaida Egboye, ArtiSci ’23, to reflect on the young club’s second conference series.

“On campus, there wasn’t a lot of fashion clubs on campus in general, let alone diverse ones. We wanted a safe space on campus where we could talk about fashion, especially one where we can talk about how fashion has been influenced by Black culture,” Saint Elien said.

Egboye told The Journal that at a predominately white institution like Queen’s, having a space for Black and minority community members is especially important.

“We’ve been wanting to do a

fashion show since we started, we wanted a trademark for [QBFA].”

With a sold-out show on Saturday afternoon, QBFA began their show in the Rosehub Innovation Centre in Mitchell Hall.

Models strutted the runway in two groups for each of the show’s five sections. Each section marked a decade spanning from the 1960s to 2000s, with each decade having a group of models for fashion from that decade, reimagined in contemporary times.

Queen’s professor launches poetry collection

Sam Goodale Assistant Arts Editor

The Kingston creative writing community came together at The Merchant on Monday, Feb. 13, to celebrate A Is for Acholi, a poetry collection by Queen’s Assistant Professor of Gender Studies and English Juliane Okot Bitek. The poetry collection, originally published in 2022, is Okot Bitek’s second since 2016’s 100 Days.

A Is for Acholi centres itself around the diaspora and marginalization of the Acholi people. Filled with formal invention, the collection challenges poetic expectations, explores cultural identity, and intimately examines how home has become fraught by the legacies of colonialism.

There wasn’t an empty seat at the event. Students from all

faculties were there to show their support. Professors from Queen’s came out in droves— Arts and Science Dean Barbara Crow made an appearance. The turnout made for a bustling, high-energy night in what was a beautiful celebration of the creative writing community in Queen’s and Kingston.

The jam-packed night was emceed by Queen’s Writer in Residence Peter Midgely and opened with an emerging writers showcase. Up-and-coming poets presented live readings of their work, with topics bridging nations and identities.

Big names performed live readings, too. Giller Prize-longlisted poet Kaie Kellough recited his work, imbibing spoken-word poetry with a rhythmic musicality, challenging assumptions about the sonic power of the medium.

When it came time for Okot Bitek to take the stage, she received a warm welcome from the crowd. Reflecting upon the

At the end of each decade, there was a miniature dance number in which the classic and reimagined styled models came together, uniting the past and present.

Emcee Ruth Osunde, ArtSci ’25, set the energy high with her introduction before the first five models walked out in classy outfits reminiscent of the 1960s. For the next hour and a half, models served looks with kitschy tunes for each era of fashion

courtesy of DJ Dante Caloia, ArtSci ’23.

The 1980s featured an aerobic baby pink one piece over blue tights with a lime green weight in hand. It would have stood out even more had it not been for the 1990s and 2000s coming in hot.

A little denim on denim never hurt anybody, especially not in this show, where a Canadian tuxedo moment shined between two varsity-esque stylings from the ’90s. Not only was this

show a celebration of fashion, but one showcasing Black culture through its stylings as well.

The 2000s offered a collection of outfits where the models accessorized with inflatable boomboxes, snapbacks, chunky belts, and a variety of ultra-cool sunglasses.

Each model’s presence on the runway was unique and carried a persona, making it exciting to watch them come down individually before exiting in unison. The authentic celebration of diverse students at Queen’s is not something the student body usually sees or actively participates in, yet QBFA provided a safe space for enjoyment, fashion, and a whole lot of style.

For Saint Elien and Egboye, enjoying the show in all its glory was a gratifying experience.

“Just seeing the vision come to life was the best part, for Lauree and I. We’ve had a lot of our university experience occupied by COVID and we’re able to do all the things we’ve been talking about for so long,” Egboye told The Journal.

“Allowing first and second years to have a space where they come together isn’t something we had in first year, we want to continue giving Black students and people of colour a safe space to talk about fashion and the origins of trends,” Saint-Elien said.

original launch of A Is for Acholi, Okot Bitek noticed the overwhelming support of the Kingston writing community.

“This book was launched in Hamilton with a crowd of less than ten people,” she said, speaking at the event. “This is a bit more than ten people.”

Before jumping into a reading of her poetry, Okot Bitek offered some background on the themes of A Is for Acholi. The poetry collection came as a means for her to navigate her identity and connect with Acholi while acknowledging the effects diaspora has had.

“I am a child of the diaspora,

of exile, so my relationship to Acholi—whether it’s culture, language, poems, space—is a little bit problematic,” she said. “I needed to be able to claim Acholi, so I thought to myself, ‘how can I imagine Acholi as everything?’”

Okot Bitek opened by reading her poem “An Acholi Alphabet,” a sweeping piece, turning each letter into Acholi while weaving a powerful narrative in the footnotes of the pages. Afterward, she shifted into a section of poems centring upon Joseph Conrad’s depiction of Black people in Heart of Darkness.

Okot Bitek’s collection navigates how those displaced

from their homes find belonging. She challenges the often hegemonic structures of academia and scholarship, conversing with the literary canon and confronting its mistreatment of marginalized groups head-on while imagining a better future. By experimenting with form, Okot Bitek plays with textual hierarchies like the main text and footnotes, ultimately forming a dialogue around diaspora and identity germane to the moment yet vital for a generative future.

Those interested can purchase A Is for Acholi on Wolsak & Wynn’s website.

QBFA explores fashion through the ages.

‘A Is for Acholi’ discusses home, identity, and the legacies of colonialism.

GRAPHIC BY RIDA CHAUDHRY

SUPPLIED BY JESSI MOORE

Winsom Winsom talks mentorship and art

Local Kingston artist’s calling lies in community building

Rida Chaudhry Senior Arts Editor

Having lived in Kingston for years, Winsom Winsom’s been on the Kingston Racial Harmony board and has been involved with the International Centre at Queen’s to foster equity and inclusion within the city and student community.

Her work as an artist takes the shape of various mediums. Be it through paint, sculpture, video, or puppeteering, Winsom uses creation to tell her stories to help others see themselves represented.

Last semester, Winsom’s The Masks We Wear was one of the last works exhibited at the Agnes before the reimagination project began. Winsom also was recently a guest in With Opened Mouths, the podcast hosted by Qanita Lilly, associate curator of arts of Africa at Queen’s.

The Journal had the chance to sit with Winsom to talk about her work showcased at the Agnes and about how spreading the message of mentorship benefits all.

“When I was even four years old, there were two things I was sure of: I was meant to work with art and people,” Winsom told The Journal.

“It’s important for young people to see an older person helping others and passing on the knowledge they’ve gained through experience.”

The Masks We Wear at the Agnes was a physical manifestation of Winsom’s life as a woman of colour and how she’s observed the way those around her approach existence.

“Everyone wears masks, to an extent,

though especially people of colour. The person you see in the office puts on one face to be in the office, another to be with their children, and one face to be with their partners.”

By calling out this process of masking, Winsom hopes to encourage people of colour to take a stand and remain dignified in being the minority within predominately white spaces.

“I’ve come to realize that we need to make it known that we are here, we are here to stay, and we can learn from each other,” Winsom said.

It’s especially important to Winsom to amplify this message in Kingston, where the racist past is ever present.

“Kingston was one of the headquarters [the Klu Klux Klan] would use—the

Cataraqui Mall was empty land, and they would meet there.”

When I was on the Racial Harmony Board in Kingston, I had to be a certain way and a lot of it had to do with racism.”

Many of the artists Winsom has mentored have become lifelong friends. She approaches mentorship holistically, never bound to giving artistic advice, but rather acting as a source of light when life gets difficult.

“Art mentorship is usually dealing with art and teaching [mentees], helping them get navigate studies […] but if you’re a true mentor in every aspect, helping them overcome obstacles then you’re always there for them and truthful with them.”

In 1992, Winsom was a part of a collective called Fresh Arts where she and

her peers worked with the government to create a program for the Black youth in Toronto to receive mentorship from artists ranging from dance to music to visual arts. Winsom is also the first Canadian Black artist to have been shown at the Art Gallery of Ontario.

She talked about all of this and more in With Opened Mouths alongside her mentee and artist, Pamila Matharu.

“One of the things people don’t realize is when I’d work with young people, I would use art and spirituality to work with them […] listening to ourselves, knowing, figuring out how to treat ourselves and others,” Winsom said.

To learn more of Winsom’s practice, check out the Agnes’ page on her work or the recent episode of Dr. Lilla’s podcast.

Sam Goodale Assistant Arts Editor

Media is becoming more truncated than ever, with

short-form entertainment becoming not only a preference but a necessity. Attention spans are shrinking. People now struggle to watch a two-hour movie without looking at their phones. It’s becoming impossible to read a book.

An often-overlooked victim of shortening attention spans is music. TikTok has redefined the way we interact with and consume music. It has also

completely changed how artists are discovered and attract attention.

TikTok has increased young, ambitious artists’ discoverability, sure, but this is a mixed blessing: as TikTok becomes the dominant means of connecting listeners with new artists, musicians are incentivized to craft their work for TikTok. The result is snappy choruses within songs bereft of value or verve within their verses or production.

Take, for instance, the recent Grammy winner “Unholy.” The song has a catchy, debaucherous chorus, but outside of its 30 seconds of glory, it’s all

droning production and lazy, lame verses. The song seems to have been composed with thirst-trap TikToks in mind.

As music becomes shortened and small portions of the song are popularized, music is fractured and fragmented. Songs under three minutes are the norm now. The emphasis is not upon crafting a beautiful, cohesive whole, but on seconds worth of catchy production and vocals well-suited to short-form social media. Most people have heard the chorus of “Unholy,” but far fewer have sat through the entire song.

Remember when Lil Yachty’s “Poland” was leaked? The song was 83 seconds long, but it became a viral sensation. People’s appetite for longer songs—or even ones that are four minutes—is waning. “Poland” is catchy, no doubt, but its TikTok-induced popularity eclipses any fame most talented and careful musicians will ever achieve.

It’s discouraging. What are aspiring artists supposed to do when a song primarily composed of taking “the Wock to Poland” achieves viral fame? You don’t need a good album anymore to sell music. You don’t even need a good song. Viral music encourages thoughtless composition and tracks which are primarily composed to soundtrack short videos.

There are some upsides to TikTok, though. The platform can increase the discoverability of emerging artists while allowing listeners to connect with producers. The popularity of slowed or sped up remixes has lowered the barrier of entry into the industry for those interested in experimenting with music.

The increasing brevity of music is ultimately symptomatic of popular culture at large. We have become so accustomed to constant consumption and sensory stimulation that if a song doesn’t hook us within seconds, we skip it.

We must pay close attention to what we pay attention to. As everyone constantly vies for our views and for our time, your attention is the most valuable thing you can give. The existence of minute-long songs is not a scourge threatening the fabric of humanity.

Nobody wants to see the day when the Billboard Hot 100 is composed of “Unholy” clones and an army of postable audio files devoid of any joy.

We are becoming sensation machines, mindless to anything which doesn’t immediately stimulate us without our engagement. Art is changing to suit our tastes. Beautiful lyricism and mindful composition slip over us, gone without the attention they deserve.

The effects of TikTok on music

Social media’s effect on songs isn’t always music to our ears

TikTok songs are catchy but unholy.

GRAPHIC BY RIDA CHAUDHRY

Winsom’s work calls on spirituality and belonging. SUPPLIED BY

Gaels found success this weekend—and all season

Lireesa Gokhool-Jefferson

Contributor

Queen’s was victorious over Lakehead and York this weekend while celebrating their graduating seniors. In true Queen’s Women’s Basketball fashion, they played as a team and relied on consistent work ethic and communication to earn the win.

As a second-year guard on the Queen’s

Through the athlete’s eyes: Lireesa Gokhool-Jefferson on Women’s Basketball

Women’s Basketball team, I have had the opportunity to watch and experience the work ethic and chemistry of this team; it’s truly unmatched. Being on a team of such genuine and supportive players and coaches is a joy.

As one of the first Black females to be part of the Queens Women’s basketball team, I strive to use my platform to break stereotypes and educate others on the Black Canadian experience. I strive to be the best teammate I can be and I want to leave a lasting impact on the program.

Here’s a look at this weekend through my perspective as a player.

On Sunday, Feb. 12, we travelled to play the York Lions. Coming into this game, we knew it was going to be physical, but the Gaels are always up for the challenge.

Even before tipoff at half-court we were ready. As an injured player right now, I make sure to provide positive energy on and off the court no matter what, especially

Through the coach’s eyes: Wumi Agunbiade on Women’s Basketball

Women’s Basketball assistant coach believes Queen’s has something special

Sarah Maat Senior Sports Editor

In 2021, Women’s Basketball welcomed Claire Meadows and Wumi Agunbiade to the coaching staff. Since then, the team’s success has rocked the province and nation.

In an interview with The Journal, Agunbiade was quick to mention the great team they inherited. However, her own skill as a player and now coach, cannot be overlooked.

Agunbiade attended Duquesne University in Pittsburgh and is the only player in Duquesne history to score 1,700 points and record 900 rebounds in their

career. Her basketball excellence continued post-graduation when she moved to Europe to play professionally. Even after retiring as a player, she stayed involved and started coaching.

Now at Queen’s, Agunbiade told The Journal her “main role is to fill gaps and help push the program forward.”

“I think I bring a level of perspective that allows me to connect with the student athlete through their eyes because I was once in their shoes. With every single player on the team, for example, I have a specific handshake with them and that right there builds connectedness.”

She’s focused on building connection, community, and unity on the team.

“I love that I get to work with really good people and help them in their journeys of being their greatest selves,” she said.

In the past two years, Women’s Basketball has also welcomed the first Black players in the history of the program. Although it’s upsetting and frankly

in the locker room when we have our pre-game hype session.

Despite not being able to play due to my injury, I know energy is contagious. I make a conscious effort to reinforce our goals for the game, echo our plays, and make sure we are all connected on the bench cheering.

Before the game, we came up with three main focuses for York: to be the aggressors, remain disciplined, and rebound the basketball.

When we started to play, however, there was lots of back and forth between the teams. The score was close, but my team was ready for the challenge. We stayed united, kept our composure during the entire game, and celebrated every basket along the way.

The York Lions repeatedly crawled back into the game, tying almost every quarter. Once it was halftime and we made our way to the locker room, we talked as a team for a bit before the coaches came in. They told us this game was going to

continue to be physical, but we’d come out with the win if we stuck to our game plan and focused on defense.

We put our fists together and yelled “Gaels on three—1, 2, 3, GAELS!” and went into the second half with our game faces on, even hungrier to win the game.

I feel we played with tenacity, grit, and resilience on Sunday afternoon. Adversity was thrown at us, but we faced it head-on as a team.

One phrase I came up with last year for our team was “all gas no brakes,” and it’s now a saying we use all the time to keep our foot on the pedal until the buzzer goes off.

When the buzzer went on Sunday afternoon, our hard work had paid off: we beat the Lions 74-68.

I am thankful to have such an amazing coaching staff and teammates who support each other and embrace each other’s differences. Go Gaels Go!

inexcusable it has taken so long, Agunbiade sees the recent diversity shift and her hiring as an opportunity.

“With myself coming on board that was a way in which there’s been a rewiring,” she said.

“And with Lireesa [Gokhool-Jefferson] onboard and with the other BIPOC individuals, there was an intent that was set out that was we are looking for good basketball players and good people. If there happens to be one that is green, or yellow, or purple, or whatever the case may be, and they fit our criteria then great, let’s begin this recruiting process.”

“It’s a very traditional school and with tradition sometimes there needs to be a little bit of unravelling to create new traditions and new ways.”

Women’s Basketball is disrupting the national perception of the Queen’s program with their recent success and it’s time campus culture started getting disrupted, too.

“There’s been years of Queen’s being, looking, and feeling a certain way, but with a little bit more awareness and intent, I think we can develop and move fittings forward,” Agunbiade said.

“It will take some more time for the program to look different and it will continue to evolve with time—and so will the university—so we just happen to be in a point in time within the journey.”

As Women’s Basketball embarks on a journey of their own for a national championship, they are relying on mindset and belief to make it happen.

“Call us crazy, but we really did believe we could become a national contending team, and with that type of belief—when you truly believe it and not just say it—and you practice like it and you work like you are a national contending team, it does something to our psyche,” Agunbiade said.

“A fair amount of our success came from an unwavering belief in the fact that we have something special, and we can do something special. And that belief, really did translate to each of the players.”

Some may call it greedy, but why not win, and why not us. I don’t see a reason why we can’t do all the things we set out to do.”

Agunbiade hopes this excitement and success will reflect all over campus.

“I think sports is a great way for people to come together,” she said.

“I would love for our game and the excitement and enthusiasm that we bring surrounding the game to create a ripple around campus.”

SUPPLIED BY LIREESA GOKHOOL-JEFFERSON

SUPPLIED BY JAMES PADDLE-GRANT

Women’s Basketball huddles during a timeout.

SUPPLIED BY JAMES PADDLE-GRANT Wumi Agunbiade and Lireesa Gokhool-Jefferson.

Racialized athletes should not be told to ‘shut up and dribble’

Micah Obiang-Obounou Contributor

On June 4 in 1967, a ground-breaking event took place in Cleveland, Ohio. The Cleveland Summit, organised by NFL Hall of Famer Jim Brown, brought together a group of the most influential athletes, including Muhammed Ali, Bill Russell, and Lew Alcindor (now formally known as Kareem-Abdul Jabbar).

The meeting was in relation to the stripping of Ali’s belt after he refused to volunteer in the Vietnam War. It was one of the largest political statements during the heavily controversial ’60s that saw an outpour of anti-war testaments from young boomers.

The summit was a powerful display of athletes using their social currency to make a political statement, and a significant moment in the history of sports. The Cleveland

BIPOC athletes have become cultural leaders

Summit showed the public how athletes could transcend their roles and use their platforms to demand change.

For a long time, people have questioned if athletes should have such large control over the minds of the youth and express their political opinions. One of the most infamous examples of this was Fox News’ Analyst Laura Ingraham telling Lebron James to “shut up and dribble.”

“It’s always unwise to seek political advice from someone who gets paid $100 million a year to bounce a ball,” she said. “Keep the political comments to yourselves [...] Shut up and dribble,” Ingraham said on a Fox News broadcast in February 2018.

The rise of the cultural importance of athletes is a growing phenomenon, especially during the beginning of the 21st

ArtSci Cup in Photos

century. The glam 2000s era saw the rise of athletes such as Allen Iverson being unapologetically themselves, and drew an array of young basketball fanatics who tried to mimic him.

Iverson was one of the first athletes to wear baggy shorts, braids, open tattoos, and jewellery during press conferences. Generations of basketball fans saw athletes such as Iverson as their role model, even as the media criticized him.

Damian Lillard, an American professional basketball player for the Portland Trail Blazers, believes Iverson’s influence went far beyond his athletic success.

“He was the guy that kind of blended hip hop with basketball. He was the guy that put it together [and had] that neighbour swag about him that I could relate to.”

The countless criticisms levied at athletes such as Iverson and Muahmmed Ali have opened the door for athletes to speak their mind and truly be cultural leaders.

Lebron James and Colin Kaepernick are more recent examples of athletes who’ve both been big advocates of philanthropy.

Lebron James created his own school that provides Black students with privatised schooling. Colin Kaepernick signed a deal with Disney to develop a documentary about racial and social injustices. The actions of these BIPOC athletes transcend their role as entertainers and athletes and use their platforms to demand change.

Ultimately, athletes being able to be advocates should not be seen as something overly political. Similar to great artists of the ’60s and ’70s such as Marvin Gaye and Bob Marley, being public about your opinions should be seen as a medium of making a positive change.

Given North America’s history, athletes have filled the gap of being able to publicize the beliefs and values of the Black community.

Governing bodies of Canadian university sport commit to anti-racism work

Lilly Coote Assistant Sports Editor

With over 11,000 student athletes, coaches, and administrators, the Ontario University Athletics (OUA) is the largest conference within U SPORTS and was the first multi-sport organization of intercollegiate athletics in Canada.

Understanding their influence, the OUA created the inaugural Ontario University Athletics Anti-Racism Awareness Week this year. During the last week of January, the OUA highlighted individuals from universities across the province to share stories about their cultural upbringing, how they are embracing their culture, and the importance of cultural appreciation.

During Black History Month, the OUA is featuring various stories from members of their Black, biracial, and Indigenous Task Force.

Members of the Queen’s community

The OUA and U SPORTS acknowledges Black History month

have been highlighted, including a recent feature on Queen’s Women’s Basketball’s Assistant Coach Wumi Agunbiade. They also held an interview with Lireesa Gokhool-Jefferson, one of the first Black women to play Queen’s basketball.

Back in August 2020, during the height of the Black Lives Matter movement, the OUA took their first step toward acknowledging the racism experienced by student athletes and formed the Black, Biracial, and Indigenous (BBI) Task Force. In addition, the OUA worked alongside the Indigeneity, Diaspora, Equity and Anti-Racism in Sport (IDEAS) Research lab in October 2021 to release the Anti-Racism Project report.

The 85-page report states that racism exists in every OUA program, in subtle and obvious ways. It talks about racism in the

hiring and recruitment process of college athletics, and how racialized athletes and coaches are often left out.

Furthermore, it addresses how community members often lack a concrete understanding of white privilege, and how athletes report they’re suffering in silence as universities and institutions lack anti-racism policies and reporting processes.

The report ultimately outlines four pillars which should serve as tools for change: education, recruitment, support, and accountability.

The report interviewed over 5,000 student athletes, coaches, and sports admins—72.7 per cent of participants were white, however. The study found there is limited diversity among racialized coaches

and administrators, and there is only some athlete diversity.

“It would be good, I think, if the OUA made it mandatory to have not only just the coaches, teammates, but [also] the umpires, athletic directors, like everybody involved in sport to do some sort of training on this,” Mercedes, a South Asian softball player, said in the report.

“Whether that’s you know watching a module about what microaggressions are [or] showing what diversity is, and what other cultures are that are here, and embracing that.”

The OUA is overseen by U SPORTS, which is the national governing body for university sports in Canada. This year, U SPORTS is highlighting stories of resilience from various African American university athletes.

“I think being resilient is just blocking out everybody and just looking in the mirror and asking what you want,” Ted Kubongo, a football player for the Saskatchewan Huskies, said in a recent U SPORTS interview highlighting BIPOC athletes this month.

“I am just glad we are prioritizing our Black community. A lot has happened in the last few years, not just in the Black community, but the minority community, and I am glad we are spreading awareness.”

PHOTOS BY JOSH KOWAL AND CURTIS HEINZL

Arts and Science faced off at the ArtSci Cup on Saturday.

Finding community as BIPOC students at Queen’s

Equity organizations are essential for feelings of belonging

Sougata Majumder and Robert Howden Contributors

It somehow manages to hit you in the face and creep up on you all at once.

It includes the things that happen during Orientation when everyone is singing “Sweet Caroline” and you’ve never heard the song before. It’s at club meetings when Black medical students tell you there are five of them in a school of 400. It’s looking around at conferences or social settings and never seeing people who look like you.

The missed feeling of belonging—the idea this place was not built for you and the people here do not share your lived experiences—is as tangible on the first day you step onto campus as it is when you walk across the stage at graduation.

Authoring this article, we’re both people of colour coming from diverse communities, and many of the issues we discuss come from our own experiences and those of many other BIPOC students at Queen’s.

In the first year at university, many students struggle to adapt to the novelty of university life.

LIFESTYLE

unappealing choice for those attending university.

While this article may make the outlook for BIPOC students at Queen’s seem bleak, both of us have found success in discovering supportive communities we can relate to.

Much of this success starts with overcoming imposter syndrome and recognizing our own unique strengths and perspectives, which are often direly needed in predominantly white spaces.

We were able to find that sense of belonging by joining organizations that emphasize and educate members on equity and diversity, like the Queen’s Debating Union and Yellow House.

For students of colour, this is compounded by being required to adapt to a predominantly white social context without a sense of camaraderie, community, and shared lived experiences. These experiences shape us into who we are, dictate how we behave, and detail how we interact with our peers. They hold a unique value in their ability to create bonds based on mutual understandings of similar lifestyles, traditions, social inclinations, and obstacles.

As BIPOC Queen’s students, we’re surrounded by an absence of people we can relate to and make

It’s all AAVE

Gen-Z speak, or as TikTok slang. But the truth is, it’s almost always from AAVE.

these types of connections with. If unaddressed, these feelings of estrangement can lead to negative effects on mental health, motivation, and academic performance. This is when imposter syndrome sets in.

When the only people in positions of power and influence—the mentors and role models—rarely look like you, it challenges your perception of whether your contribution is worthwhile or whether you deserve to be in these spaces at all.

Queen’s is an institution commonly criticized for its lack

of racial diversity. Unfortunately, these criticisms are not unfounded. While the scarcity of diversity is glaringly obvious just walking through campus, admissions data also indicates that representation amongst BIPOC students remains stagnant and low.

Ultimately, this reflects the ways that Black and Indigenous communities are too often structurally locked out of accessing higher education, and that the university has a reputation for being a challenging environment for BIPOC students, which makes it an

Clubs that are centred on a shared identity—Queen’s Black Academic Society, Queen’s Black Premedical Association, Queen’s Black Fashion Association, and Smith Black Business Association—are also places to create meaningful bonds and garner that missing sense of safety and camaraderie.

To be BIPOC in institutions of higher education means your very existence challenges the status quo. It can be uncomfortable, but it’s also often inspiring to be able to contribute unique perspectives to spaces which have both missed and systematically denied them in the past.

We highly encourage finding supportive communities at Queen’s—or creating them yourself—as a way of settling in, finding community, and setting a foundation to pursue your goals.

Clanny Mugabe

Assistant Lifestyle Editor

Internet lingo rises to prominence and falls into obscurity rapidly. Anyone who has had any exposure to spaces like Twitter, TikTok, or the once-popular Vine, might have noticed this.

For many, the appearance of slang words may seem almost miraculous; you open your phone and, suddenly, people are integrating a brand-new word into their lexicon. Then you go out in public and hear it employed in the real world.

Just like that, our generation has adopted a new slang term to be discarded quickly.

“ You can see African influences in language.

Oftentimes, it’s words made up by an anonymous internet collective, that are labelled as

AAVE is an acronym for African American Vernacular English, once known as Ebonics. It describes the unique form of English that much of the Black community in the United States—and, to some extent, Canada—has created.

“

Like all things sourced from Black culture, once it reaches mainstream attention, the clock is ticking on how long it’s considered fashionable.

AAVE’s roots run deep and wide. You can see African influences in language as enslaved Africans created their own dialects of English after coming to America. There are different dialects depending on the region and, in AAVE, you can see references from all over. Immigrants and long-time residents continue to contribute to the changing landscape of AAVE.

However, the Internet’s use of AAVE is not as graceful as the language’s growth over the decades. The internet

takes a new word, chews it up, and spits it out until it’s no longer fashionable. Like all things sourced from Black culture, once it reaches mainstream attention, the clock is ticking on how long it’s considered fashionable. Because Black culture is perceived as fashionable, people feel free to wear it and drop it as they please.

“ In using words they don’t know the original meaning of [...] people continue the cycle of [...] appropriation.

On top of this, AAVE reaching the mainstream means

non-Black people have better access to the vocabulary needed to mimic that stereotypical Black accent—the Blaccent, if you will.

In using words they don’t know the original meaning of and talking in an accent that’s seen as ‘unprofessional’ when you have the wrong skin tone, people continue the cycle of uneducated and disrespectful appropriation.

I’ve seen too many white people suddenly slip into a simulacrum of AAVE when trying to make themselves appear more aggressive, more abrasive, or as a punchline. The message is clear: to you, these terms are just funny words from

TikTok, and you believe a Blaccent can only come from someone who is either aggressive or funny. Of course, language evolves and to ask people to stop picking up new vernacular would be impossible and hypocritical. However, the rebranding of AAVE to Gen-Z slang is another reminder of the erasure faced by many aspects of Black culture.

If you’re saying something like ‘slaps,’ calling someone a ‘simp,’ or saying ‘deadass’ or ‘period,’ just know these words didn’t come out of nowhere; they come from a long history of Black culture struggle, and it’s all AAVE.

BIPOC students often struggle to adapt to Queen’s culture.

PHOTO BY CURTIS HEINZL

Slang comes from a history of Black culture and struggle

Vonara Kalahe Pathiran Contributor

I immigrated here with only my parents when I was a couple of years old. They were born and raised in Sri Lanka, and of course, brought those cultural and religious practices into our new household in Canada with us.

I’ve always been a curious yet stubborn child. I hate being told what to do—don’t we all—and was more receptive to being taught why something ought to be or will be done.

I was the kid that asked “why?” about a thousand times whenever I was told any categorical fact. Like why did we have to wear white/ light colours to the temple? Why do we have to hold everything with both hands? Why did we have to do this every day?

I was a child, yet I can assure you this came from a place of utmost curiosity and not with any intent to annoy.

My parents never taught me these cultural or religious practices but expected me to go along with them. This was a hard thing for me to do, as I was living in Kingston—separated from my family—yet my only exposure to my culture was at home.

It would have been much easier to immerse myself in these practices back home where it was the norm. However, in Canada, my identity was in conflict between two cultures, and it didn’t help that there weren’t a lot of Sri Lankans in my area to build a community that would be frequently seen.

Finding comfort in my culture from afar

made sure it was on its own shelf and kept clean, but for some reason I couldn’t build up the urge to follow through with those prayers.

Though, as the months went by, university life grew tougher and I found myself occasionally turning to my religion to find some sort of reassurance, peace, or think of my family as I knew they were going through some things too.

My thought process was that even though I didn’t fully believe it, it’s not like I didn’t have a connection to it at all; it meant a lot to my family that I did somewhat believe in my religion. So why not embrace my culture more deeply, if not for me, then for my family, in attempt of trying to be there for them from afar.

The lack of diversity in Kingston also made me miss the Greater Toronto Area. I didn’t realize how much of a blessing it was to grow up around so many cultures.

How I was able to connect with religion away from home

As the years went by, my stubbornness—one of the traits I admire least about myself— took hold of the situation and I grew increasingly distant from those practices my parents had wished I would embrace unquestioningly.

I just couldn’t do it.

Coupled with my teenage angst and natural high school identity crisis where I belong and who I am and want to be—I essentially hid

Spotlighting Black female excellence

Maddie Hunt

Senior Lifestyle Editor

The success and excellence of the Black community are potent everywhere, whether it’s seen in fashion or mainstream media—television, films, or music. However, it’s not always spotlighted. Media coverage of celebrities is normally dominated by white individuals.

The Grammys are a perfect example. The Grammys has been critiqued for being racially biased, with a disproportionate number of wins going to white artists.

This disproportionate representation isn’t only seen in winnings but in total nominations. Only 24 per cent of the top nominees at the Grammys this year were Black, and that number greatly dropped in terms of winnings.

Black women are at even larger a disadvantage. The Grammys has a history of overlooking Black artists altogether, but women are already underrepresented, making it even harder for Black women. From 2013 to 2021, only 9.7 per

cent of nominees for Album of the Year have been women.

Many have argued Beyoncé is consistently snubbed at the Grammys. Even this year, Beyoncé was beaten out by Harry Styles—a point proven. Many have critiqued the Recording Academy as fueling the erasure of Black women in the music industry.

Beyoncé’s album was phenomenally written and produced. It had inspiration and influences from queer artists and stars. It provided diverse mediums as well as popular tracks—all of which the Grammys ignored.

It’s important to highlight Black female success.

Spotlighting Black female excellence showcases non-Eurocentric creativity, which doesn’t get enough of the spotlight. We need to acknowledge the inequity of representation in media and recognize the impact Black women have in shaping our experiences.

For example, Halle Bailey being cast as Ariel in The Little Mermaid will cultivate children’s views into something diverse, away from the

my ethnicity away and pretended it wasn’t important.

I have always been in love with space, stars, galaxies and more. I believe in fate, second chances, leading life with kindness and good intentions, and karma. So, it always baffled me that I couldn’t embrace Buddhism the way my parents wanted me to.

Buddhism heavily emphasizes morals, values, spirituality, finding inner peace through meditation,

traditional white princesses. This will give Black girls the opportunity to see themselves on the big screen as an image of beauty—something rare in the media given the dominance of white princesses. In the recent Marvel film Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, the female leads offer messages of female empowerment and strength—especially Black empowerment. It’s important to see women in lead roles—in positions of power in their industry—to inspire other Black women wanting to do the same.

The Grammys and Hollywood are only two examples of the

and a strong belief in karma. Yet, when I was forced to pray, my mind couldn’t focus and would wander to a wide variety of random thoughts.

When my parents dropped me off at university, they left behind a small figure of Lord Buddha so I could pray every night.

Sorry, Amma and Thatha, but I did not do that every night. I do apologize.

However, every now and then, I did strongly consider it. I always

erasure and underrepresentation of Black female success in the world of pop culture.

Often, fashion and beauty take Black individuals’ creations and rebrands them for Eurocentric communities. These industries completely erase Black success to spotlight white influencers.

Iman has made an impact in the fashion industry, working on a new docuseries, Supreme Models, that discusses the absence of Black individuals in the fashion industry—an industry that’s inherently racist in casting models leaving Black creatives unacknowledged.

Iman’s fight for equity is

Recently, I began to seek out and connect better with people in the BIPOC community. After opening up to them about my journey with culture and religion, I realized some of them have experienced similar struggles.

This made me feel more at peace with my internal conflicts, and I began to take matters into my own hands and give my culture and religion a proper chance.

Although my journey isn’t over yet, and I still have a lot to learn, I can safely say I have a newfound appreciation and love for who I am, where I’m from, and what my ethnicity practices.

compelling and inspiring. She has challenged a powerful industry for change, making way for more equitable pathways for Black individuals in the fashion industry, whether that be models or designers.

Spotlighting female Black excellence is essential in moving forward toward a more diverse pop culture landscape. We must show future artists they’re joining an art medium that’s representative of their culture and appreciative of their voice.

PHOTO BY CURTIS HEINZL BIPOC students often struggle to adapt to Queen’s culture.

Recognizing female success is imperative to diversify pop culture

Black influence is underrepresented in every form of media.

Let’s thank Black culture for our favourite fashion trends

Fashion looks that were made and popularized by the Black community

Maddie Hunt

Senior Lifestyle Editor

Gold hoop earrings, small tops and baggy pants pairing, and sneaker culture, are only some of many fashion trends that have originated and popularized by Black culture.

Taking a step back to look at the influence of Black culture on fashion trends, the history behind the fashion statements, and how they are utilized by white influencers is the first step in making progress away from cultural erasure and towards celebrating the Black community’s creativity.

Gold hoop earrings

While white influencers like Hailey Bieber have adopted gold hoops in their looks, they’re not the first. Black female activists in the ‘60s and ‘70s wore hoops at a time they were considered ‘ghetto’ to stand together in unity and strength.

Celebrities like Nina Simone and Angela Davis aided in the popularization of these looks and are main contributors of the fashion staple today.

At the time this style came into being, Black individuals often lacked the resources that white individuals had. They couldn’t access the same high-class heirlooms, so they

adopted gold jewellery pieces as an alternative. It became a cultural practice that symbolized a celebration of culture and identity.

Small top, oversized pants

I am forever grateful for this fashion style; it’s become one of my favourites.

The popularization and iconic fashion trend of wearing baggy pants and tight tops can be credited to female celebrities like Aaliyah and TLC, who utilized these fashion looks on stage and in photoshoots. These women utilized male-

Black sitcoms you didn’t know existed

Black creatives dominated ’90s and 2000s television

Clanny Mugabe

Assistant Lifestyle Editor

Sitcoms are the heart of North American television.

They’re easy to digest, great for the whole family to watch, and one of the first forms of visual media people could easily consume on their TVs at home. It’s amazing to see how much of our contemporary culture has been shaped by TV. Some of today’s biggest cultural icons had their start on comedy shows and episodic sitcoms.

With today’s push for diversity in TV, it’s easy to forget there are a lot of Black-led TV shows floating around from an era of television where Black people had a bigger volume of representation on screen. The ’90s and early 2000s were full of Black-led sitcoms.

Of course, that era ended as TV executives realized those same innovative shows could be replicated with a white cast.

Nevertheless, there were a lot of great Black sitcoms back in the day, which you can now watch thanks to streaming services. Here are a few shows you can

watch whenever you feel nostalgic but also want to try something new.

Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper

Hangin’ with Mr. Cooper is a show like Perfect Strangers of the ’80s and ’90s, which starts with an adult comedy feel that leans more into the family-friendly market in the second season. It’s about a professional basketball player who becomes a basketball coach in Oakland, California.

It’s a fun, light-hearted show with great comedy and, later, with the more family-oriented tone, it sends great messages to kids. It’s great for the whole family.

The Parkers

This show is great to try because it differs from the traditional sitcom format.

The Parkers is a spin-off of Moesha, another iconic Black sitcom that’s a little more mainstream. This show stars Countess Vaughn as Kim, a college student and singer, and Mo’Nique as her mother, Nikki.

As Kim enters college, Nikki

dominated trends of baggy clothing and glamourized them. Soon, it became an innovative trend in women’s fashion.

Thank you, TLC for letting me look fashionable in a bra top and sweatpants.

Sneaker culture

Sneaker culture emerged in the 1960s thanks to Black basketball players. In the 1970s, companies like Puma and Nike realized there was a demand in the Black community for the same shoes worn by professional basketball players.

decides to follow her to finally have the college experience she never got. In this show, the mother-daughter pair learns to understand each other as they enter a new environment.

Sister, Sister

Before the actresses made their foray into daytime television and reality—before the likes of Twitches and Twitches Two—Tia and Tamera Mowry stared in the iconic sitcom Sister, Sister.

The premise of the show is a pair of twins get separated at birth and adopted into different families. Years later, the girls run into each other and discover they had a secret twin all along.

Soon after—similar to the small top, baggy pants phenomena—R&B and rap artists began to adopt the sneaker culture as well, further popularizing the fashion look.

So, the trendiness of your cool Nike sneakers can be credited to the Black community.

Lots of logos

Louis Vuitton printed their logo everywhere they could—developing a brand that had clothing, bags, and accessories coated in LV. Soon, monogramming was glamorized.

Their parents decide to raise the daughters together and the rest is history. A show all about family and the struggles that contrasting personalities might face, Sister, Sister is great to watch to see where two icons of our childhood had their most impactful starring roles.

Living Single

Arguably one of the most iconic shows of its time, Living Single is a show about six Black professionals living in a brownstone in Brooklyn, New York.

Featuring a fun, energetic cast with great chemistry, this show ran from 1993 to 1998 with five seasons under its belt.

In 1980s Harlem, Dapper Dan utilized monogramming and placed an array of luxury logos on any and every product. From shower curtains to jackets, Dapper Dan made a name for himself, and his success showed it.

Due to a lack of consent from the brands whose logos he used, in the 1990s, Dapper Dan was sued and his business shut down. While his work stopped, the fashion trend did not. Luxury brands took note of how successful he was and the demand for monogrammed clothing.

Monogrammed objects extended from clothing to home goods—its popularity is extensive. Now, we see some of the most popular accessories or fashion looks being that of monogrammed trends, such as Gucci belts and Louis Vuitton bags.

***

The Black community deserves to be credited for the innovative and fashionable looks they developed. These fashion trends are some of the most popular and glamourized looks in mainstream culture, and they’re all thanks to Blackhistory, excellence, and creativity.

It features the struggles of trying to make a career for yourself in New York City with characters growing and changing through the series, advancing in their career, and developing relationships while staying close as friends.

The cast is stellar, but one of the standout people on the call sheet is Queen Latifah, who wrote and performed the theme song, “We Are Living Single.”

***

Next time you’re mindlessly scrolling through streaming services looking for something new to watch, consider these Blackled series rather than another Friends rewatch.

Small tops and oversized pants were popularized by TLC.

GRAPHIC BY AMNA RAFIQ

Being a third-culture kid makes me uncertain of where I call home

Finding comfort in the university transition period

Clanny Mugabe Assistant Lifestyle Editor

“So… where are you from?”

This question frustrated me growing up. I found no answer that satisfied the people who asked it. It’s a loaded question that, depending on who you ask, really means many other things. One person might really mean “where were you born,” which breeds an easy answer: Ottawa, the capital city of Canada.

But that’s not what most people mean when they ask.

Most people in my life ask it to mean “what’s your cultural background,” in which case I alternate between Burundi, Rwanda, or Congo, or all three. I’m Burundian-Rwandese-Congolese.

“ The true meaning of the question comes to the surface of the conversation: ‘Where do you call home?’

Then, there’s “where did you grow up?” This is the one that makes me pause and start to get irritated. I usually settle for a general “east Africa” answer. It becomes a nice conversation starter; people want to know more, and I get an opportunity to

trade a few stories until the true meaning of the question comes to the surface of the conversation: “Where do you call home?”

“ Everyone lived there, but few were ‘from’ there.

Honestly, I couldn’t tell you.

I’m what you call a ‘third culture kid,’ which describes the phenomenon of being ‘from’ one place and raised in another environment totally different than where your parents are from, and where you were supposed to grow up.

That’s my experience, plus travelling and moving countries or switching schools once a year.

I went to school with a rotating cast of kids in similar positions. We’d rotate in and out of schools, sometimes appearing for a few months and being whisked away by circumstances out of our control. Everyone lived there, but few were ‘from’ there. At the very least, we were all doing that together and could trade stories of unfamiliarity. We all understood the discomfort that came from waking up somewhere new at the end of the day.

“ For years I’ve felt this wordless fury grow in my chest.

can chip away at any hope you have of making and maintaining friends. You give up on opportunities, clubs you want to join, activities you want to take part in, and friends you want to spend time with over the summer.

There was no point. At the end of the semester, the people you love will leave, and at the end of the school year, you’ll be next. Mom is going to sit you down and tell you something new is coming next. A new house, a new school, a new country, so don’t unpack, because you’ll find yourself scrambling to pack again in a few months.

For years I’ve felt this wordless fury grow in my chest. I moved every couple of years and was always caught between wanting to grieve every friend I lost and every opportunity I missed out on while also trying to be grateful.

Sure, when you’re a kid, your parents are responsible for you and decide a lot about your life, but there’s something deeply angering about seeing that exercised on a bigger scale—being whisked away to another country and having no choice but to go, no matter how badly you want to stay.

“ I’m tired of moving. I’m tired of throwing away or giving away things I’ve gotten attached to.

I’m now an adult, doing my undergraduate degree, and I have the most control over my life than I’ve ever had. However, because of a lot of different factors—including the pandemic—I’ve lived in a new place every year, mimicking the instability I grew up with.

Even though I’m lucky, I’m still frustrated. I’ve shrunk down my possessions to what can fit in a dorm room.

I’m tired of moving, I’m tired of throwing away or giving away things I’ve gotten attached to. I live off whatever can fit into a couple of suitcases.

But now I’m not the only one. Besides my cohort of third-culture kids, most people in college or university will probably understand what my reality has been for my whole life. Moving away from home, settling for something new, and maybe changing your mind once or twice.

Then you graduate, move again, and things keep adjusting until you find a place to settle.

I desperately want to settle. I feel so anxious whenever my future starts to look murky and uncertain, because a lifetime of moving has me on my toes, ready to run to the next destination. That’s not realistic now.

“ In a few years I’ll be back where I started: in a new city, new environment.

University is a transitory period in everyone’s life. It seems the rest of the world has joined the fray that I’ve become used to—always being in motion, slowly working towards an end goal of stability.

I’m complaining from a place of privilege. I never knew where I was going to live the next year, but at least I knew I had a roof over my head. I went to great schools, lived in a whole bunch of cool places, and met interesting people—I wouldn’t have met my best friends if I didn’t travel so much. I have more to be grateful for than I have to mourn.

“

I know in a few years I’ll be back where I started: in a new city, new environment, maybe even a new country even, who knows. As for that question: “Where do you call home?”

I don’t know yet, but I know that one day, we’ll all get to the place where we can answer that question with certainty. I look forward to that day.

Clanny moved countries each year growing up.

PHOTO BY CURTIS HEINZL

“ Because of a lot of different factors [...] I’ve lived in a new place every year, mimicking the instability I grew up with.

I feel so anxious whenever my future starts to look murky and uncertain, because a lifetime of moving has me on my toes, ready to run.