The Strand Magazine | Activism by The Strand

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STRAND

SPRING MAGA ZINE | VOLUME 59

variations on a theme

contents call to resistance

donâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t let me die: an open letter

apathy

the choices we make

exercising editorial freedom

in good humour

talking â&#x20AC;&#x2DC;bout my generation

why adele bowed down to beyonce

sisterhood

six months

how we are raised

the facebook discourse

january

20, 2017

are you an activist?

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EDITORS IN CHIEF

a few words

erik preston alexandra scandolo

Wind the clock back to October 2011—the Arab Spring was promising to bring democracy to the Middle East, while the Occupy Movement was promising to close the income gap in the United States and reign in exuberant Wall Street salaries. Both of these movements failed to ultimately succeed in the ways that many hoped. As the Occupy movement eventually died out, a common hot take seen in opinion sections across the media industry claimed that activism was dead—and that the public had lost its ability and willingness to effectively protest until their aims were achieved. Though the Arab Spring failed as a result of a multitude of other reasons, many stemming from ineffective and unwarranted Western involvement in the region, its failure was nonetheless used to substantiate this idea. What the storied history of activism—and particularly the movements we have witnessed in the past few years—can prove is that this couldn’t be further from the truth. The young generation is refusing to stand idle and have been engaging in pivotal displays of activism—activism that has successfully worked to reverse Trump’s illegal executive order on immigration, activism that has stood up to bigotry and racism, activism that has stood against invasive pipelines, activism that has proven that we will not allow corruption and hate to win. As the following pages show, activism is as diverse as its advocated causes. All of the pieces in this magazine reflect this idea—activism is inherently linked to identity and personal experience. Our contributors have shone a light on how activism has been embedded in their lives and how their engagement takes many different forms. Activism finds strength in the personal, and the effectiveness whereby change can be brought forth. We would like to sincerely thank all of our contributors and our staff for their hard work and generous donation of their time. This would not have been possible without all of you. With that, we thank you for reading and hope that you enjoy Activism: Variations on a Theme.

SENIOR DESIGN EDITOR genevieve wakutz

DESIGN annika hocieniec erik preston sonya roma alexandra scandolo

SENIOR COPY EDITOR tristan mcgrath-waugh

COPY tyler biswurm ainsley doell grace king heather mackay sabrina papas carol eugene park erik preston alexandra scandolo

PHOTO julia balm rosa kumar chloe munn genevieve wakutz

ILLUSTRATION lynn hong yasmine shelton yilin zhu

erik preston & alexandra scandolo editors-in-chief

contributors julia balm

charlene hanania

heather mcbrien

kathleen chen

olivia klasios

kody mccann

julia dasilva

emma lailey

chloe munn

ted fraser

vivian li

hazel sands

nicole gumapac

victoria london

genevieve wakutz

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CALL TO RESISTANCE JULIA DASILVA ART BY LYNN HONG

They told us it was over They told us the world gets colder They told us too much on our shoulders But we believe that we will win —Dream Defenders They told us it was over Sold our futures long before We were born And grew to fight, And told us then, as we grew pale In privileged night That we should rest, so lucky were we To live off pillaged Humanity They bred us to be as their mirrors, Live flat inside Their polished fears They bred us to try, and expect to fail— Their mistake Because now we will They told us it gets colder We believed them, while we were Alone Narrowed down To despairing cold— They never guessed we’d grow so bold To stand together, singing warmth

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Into a world Heated by frost on a corner near, Growing closer year by year That can be fought By marching on Up the hill of now-we-ought, And they will block us, freeze us out But not while there’s a spark of doubt They told us, Too much on our shoulders, We can douse a spark, a flame A fire, any size you name Luckily, they also taught That all we have is each ourselves Now we hold Them to their doctrine And watch as it Comes crashing down From what within They burdened it But we believe that we will win, That “but” will light us Through the days When we march, when we do not As more and more Will come to see

What they forgot: They bred us to try, and expect to fail, Paid lip-service to dreams and the Holy Grail And counted on us growing up to ignore All that they told us the world was for And slip with them Into cynicism (But blind enough To buy in) We believe That we will win: Now is when we latch Onto all those dreams, and not let go And what to do And how to fight They will not know, stuck as they are In a world too cold for human Life; Link arms and cross Their barriers We know what they taught, and hoped we’d reject, To believe in dreams To believe in dreams Enter the new year It is not over, and only cold If we stay caught

DON’T LET ME

AN OPEN LETTER FROM THE MARGINS NICOLE GUMAPAC ART BY LYNN HONG CONTENT WARNING: DISCUSSIONS ON RACISM/ANTI-BLACK RACISM, TRANSPHOBIA, HOMOPHOBIA, ABLEISM, SUICIDE (NON-GRAPHIC MENTIONS, STATISTICS), SEXUAL VIOLENCE (NON-GRAPHIC MENTIONS), ISLAMOPHOBIA AND IN GENERAL, POLITICS

Dear White People, a.k.a. 70 percent of Victoria College, or at least, what appears to be 70 percent since we don’t have any racial data on the students that go here: Imagine you’re working on a group project and you have a really great idea. So, excitedly, you say it out loud to the rest of the group, but people brush it off. Being the ball of anxiety you are, you creep back into the periphery, dejected and blue because maybe it wasn’t that great an idea after all. Then, less than ten minutes later, a carbon copy of any loafer-wearing cisgender hetero white male named Todd, or some bomber jacket-wearing white girl named Becky, regurgitates exactly what you said, but everyone responds positively this time. “This is such a great idea!” They coo. “Amazing! Nobody in our group has suggested this before! This is so original!” This situation is an analogy to what it’s been like to sit through the Discursive Hellhole that is 2017. Except that really great idea that people so readily dismissed is that the lives of marginalized folks are in danger, and that it is time to show resistance. The problem here is that these have never been new ideas, nor are they revolutionary ones; people have been saying these things their entire lives. For marginalized individuals, resistance is shown simply by living in a world that makes it very clear that they are not wanted. If their exclusion from society isn’t done by direct, interpersonal acts of violence, then it is shown through the ingrained structural violence that prevents them from participating fully in society. Structural violence rooted in long histories of white supremacist settler colonialism and the cisgender, heterosexual patriarchy. I’m writing this from the perspective of your friendly neighbourhood mentally-ill, queer, trans person of colour who has literally tried to kill them-

selves before. When you grow up with the intersecting identities that I do, you very quickly learn that the world was not made to benefit people who look like you, or people who identify in the ways that you do. However, with this in mind, I’d like to mention that while this is my experience, I do not and cannot claim to encompass and enumerate the hugely heterogeneous swathe of experiences that marginalized folks go through, despite some common threads that interlock them. I cannot speak to, nor begin to imagine the experiences of being black or being Muslim or being Indigenous or other axes of oppression that I have not personally gone through, though I strive to boost their voices. I can, however, speak about the things that I have gone through. I can’t emphasize how many experiences of racial microaggressions and violence I have encountered, including sexual violence stemming from racial fetishism. I can’t tell you how awful it is to grow up almost constantly resenting my skin colour, only to go to my home country and find aisles in stores (note that it is not the singular ‘aisle’, but the plural, ‘aisles’, as if one wasn’t enough) dedicated to skin bleaching products, because standards of beauty in previously colonized countries still centre around whiteness. I can’t tell you all the times that I’ve had to cope with mental illness, debilitating anxiety, and chronic suicidal tendencies stemming from terrible experiences with institutional oppression. I can’t tell you all the times that I’ve had people debate my identities as academic exercises. I can’t tell you how it feels to have your existence ignored as if you don’t inhabit the same institutions as they do. I can’t tell you how frustrating it is to try to explain to therapists that things like racism and transphobia literally contribute towards my poor mental state, only for them to not “get it.” People of colour and trans people are being brutally murdered around

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the world, and 41 percent of trans people attempt suicide, in contrast to the much lower 4.6 percent of the general population, but sure, Janice, tell me to try yoga one more time. I cannot tell you how sick and tired I am of having to beg people to listen; to see me and my friends as humans that deserve respect, only to be ignored until people jump onto the ally bandwagon when it’s popular to do so. Even worse, is realizing that people don’t care about these issues if they don’t directly affect them. I think the saddest part is that my narrative isn’t an uncommon one at all; it’s a statistic. At this point, people might be upset or offended: “I’m a good ally! I’m helping! I’M not racist! I’m not TRANSPHOBIC.” In actuality, your lack of action and complicity in a system that profited off of the slave labour of black bodies, on unceded Indigenous territory does mean you are racist. “But, I use your pronouns! I once liked your Facebook status on racism! I have FoC (Friends of Colour)! Did you even see my selfie at the Million Women’s March?”—claiming to support people of colour without following it up with any concrete action does not show the support that is needed. To be honest, my feelings are conflicted. On one hand, I’m grateful that folks are coming out in droves to show their support for specific issues. On the other hand, I’m disappointed in the incredibly narrow definitions of resistance and activism being suggested, and how they appear to be compartmentalized as specific acts, as opposed to how people live their very lives. I’m also disappointed because, why now? Why didn’t you speak out earlier? Did you really need a Fascist cheese puff (not even the Cheetos brand of cheese puffs, but the less popular Humpty Dumpty brand) to explicitly preach bigoted hate speech to introduce the idea that marginalized folks are marginalized? (The very word marginalization means that they live in the margins of society!) Where is the rock that you were living under for the past several years that allowed you to comfortably take an apolitical stance while people were dying? Are you still living under that rock? If so, then please let me join you and hide out for the next few years, I am exhausted. These are difficult conversations to have, because, while the recent mass (predominantly white) resistance in 2017 is appreciated, these movements need to incorporate intersectional analyses. Intersectionality, coined by the black feminist scholar, Kimberlé Crenshaw, was originally used to critique the exclusionary nature of the predominantly white feminist movements in the 1980s that failed to examine the narratives of black women who experienced overlapping axes of oppression, through both racism and sexism. The term has since been applied to other intersecting axes

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of oppression rather than just those two issues. Yet, nearly 40 years later, lacking intersectional analysis still appears to be an issue! Equity isn’t a race. Equity isn’t a competition. It’s a reiterative process that requires constant learning and unlearning and ultimately, it should result in a realization that all of us can be positioned as both the oppressed and the oppressor, if we don’t act to correct ourselves. My issue stems from the assumption that people who have ten stamps on their “Ally Cards” are finished with their process of learning and unlearning normative societal inequalities. I’m not going to stroke your hair, hold your hand, feed you chocolate, and wipe away your tears because you can’t take a few minutes to critique yourself. Think about it: maybe your complicity in this system is a problem that you need to fix. Maybe you did make a mistake. I will not prioritize your feelings over people’s lives. Read that again: I will not prioritize your feelings over people’s lives. However, we also must realize that activism, in its most conventional manifestation is incredibly ableist. Protests, marches, rallies, and demonstrations are great, but they are not always inclusive of disabled or mentally ill folks. Sometimes, when you are so tired trying to fight your own internal battles or chronic illness, you can’t just get out of bed and whip up the energy to participate in a demonstration. That’s okay. I don’t ever want someone to feel like their own health and well-being should be compromised. It was Audre Lorde, a black feminist and civil rights activist, who stated, “Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare.” This idea is why the narrow definitions of resistance and activism should be expanded to apply to how people live their lives. Getting out of bed in the morning, when your brain is desperately screaming at you to stay, is an act of resistance. Staying in bed and allowing yourself to rest, in a world where self-worth is based around capitalist values of productivity, is an act of resistance. Self-love, in a world that does not want you to love yourself, is an act of resistance. Openly showing acts of love to others that deviate from cisnormative and heteronormative standards of romance is an act of resistance. Confronting people who perpetuate racist, sexist, homophobic, transphobic, ableist, or Islamophobic rhetoric, and

speaking out against it is resistance. Passing the mic to, and elevating the voices of, those who are not heard is resistance. Providing emotional support to people in your community who are hurting is an act of resistance. And sometimes, simply, existence is resistance. If you’re one of the people who has felt unsafe in the wake of the political climate in 2017, that is valid. Trust that you are not alone in that feeling. And if you’re feeling overwhelmed and don’t know where to begin, fabulous folks all over the internet have poured unquantifiable amounts of emotional labour into how to help out different marginalized groups, how to engage in self-care, and creating wonderful content like affirmational quotes if you simply run a quick Google search. By having a 100 percent success rate in existing to this very day, despite the things I’ve gone through, I’m often told by people that I’m incredibly resilient. My friends and I have seen some shit in our day, and we’re often applauded for surviving it—but this narrative of resilience is problematic when most of the things we’ve experienced could have been prevented. To change the focus from one of institutional oppression to one of individual resilience, and to place that responsibility on the individual to overcome hardship, rather than targeting the system that causes it, is a huge cop-out that absolves people from accountability. Trans folks would not have to be resilient against transphobia and cissexism if cisnormative structural violence no longer existed. Black folks would not have to be strong in the face of anti-black racism, police brutality, and disproportionately high incarceration rates if these systems of oppression no longer existed. Mentally ill folks would not have to be resilient if the structures that contribute towards their distress did not exist. Survivors of sexual violence would not have to be resilient if their bodily autonomy was not violated in the first place by

someone who felt entitled to it. Many of the things people are told to be resilient against are things that people should not have been made to go through in the first place. There are people who will read this piece and decide not to do anything. There are people who have the privilege of sitting idly and remaining apolitical because the rights being taken away are not their own. But if you are someone who decides that you’re going to fight like hell over the next few years against oppressive structures, ask yourself this: Will you stand with people who don’t look like you? Will you vocalize support for the Black Lives Matter movement? Which began nearly four years ago, when the murderer of Trayvon Martin, a 17-year-old black boy, was acquitted? Will you fight for Indigenous self-determination? Will you fight for reconciliation from centuries of genocide and generations of historic trauma? Will you support survivors? Will you give space for their stories to be heard? Will you stand with Muslims? Will you protect them from public acts of violence? Will you support immigrants and refugees, without having to justify their existence through a lens of productivity? Will you stand with trans folks, in issues beyond pronouns and washrooms? Will it take corporate-sponsored awareness campaigns for you to openly talk about mental health? Will you call out your friends when they spew hateful rhetoric? Or will you stand idly by and watch? Will you show up? I don’t know where we’ll be, or what will happen several years down the road. While it would be so lovely to imagine a world without racism, without transphobia, without ableism, and without the spread of harmful ideas, realistically, that might not happen. However, we can make it so that it’s easier to live in a world where all these injustices occur. We can check in with each other, openly support each other, and show that we care. So, from someone who is incredibly tired, to you, dear reader: Don’t let us die before you decide to change.

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PATHY VIVIAN LI In a fragile shell, a world of dancing soirées, purple and red wine— clinking glasses— an open world— of dimples, cracks folding in— freckles obscuring the pale— its questions heard but swept into boxes, file directions posted in our bedrooms— only we notice it, the dreamers— I hold the egg in my hand and ask it many questions, I hold it and wonder about the world, which is full of life, its plates walking under the open oceans, its seeds thrumming in the nocturnal waters— wind rippling like butterflies through the trees and the sky— I ask myself how this world moves, why its shell is warm, why my fingers create arcs, why I hold it as others do— delicately, afraid it will collapse— knowing the power I need to crush its balance—

I’d peel away its layers, touch the milk of its heart, but its shell buries its treasures, I cannot hear its voice, the beating drum echoing the act of the Tragedians— a world within a stage, the stage within a world, the egg within a world, the world within an egg— the world’s collapse creating purposes, its stagnation and decline a thin bell— the worlds we never touch because we refuse to move them— the worlds that disappear like prints on windows, icicles in memories, like names— therefore, because the world is closed to me, and the voices I hear ring softly in my ears, do I sit the egg on my plate, lying, solitary, waiting for another to open its freckled face— for a miracle I cannot perceive?

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THE CHOICES WE MAKE DECIDING TO TAKE A STAND HEATHER MCBRIEN PHOTO BY ROSA KUMAR I was surprised to find myself sitting on the cold January sidewalk on the corner of St. George and Harbord, holding a piece of paper ripped out of my notebook that read in purple highlighter, “I am prochoice too.” I was sitting next to a woman whose name I didn’t know, and she was holding the original sign reading “I am pro-choice.” She was talking to a man holding a sign with a picture of a first-trimester, aborted embryo. She was talking to this man, who was arguing that the abortion of fetuses was an instance of ageism. He claimed that fetuses and embryos at all stages of pregnancy were people, and that killing a fetus or embryo, rather than carrying it to term, was discrimination against the youngest of humans, as we would never do similar things to older people. I noted that they were having a respectful, civil discussion, and they continued this way until the man left. While I admired their tone, holding graphic images is not a respectful way to engage in political discourse. What struck me was the simplicity of this man’s argument. For the whole discussion, he focused on one topic: how wrong it was to kill people. But, this isn’t what discussions surrounding reproductive rights should be about. Everyone (or almost everyone) agrees that it’s wrong to kill people—this is not news. Even if every collection of cells that has the potential to be a person is, from the moment of conception, a person, what do we say about the personhood of the body carrying the embryo? What if carrying the baby to term is going to kill them? This seems, to me, such an obvious contradiction to a hard-and-fast rule against abortion in all circumstances. This man didn’t address that, or even mention it. He didn’t seem concerned about the realities of

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people who seek abortions, how circumstances can make carrying a baby to term untenable, or raising a child impossible. I wondered, has he thought of how parents weigh the risk of medical complication and trauma against abortion? The realities of carrying a child who is the result of a rape? He talked about the right to bodily autonomy, and argued that aborting a fetus would be a violation of the fetus’ bodily autonomy. He didn’t seem to consider that his own goal—making all abortion illegal—violates the bodily autonomy of many other people. He didn’t mention about the results of restricting access to abortion. When they came up in discussion, he wasn’t informed. People who don’t have access to regulated and legal abortions will still have abortions—usually in unsafe circumstances with great financial and medical costs. Abortion happens all over the world, in places where it is not legal or readily accessible, across cultures, across race, across class. He was holding graphic signs on a street corner when he was unaware of how to actually reduce abortion rates. Education for women, better access to birth control, good sex education, and general economic improvement all result in fewer abortions. Holding up triggering imagery as a scare-tactic does nothing but continue to perpetuate the stigma of the procedure. He seemed convinced that he knew better than all of the people who have spent their lives trying to make sense of pregnancy and reproductive health. He seemed convinced that his emotional intuition qualified him to stand on a street corner chatting up the passers-by about how killing i s wrong. Then, showing these images of something he didn’t understand, pontificating about a decision that he would never make for himself, but wanted to make for everyone else. What made him think he had any reason to be there? What gave him that arrogance? When I walked by, I saw, like everyone else, three men holding graphic signs—an emotional appeal. I thought of the hard, complex decisions people make, people walking by who had had abortions themselves. I’ve walked by anti-choice protests before on campus. I’ve always wanted to shout, “I don’t agree with this!” because the situation is so one-sided. Walking by without saying anything may not be implicit agreement, but it feels that way. When I saw this woman sitting on the ground with her hand-written sign, it was as if she was mirroring my own quiet thoughts, but she was using this public space, where others could hear them. I could do nothing else but get out my paper and pen, write my own sign too, and sit down on the pavement.

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EXERCISING FREEDOM STUDENT JOURNALISMâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;S ROLE IN A WORLD OF ALTERNATIVE FACTS KATHLEEN CHEN ART BY YASMINE SHELTON

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Young journalists have heard the future of journalism called into questions in the digital age. In recent months, however, the threat to journalism has evolved from budgetary issues, to something more existential; the erosion of the public’s trust in the media. In 2016, Gallup found that only 32 percent of Americans have “a great deal or fair amount of trust” in the mass media’s ability to “report the news fully, accurately and fairly”—the lowest level of confidence in this poll’s history. Donald Trump has most certainly contributed to the increased skepticism surrounding mainstream media, calling them “the enemies of the people” and consistently claiming that news, which criticizes him, must be fake. In fact, the GOP’s “Mainstream Media Accountability Survey” opened with the question, “Do you believe that the mainstream media has reported unfairly on our movement?”—arguably using the overtly biased survey to encourage such doubts. Trump treats the media like a political opponent, suggesting that “they have their own agenda,” contributing to a widespread paranoia that everything is partisan. Mainstream media not only have to compete against fake news that is shared widely on social media, but they also have to take care not to run fake stories themselves. This is no trivial task, considering the infinite number of voices online, the increasingly blurred distinction between opinion and news writing, and the time-pressure imposed on journalism in the internet age. Perhaps the more fundamental problem that we are facing is our inability to engage with dissenting views. We no longer have disagreements; as Trump has demonstrated, criticisms are simply lies. A convenient way to avoid debate is to undermine the credibility of sources which disagree with pre-existing beliefs—to suggest that the media is attacking Trump’s administration because they do not like him, and not because of glaring flaws in his government. Facebook’s algorithms have already created echo chambers which shelter people from opposing opinions, and systematic dismissals of other viewpoints will only add more insulation. Student journalism is also vulnerable to the generalized skepticism directed towards the media, but I believe that we are in a unique position to respond to these challenges. For one, the structure and scale of student publications makes us less likely to share some of the biases of traditional outlets. Student papers are not influenced by corporations, and though university campuses tend to be predominantly left-leaning, we have very few political links. With staff turning over each year, it is difficult for student publications to maintain a consistent ideological profile, which means that new voices and opinions are constantly brought forward. We have the responsibility, now more than ever, to produce well-researched articles. Journalism is a

deinstitutionalized industry; it is not subject to external regulation and largely depends on journalists’ individual integrity. The lack of regulation allows for more independent reporting and editorial freedom, but poses a potential ethical hazard, especially when anyone with access to the internet can call themselves a journalist. However, student newspapers tend to have small readerships. The Strand is based in a college community, so readers know the journalists on a personal level and, therefore, hold us accountable. Our peers provide persuasive motivation to express well thought-out opinions, rather than generating inflammatory ones just to get more clicks. Our small size and our independence allow us to freely criticize institutions of all political leanings, including the university itself. Student papers have the opportunity to be the source that people believe in.

STUDENT PAPERS ALSO FACE CHALLENGES IN THE TRANSITION TO DIGITAL MEDIA, OUR GENERATION’S INTUITION WITH TECHNOLOGY MAKES US WELL EQUIPPED FOR THE CHALLENGE Furthermore, we are extremely capable of engaging young people in current affairs, at a time when our demographic is becoming more disillusioned and disengaged with politics. We are fellow students, and, though our beliefs may differ, we all share similar experiences. Student papers also work to connect on-campus narratives to broader issues. Publications at UofT have been deconstructing the simplistic fallacy that Toronto is an accepting, multicultural salad bowl where we all get along, publicizing instances of discrimination on campus—most notably, by refusing to allow Professor Jordan Peterson’s remarks and rallies to go uncriticised. Though student papers also face challenges in the transition to digital media, our generation’s intuition with technology makes us well-equipped for the challenge. Student journalism exists in a small ecosystem contained within a turbulent world. As readers and journalists alike, let us take advantage of this environment to bring back the spirit of debate.

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IN GOOD HUMOUR THE ACTIVISM INHERENT TO COMEDY TED FRASER ART BY YILIN ZHU

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From Greek thespians satirizing power-hungry tyrants, to Alec Baldwin’s devastatingly accurate impersonation of Donald Trump, comedy’s inherent activism is influential and age-old. For millennia, playwrights and humorists alike have combined activism and entertainment. In the Greek comedy Lysistrata, the main character praises the benefits of pluralism, stating that “[Greece should] mix everyone in: the immigrants and any friendly foreigners.” Written by Aristophanes, this play is part of a trilogy that includes Thesmophoriazusae and Frogs. All three emphasize the limits of authority by highlighting how ludicrously it acts sometimes. Whether it is showing the hedonistic limitations of Athenian men, or depicting Hercules as “an oaf” and Dionysus as a “braggart,” these works encourage society to question authority while reinforcing democratic ideals. Almost two-thousand years later, Jonathan Swift contributed to political change through the writing of A Modest Proposal. In this famous work, Swift satirized British attitudes towards the Irish population, and highlighted the gentry’s contempt for the poor in general. The essay implored Irish parents to sell their children to the British bourgeoisie, who will in turn eat them. Arguably the most famous piece of satire ever written, Swift’s piece provoked important political discussion on inequality and paved the way for future politically active humorists. Jump ahead to the present, and comedy and politics have become inextricably intertwined. Last year at the Academy Awards, Chris Rock’s incendiary monologue touched on equality of opportunity in the film industry, helping to catalyze the “Oscar’s So White” movement. He eloquently bashed the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, opening with: “I’m here at the Academy Awards, otherwise known as the White People’s Choice Awards,” which preluded a series of genius quips at the Academy’s lack of diversity. The controversy even gained the attention of Barack Obama, who, when asked about the issue, stated: “I think, as a whole, the industry should do what every other industry should do—which is to look for talent, provide opportunity to everybody. And I think the Oscar debate is really just an expression of this broader issue. Are we making sure that everybody is getting a fair shot?” Other modern comedians have not shied away from the political fray. Sarah Silverman campaigned for Hillary Clinton, while Louis C.K. beautifully demonstrated how comedy can boil down complex issues to their

lowest common denominator, refining them in a way so that the masses can easily understand politics through his use of comedic analogies in his stand-up routines. Other contemporary comedy has manifested itself not through individual voices, but through large news agencies. The Onion has been one of the loudest voices in the lampooning of newly-elected president Donald Trump. Articles ranging from Secret Service to Add Emotional Protection Division to Safeguard Trump’s Psyche to White House Staff Reminded to Firmly Place Lids on Trash Bins After Steve Bannon gets into Garbage Again are examples of the publication’s razor sharp wit. But what happens when comedy turns against itself, giving unworthy figures attention, or advocating for tradition rather than progression? For instance, in another one of Aristophanes’ plays, The Clouds, a character states, “That’s what you get for questioning,” after burning one of his students at the stake. Some argue that comedy, in the early days, was used to quell progressive attitudes, insult minorities, and reinforce tradition as much as it was used to promote democracy and progressive ideals. For instance, again in Lysistrata, the main character scoffs at the idea of women receiving voting rights. Aristophanes did not necessarily adopt progressive attitudes towards gender roles, and instead chose to paint women as “irrational creatures in need of protection from themselves and others.” Usually, however, comedy serves an integral function in a democracy. By making a relatively boring discipline engaging, comedy makes politics accessible to the masses. The skillful, humorous integration of emotion heightens our attachment to a social issue, and by confronting serious issues in an innocuous way, comedy introduces important topics that could otherwise be deemed inappropriate or taboo. Moreover, the influence of popular culture proves that people are likely to listen to a comedian more than a politician. Comedy exposes us to a brand new, unconsidered perspective. We laugh because we experience something unexpected. At its core, activism performs the same role: to introduce a new perspective, and to try, in turn, to have other people consider and accept that perspective. Comedy has bred some of the most thought-provoking, important activists in recent memory. Despite sometimes being regarded as a crude and useless means by which to insult or mock, humour is an understated and effective method of activism.

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TALKIN’ BOUT MY LOCATING CONTEMPORARY PROTEST MUSIC OLIVIA KLASIOS ART BY LYNN HONG

It’s February 17th—day 37 of the Trump administration. Catch Obama living his best life, trading in his suit for a backwards hat and flip-flops, and Saturday Night Live enjoying their most successful season in 22 years as Alec Baldwin rocks the impersonation game. The rest of America, however, has been set ablaze with marches, riots, and protests against a tiny-handed man. An integral part of any resistance movement is the art that is produced as both a result of its environment and as a response to it. Music has the unique ability to act as an outlet of self-expression, as well as a way to educate and inspire millions. You only need to look through history to see that folk music, punk-rock, and hip-hop promote

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awareness about a wide variety of issues through their sound. Through their music, countless artists have used their talent and fame to address global concerns, ranging from animal rights to xenophobia. Today, we face many of those same issues. Music should continue to be an active participant in history. Living under the dark cloud that is our current socio-political climate, the question arises: What are the protest songs of today? From The Ramones’ infamous “Bonzo Goes To Bitburg,” which bashed Reagan, and Tupac’s “Letter to the President,” that addressed “Slick Willie” Clinton’s numerous failures in office, protesting presidents through song is nothing new. Since long before he sat

in the oval office, Trump has been sparking some of the most vibrant socially conscious tracks of our time. Back in the summer of 2016, Compton-based rapper YG released a confrontational protest anthem that is reminiscent of the political raps of the late 80s and 90s. “Fuck Donald Trump” is loaded with politically and racially-charged content that lays down bar after bar of insults. Even Russian feminist punk-rock group, Pussy Riot released a song about the future of America under Trump, titled “Make America Great Again.” The video’s dystopian depiction of America shows the beating, shaming, and branding of victims as the lyrics of “Let other people in / Listen to your women / Stop killing black children / Make America great again” address a broad scope of issues. These are two pivotal examples amongst many anti-Trump songs that have emerged thus far. Hundreds of tracks were released on Inauguration Day alone, with many advertising that proceeds earned would go to supporting progressive organizations such as the ACLU, Planned Parenthood, and the National Immigration Law Center. On Joey Bada$$’s Inauguration Day track titled “Land of the Free,” he spits a fearful reflection of the past and future oppression of blacks in Donald Trump’s “AmeriKKKa,” blatantly stating the shared feeling that “Trump is not equipped to take this country over.”

MUSIC SHOULD CONTINUE TO BE AN ACTIVE PARTICIPANT IN HISTORY The presidency might be the focus of many tracks, but there are artists using their music to advocate for other related issues, like the Black Lives Matter movement. Kendrick Lamar’s 2015 album, To Pimp A Butterfly, is praised for the social relevance of its lyrics and avant-garde mixing of rap and jazz styles. The song “Alright” has been called an anthem of BLM, as its chorus was the mantra of several protests against police brutality. The long-lasting issues between police and African-Americans can be seen throughout the hip-hop and rap genre, from N.W.A.’s “Fuck Tha Police” to the more recent tracks by Vic Mensa and Blood Orange, who both reference specific incidents in “16 Shots” and “Sandra’s Smile,” respectively. These high-profile artists have given a voice to those silenced by death and advocated for

awareness on an enduring American problem. From Toronto to Washington to London, the International Women’s March movements advocated for a wide array of important causes including: women’s and LGBTQ rights, immigration, healthcare reform, the environment, and racial equality. Women have also had an equally important role in the production of contemporary protest music. Singer-songwriter Fiona Apple used the 45th President’s sexual assault comments on the track “Tiny Hands.” Chanting, “We don’t want your tiny hands / Anywhere near our underpants,” over a drumline that caused similarly infectious cries of support at the marches that Trump’s own rallies have garnered. External to the marches, Beyoncé has drawn attention to the place of black women in society. Queen Bey’s audiovisual production of Lemonade is a meditation on the relationship between black women and their modern-day oppression. She uses an extract from a Malcolm X speech when she says, “The most disrespected person in America is the black woman.” Although the story is one of reconciliation between a woman and the man who wronged her—read Jay Z and his exploits with “Becky”—the underlying tone is an age old one that speaks of equality and recognition. Across the pond, British rapper M.I.A. has been using her tracks to advocate global awareness on refugee crises, immigration, and other humanitarian issues for years on tracks such as “Borders” and her most recent release, “P.O.W.A.” Just as they have in the past, women continue to use music as a weapon in their fight for equality. The days of a lone folk singer making their concerns heard to a small audience in a coffee shop have passed. Today, we see artists release their tracks online through various platforms, reaching perhaps upwards of a thousand people in a day. This has caused the reach of any given song, politically inclined or not, to increase exponentially. Collaborative projects like 1000 Days, 1000 Songs, and Our First 100 Days have been launched to advocate awareness of the issues, specifically catered to the current state of America. Their goal is to “provide a soundtrack to resistance,” as well as provide financial aid to the causes that are threatened by the actions of the Trump administration, including climate awareness, women and LGBTQ rights, and immigration. On YG’s interlude in “FDT,” you can hear him say, “We the youth / We the people of this country / We got a voice too / We will be seen, and we will be heard.” As a generation seeking instantaneous gratification, issues are constantly being refreshed, updated, and subsequently hidden in an overload of information. There’s a lot going on, but the protest songs and resistance messages are here, you just might have to look a little harder.

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why it matters that down to beyoncé WE SHOULD ALL BE RECOGNIZING THE WORK OF WOMEN OF COLOUR HAZEL SANDS ART BY LYNN HONG

The 2017 Grammy Awards saw Beyoncé’s third loss of the Album of the Year award, this time with Adele’s 25 taking the award over Lemonade. While not entirely unexpected, the snub did infuriate many, including Adele herself. Utilizing her acceptance speech to call out the injustice of Beyoncé’s loss for this ground-breaking and genre-defying album, she acknowledged her privilege, saying on live television: “I can’t possibly accept this award…I’m very humbled and I’m very grateful…but the artist of my life is Beyoncé. And this album to me, the Lemonade album, is just so monumental.” She later repeated this sentiment behind-stage in the press room asking, “What the fuck does she have to do to win Album of the Year?” This display of solidarity among female artists was not only one of friendship between the two women, but also, a move of allyship from a white woman to a black woman. When Adele said, “The way you make my black friends feel is empowering, and you make them stand up for themselves,” the audience and viewers at home realized that this was not just 18

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about the respect Adele has for Beyoncé, but an acknowledgement of racial inequality by a powerful white woman who was simultaneously denouncing her own win. Snubbing Lemonade cannot be overlooked for its racial injustices, as the album both lyrically and visually celebrates the black experience and its intersections with womanhood. The album is too unapologetically black to have a chance at winning over the historically white-leaning Recording Academy Voting Members. While the following blast of praise for Adele in the media was heart-warming, the sole focus upon her speech by the media was perhaps misguided. Instead, there could have been a stronger emphasis on the reasoning behind Lemonade’s snub and an examination of why black artists often lose out on awards that could be rightfully theirs. Her comments did, however, help spark a discourse surrounding racism in award shows, one that was overlooked following Beyoncé’s loss of the award to Beck during the 2015 Grammy Awards. With an increase of racist and misogynistic

adele bowed rhetoric occurring in the present political climate, there is an opportunity for more white female celebrities to follow in the footsteps of Adele and utilize their platforms to speak out against inequality by uplifting and projecting the voices of women of colour. White women tend to have larger platforms upon which to spread their messages—just look anywhere from the actresses of Hollywood to the models of Instagram, where white women dominate through their popularity. To acknowledge this privilege is a step towards showing women of colour the same sort of dedication to equality that they have shown us during their longstanding participation in a feminism that has often overlooked the intersections of race, sexuality, and gender. Instead of speaking above and for women of colour, white women should instead utilize their privilege in a way that uplifts and maximizes the voices of those left unheard. White celebrities with large followings like Brie Larson, who uses her Instagram to share the first-hand stories of women of colour, and Rowan Blanchard, who uses her social media to promote action and activism, are examples of how white women can become aware of their unique position of privilege and use their voices to advocate for those who are often overlooked or silenced. The feminism of the white suffragettes, who ignored the plights of women of colour to gain their own individual rights, is being replaced by the feminism of today: one that wholeheartedly acknowledges, welcomes, and empowers women from all walks of life. So, how can white people in places of privilege strive to do better? It begins with a thorough self-education on the nuances of intersectional feminism, an education that can be started through accessible websites like Everyday Feminism or Bitch Media, or in works such as Bad Feminist by Roxanne Gay or We Should All Be Feminists by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Working to educate and call out racist aggressions and microaggressions in others is a pursuit feminists must take up in order to progress towards equality. Take your first steps as an ally by standing up against racially motivated conflicts that can appear as nonchalant as explaining to a family member why that racist joke wasn’t so funny, or as immediately proactive

as standing up against racially motivated assailants. Utilizing your voice on social media is the best starting point in our digitally saturated era; posting nuanced and educated opinions about the injustices of today can help begin the education process for your family, friends, and social media followers. Learn how to use reliable and unbiased news sources, and stop picking and choosing what inequalities to care about. Put yourself in the habit of responding to and participating in the discourse surrounding all miscarriages of justice. A more physical display of your solidarity would be attending the protests and rallies that fight for racial equality. Just as women of colour stood up for the entirety of womanhood during the Women’s Marches on Washington, white women need to protest the treatment of all marginalized persons. Whether it’s the Indigenous peoples who have been mistreated for centuries, unchecked police brutality and injustice for its victims, the demonization of trans women through bathroom bills, or the ever apparent Islamophobia that is rearing its ugly head across the globe. As allies, white women need to become more active in our participation with intersectional feminism by using our privileged positions to protect, stand up for, and project the voices of those often silenced. Women of colour have stood with and for us since the dawn of feminism, and our time to return the dedication they have shown for womanhood is long overdue.

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SISTERHOOD SOLIDARITY IN FEMALE FRIENDSHIP CHLOE MUNN

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women are a form of activismâ&#x20AC;&#x201D;we claim our space, our multifaceted individ-

uality, our gaze, and our sexuality. Friendship between women is a particularly imaginative and daring form of activism, crucial to the future of our world. I present to you a loving gaze into one girlâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s closest friends and sisters who love in declarative fashion, creating worlds within each other.

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SIX IMAGINED WORDS BETWEEN TWO FRIENDS, CURRENTLY APART EMMA LAILEY PHOTO BY ROSA KUMAR You’ve been gone for a while.

Since Severny, it’s been two minutes to midnight.

Honestly, it feels like a flash.

…

What do you know?

But it hasn’t been that close since—

Not much. Not a lot. Pretty much nothing. There was no internet so... just your letters. Just what you sent, what you told me.

1953. I know. And…[breath] This is more recent but... there was another washup in Greece. Another boy. [breath] But no one is trying to identify this one, no one is trying to find his name. They’ve just labelled him the “Next Alan Kurdi,” and clicked their approval [break]—I just don’t—

I barely told you anything. …You sent me forty articles. I don’t mean to scare you... but in comparison to what’s happened since January, I barely wrote you anything.

I had no idea.…I mean, I knew tensions were high, but all of this...I-I-…. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.

[swallow] What has been done? Tell me slowly. Everything within our rights. And...a little beyond those. I don’t have all the details. Information attacks so quickly, it’s difficult to understand but, here is what I know: travel ban, part four. Slightly different, same idea [breath]. The pound continues to climb but the dollar has barely moved since April’s fallout [breath]. Seven new planets discovered, Trappist 1, three habitable. But rumour has it there are more, hidden, in secret [breath]. More broken promises on our part, but that was predicted long ago. Support is wavering, but we know it could always be worse [breath]. The Bulletin advanced the clock again, two weeks ago. The Doomsday Clock? You mailed an article about that in February. What time is it now?

Were we heard? Globally. But that means nothing since everything is now a day. It’s not about being heard anymore... every opinion has already been voiced, every story has already been reported, and it just repeats every minute of every hour of every day. No... It’s about being listened to. But how... Would it be so wrong if we opened our arms? And just... stopped.

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HOW WE ARE RAISED: BEARING THE WEIGHT OF SOCIAL CONSTRUCTS CHARLÈNE HANANIA PHOTO BY ROSA KUMAR Feminism is a broad term, advocating for a wide array of needs, voices, and beliefs. The gendered aspects of socialization that begin as early as childhood solidify our preassigned values and our interpretation of feminism. The way our parents raise us is, generally, biased and heavily gendered. Both chores and toys are often determining factors in creating gendered roles for children: little girls tend to be given dolls to play with, whereas boys get trucks and soldiers; girls often clean tables and do laundry, while boys are assigned to chores associated with physical labour. These activities ingrain gender roles. Girls are educated on how to organize households and hone their maternal instincts, while boys are taught to be strong and competitive, and not to “whine like a girl.” This puts pressure on both genders to conform to their roles. A friend of mine once said that men are taught to reach for bright futures and women to please men. The media and pop culture participate heavily in sustaining and enforcing these roles. Most women’s magazines exclusively discuss make-up, fashion, and celebrities; however, while discussing these futile subjects, it also helps women recognize the stereotypes put forth by society. Most men’s magazines will dis-

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cuss more serious matters such as business, architecture, politics, or stories of success. These categories are all interesting in their own right, but they shape gender roles and define each one’s interests. Another example of the media’s influence in this regard can be seen in the world of superheroes. There are very few female super-heroes, and the ones we have are heavily sexualized. Catwoman’s outfit places emphasis on her hyper-sexualised physique, rather than her capabilities. Wonder Woman is one exceptional feminist character but her representation in Hollywood is minor. Her last iteration, in Batman vs. Superman, had her sharing the screen as a supporting role between the two male main characters—not allowing her any time in the spotlight. Our upbringing plays a key role in how we unconsciously define women or men as naturally better at some disciplines. “Men are better at math because they are rational” was commonly mentioned while I was growing up; this implies that in turn, women are irrational and allow their emotions to control them. The idea that women are more complicated, emotional, or weak strictly comes from societal constructs, as there is no coherent explanation for it. Gendered up-

bringing also affects the socialization of boys, as there is a great deal of pressure on them to be the emotionally strong and analytically decisive. It is important to consider both sides of gender relations between men and women if one wishes to change the construction of gender norms. While growing up in Paris, France, I witnessed several displays of sexism and misogyny. The traditional and highly gendered linguistic structure of the French language is inherently flawed and closed-minded, causing it to leave out important aspects of social activism. It genders words and does not include a neutral pronoun, reflecting an underlying sexism based on social structure. Language is able to define cultural norms through communication. For example, the word to define a male pig “cochon” in French stays to its meaning. Meanwhile, the female pig “cochonne” is both used for the animal, but also as the word “slut.” This duality is one of many that are sexist and derogatory; these nuances of language allow for a wider vocabulary to perpetuate sexism in French society. While words cannot lose their meaning, their usage can be diminished. In the French education system, high school is divided into three branches: literature, economics, and sciences. Literature programs are mainly comprised of girls—the grade below me while I was attending high school had four boys and 28 girls—while economics is a mixed section, and science has mostly boys. This would not be a problem if the arts were recognized as much as the sciences. In high school, it was often said that the literary students were not hard-workers. The science students were acknowledged as better and harder working. Privileging one

discipline over another, while claiming one gender to be better in one field, makes equality in education difficult to attain. Especially in education, counsellors push girls towards the arts and do not give them the opportunity to explore the sciences. These differences remain in university and jobs, as men still hold higher-paid positions and dominate STEM fields. These structural inequalities need to be fixed, but for it to happen, women must be seen as equal. Constructs of gender norms need to change, but it won’t be effective until we teach our own children not to differentiate the capacities of individuals between genders. I think women have won a great deal through time, but this last little push towards equality needs to take place. Here is my feminism, the one I want to teach my children: I want to be given the opportunity to be as strong as my brother. I don’t want to choose between my personal life and my career. I want people to stop saying that women are emotional and weak. I want to have mixed-gendered friendships without it implying a romance. I want people to see the human before the gender, race, and religion. I want feminism to be a broad philosophy where everyone finds their part. I want peaceful equity with men. I want partnerships. I want men and women to face the same challenges. I want them to get same opportunities.

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THE FACEBOOK DISCOURSE: QUESTIONING HOW SOCIAL MEDIA MARKETS ACTIVISM KODY MCCANN Home

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Recently, we have seen Facebook provide its users with the option to change their profile pictures in support of places or groups after attacks or disasters occur. When Paris, France, was attacked by the Islamic State in November of 2015, Facebook users had the option to overlay their profiles pictures with the French flag, in support of the country. After the attack on the Orlando’s Pulse Nightclub in June of 2016, Facebook users had the option to overlay their profile pictures with the rainbow flag. There was a broad acceptance of this service, but Facebook did face backlash for specifically prompting users to support France

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when there had been a terrorist attack the day before in Beirut, Lebanon. They faced continued outcry after there was an attack in Baghdad, Iraq, days later, having again failed to provide a similar option in light of this tragedy. If Facebook decides which causes to support, then does Facebook implicitly determine our cultural values when it comes to activism? To an extent, the answer is yes; Facebook chooses specific instances where it offers its users a uniquely “Facebook” way to show support. Is Facebook allowed to do that? In this regard, Facebook is like many other

organizations who have taken a certain political stand or promoted their specific agenda. Usually, it is easy to express outrage at a service or product when the organization takes a political stance on a current issue. In the United States, Starbucks has supported hiring refugees as a policy and, as a result, groups of Americans opposing this decision have decided to boycott Starbucks. With that said, boycotting a coffee shop is easy, given that alternatives like Tim Hortons or Dunkin Donuts are often just across the street. Chick-fil-A is another example, as they take a very conservative stance on same-sex marriage. However, just like Starbucks, there’s usually a Wendy’s or Subway right across the street. Boycotting social media is much different—one cannot simply walk across the street to a similar competitor. With something as pervasive as social media, there is an assumption of neutrality among providers such as Facebook. When companies take political stances, it makes the news. However, these companies do not undergo the same scrutiny as social media sites like Facebook in instances such as these. Facebook essentially has a monopoly over the social media sector, owning Instagram and Whatsapp, among other services. But objectively, Facebook is just another company—one that revolutionized media, but a company all the same. The owners and operators of Facebook have the right to express themselves through their company just like a citizen has the right to express themselves and consume any goods or services available to them. So, we must ask: is Facebook a neutral body? And, does it have to be? The answer to both questions, technically, is no. The outcry against Facebook supporting France over other countries evoked calls of Eurocentrism, but Facebook has the legal right to operate this way. If Facebook allowed its users to overlay their profile pictures with the Lebanese flag, would there have been similar outcry? We must again ask: is Facebook allowed to do this? Facebook is used for hundreds of reasons, including activism, and is constantly used as a medium for political organization. At the University

of Toronto, free speech and trans rights protests have both used Facebook for their respective political organization and action. Globally, it has been used in revolutions in Tunisia and Egypt, among many other examples. Does this set Facebook apart? Mark Zuckerberg grapples with the idea of Facebook becoming “arbiters of truth.” This decision is tremendously important. If Facebook decides its political agenda is more valuable than not alienating its users, what is stopping it from promoting an agenda? We have entered a world focused on social media and the instant, online dissemination of information—something that, 15 years ago, did not exist. A liberal-minded, and often urban-dwelling, person’s values tend to align with Silicon Valley executives. What if these ideas and beliefs Facebook considered worthwhile to promote were not mirrored by these demographics? Would Facebook see an exodus of users? Once the #DeleteFacebook trend was dispersed, where would Facebook be? I am willing to bet that it would still be around. As Facebook continues to change the way we form human connections, it must be held to a different standard. We cannot allow Facebook to selectively determine our values, with the rainbow and French flags serving as prime examples. It is easy to ignore when those symbols support extremely important causes, but it must go both ways; Facebook should not be allowed to promote extreme nationalism or racist ideology either. Its goal of connecting people has a higher implication and should be treated as such. The service it provides is not coffee or a chicken sandwich—its intangible. As more and more people rely on Facebook, and its services become more fundamental to the society we create, we must demand it be held to a higher standard. As social media activism becomes more and more a part of how people participate in democracy, we must acknowledge that these services we use are transcending aspects of humanity that they did not originally set out to transcend. The services must adapt as we do.

BOYCOTTING SOCIAL MEDIA IS MUCH DIFFERENT— ONE CANNOT SIMPLY WALK ACROSS THE STREET TO A SIMILAR COMPETITOR

With notes from Greg de Salaberry Seljak.

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JANUARY 20, 2017 JULIA BALM

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The creature who sips your voice out of the narrative sits at the head of the table and feasts on your fruit with his small orange fingers and nail beds of dirt. Blind eyes wonâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t dull the acidic tang which dangles off the tongue of this beast who speaks of fear-ridden landscapes. These landscapes of tumbleweed heat waves and nuclear desolation multiply between each sip of blood wine. The lack of oxygen in the air suffocates all but the beast who sucks it dry and steals all the best words. You clap endlessly after he finishes his fruit, for he has confused you and turned you into a star-spangled keychain on his white house keys.

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are you an activist SURVEY OF OPINIONS AND BELIEFS CONTRASTED WITH ACTUAL CAMPAIGNING

VICTORIA LONDON

GENEVIEVE WAKUTZ 32

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Most people associate activism with strong images of protests, marches, and demonstrations. Before exploring this topic at length, our own (the authors’) images of activism were limited. The imagined activist was very specific, and the vision very narrow: a picketer with a bold-lettered sign, someone outspoken with a megaphone—like the eloquent and powerful speakers at the Women’s March who made the world think seriously about a major issue. Compared to these people, how could we possibly be qualified to speak on the topic of activism? Activism is defined in the Oxford English Dictionary as “active participation or engagement in a particular sphere of activity; specifically, the use of vigorous campaigning to bring about political or social change.” Referring to this definition of activism, we are not activists because we do not vigorously campaign. But we have strong beliefs, and feel deeply connected to major social and environmental issues. I feel like an activist. Take a minute to think about it: would you consider yourself an activist? Do you support causes and contribute to their success? Did you rally your university to divest from fossil fuels, write a paper on marginalized voices, or decide to buy a more expensive product because it was from an ethical company? When we look at it this way, activism is different for everybody, so perhaps it should not be defined so narrowly. In order to gauge the general perceptions of activism that exist today and to learn more about the stigma around it, we asked a collection of people (students, recent grads, and older adults), through a survey, about their thoughts on the subject. We seek to redefine and broaden the definition of activism to include a wider range of actions that encourage more people to stand up for what they believe in and more freely engage in activist endeavors. Most of the older adults in our survey described an activist, in summary, as someone who voices their opinion on a matter and stands up for what they believe in. This alternative definition of activism is more inclusive, and invites more people to be considered activists than the OED’s definition of “vigorous campaigning.” There was still a portion of those questioned, however, who seemed to have a more specific and stereotypical image in their heads. When asked what behaviour is associated with activism, many referenced loud, aggressive behaviour and attention-grabbing public acts. These types of responses served to illustrate the stereotypes surrounding activism today. One person questioned about the type of behaviour associated with activism, listed “burning

your bra” as a typical activity. These displays may have been seen by some people as the only way to create change, and this is perhaps the reason that others felt as though they were not participating “properly” in a cause. Many people listed several beliefs and issues that they were passionate about before apologizing for not being more involved with them. Clearly, those surveyed did not think that their current actions, even in their multiplicity, count as activism—whether or not this is true is unclear.

THE MAJORITY OF THE SURVEYED ADULTS DID NOT DESCRIBE THEMSELVES AS ACTIVISTS, WHILE THE STUDENTS AND RECENT GRADS WERE SPLIT The majority of the surveyed adults did not describe themselves as activists, while the students and recent grads were split. Those who believed they were activists had a very different definition of activism than those who said no. Individuals that did not consider themselves activists thought of activism more in terms of a largescale public display, seeking to provoke change, rather than subtle lifestyle choices. Although most people defined activism as participation in large demonstrations, the majority of surveyed individuals also defined activism as standing up for what you believe in. According to this definition, many more individuals would be considered activists, and more importantly, participants in major issues that are larger than themselves. Through widening this definition and looking at activism from a different perspective, individuals may feel motivated to continue actively pursuing these larger issues. People that identify with activism may not agree that the term activist should be extended to include those that have not put in as much effort and heart into large-scale demonstrations and difficult lifestyle changes as they (those who identify as activists) have. Unlike dedicated activists, the average person has not participated in more overt forms of activism. Similarly, we do not want to diminish the importance of largescale and long-term efforts. We want to encourage individuals to stand up for what they believe in, understanding the value of their actions, big or small.

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In our surveyed group, only one individual mentioned collaborating on lawsuits and lobbying government officials as a form of activism. This person also listed ethical investing as something that they personally participated in, but focused on lobbying and lawsuits as seemingly more legitimate activities, thus dismissing their own legitimacy in the process. Further to this point, 70 percent of people that thought they had not supported their beliefs realized that they actually had, in some form or another. From this, it could be inferred that people are focusing too much on the most recognized forms of activism, the most “legitimate,” and discounting other acts which could also be counted towards positive change. Perhaps lawsuits and lobbying government officials are not necessarily the only important things, in the context of many other forms of participation. Simply changing a definition will not largely impact activist contributions and the amount of people that support a cause. The larger issue at hand is that many people hesitate to change their lifestyle choices because they do not believe that their actions will make a difference. Despite the significant number of people in the survey who were concerned about not being able to affect change, the majority also mentioned participating in small-scale examples of change-making activities. The 60 percent of our survey group who did not describe themselves as activists then went on to describe activities they take part in—such as vegetarianism, buying cruelty-free products, signing petitions, and volunteering. Furthermore, the majority of those surveyed did not believe that they were activists and said they were not involved in activities traditionally associated with activism, yet after telling us what they had done, realized that they were more active than they thought. One person who did not describe themselves as an activist then went on to hypothesize that small acts can make the biggest difference. “Trying to make a difference” is vague, but at the end of the day, we think that what is important are shared beliefs, even in small ways (through conversations with people you know). It would be a shame to assume that these activities do not have any effect or even generate some influence for change, however small. Activism seems to be split in terms of its definition. For some, it requires a dedicated, large-scale display, whereas for others, activism is about promoting certain causes in one’s personal life. This may be an eye-opener for those of us who never considered ourselves activists and those who do not participate in marches or

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protests, but partake in other, more private activities. Causes we have incorporated into our lives, such as riding a bicycle to school or work instead of driving a car, choosing cruelty-free products, and participating in charity events, can be considered small acts of activism. It is the production of positive changes in the world that should be the primary concern of activism, and not the scale or type of activity prevailed upon to achieve this. Many of us who have never considered this about ourselves can, therefore, be considered activists on some level or another. It's not about discounting traditional activism, but ridding activism of its stereotypes and encouraging everyone to support the causes in which they believe. Elevating the worth of small-scale activities is not to suggest that one can become an activist by doing the bare minimum, but rather that fighting for what you believe in can be incorporated into your life in more ways than one. We should not limit ourselves by a narrow definition of activism, as this is likely to prevent us from getting involved at all. Defining activism in such rigid terms may prevent individuals from participating in change-making activities because they do not consider certain behaviors as acts of activism. After reading the responses to our survey, we would like to think that there are a wide range of activists from smallscale to large-scale, and from quiet to bold. An effort to promote change does not need to be dramatic; a small act may have a greater effect than one may think. It is not our place to say whether or not one act or another is worthwhile. But, what we can say is that if you are passionate about something, do whatever you can to get involved in it. Activism is not for the activist, but for the cause, and if you believe you are doing justice to support an issue, then who is anyone else to label you?

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