The Strand | Vol. 64, Issue 4

the

STRAND VICTORIA UNIVERSITY’S STUDENT NEWSPAPER VOLUME 64, ISSUE 4 | 12 OCTOBER 2021

Renaming Ryerson House and equity at Vic NEWS | PAGE 3

On loving and hating white women FEATURES | PAGE 8

Toronto through the camera lens ARTS AND CULTURE | PAGE 14

EDITORS | DREW-ANNE GLENNIE AND SARAH ABERNETHY NEWS@THESTRAND.CA

02 NEWS

VUSAC Fall 2021 elections results A summary of the winners for the contested positions in this fall’s VUSAC elections MATHULA MUHUNDAN CONTRIBUTOR

Victoria College students have yet again voted in another fall election for Victoria University Students' Administrative Council (VUSAC), including the positions of: Vice-President Internal; Mental Wellness and Equity Commissioners; candidates for the Victoria University Senate, Victoria College Council, and Board of Regents; Councillors; and International Councillor. The results of the election were announced publicly on September 30 after an appeals period and were ratified at a VUSAC meeting on October 1. A summary of the results is presented below.

Councillors The councillor positions remained the most widely contested this year, with 11 candidates running for eight positions. Three first-year positions are reserved amongst them, while three additional positions are reserved for upper years.

Bright Anthony, Shane Joy, Thomas Keough, Rebecca Muscant, Tiffany Seo, David Zhang, Jocelyn Mattka, and Dixshant Shree Shreemal

were the eight candidates who were elected. They will contribute to the Victoria College student government with versatility, given their ability to interact with any of the seven commissions of VUSAC as well as other executive members.

Vice-President Internal The Vice-President Internal position will be held by Tabina Ahmed for the upcoming year. The integral executive role involves maintaining the internal structure of VUSAC by managing council operations, policies, and relations.

Commissioners: Mental Wellness and Equity Two commissioner positions were contested in this election (Mental Wellness and Equity), while two remain unfilled (Commuter and Arts & Culture). Of the two candidates for Mental Wellness, Erin Hill will be VUSAC’s Mental Wellness Commissioner, with plans to promote awareness of mental health issues through educational events and programming geared towards Vic students. Cameron Miranda-Radbord will serve as VUSAC’s new Equity Commissioner and will aim to facilitate diverse equity events, as

well as focus on inclusive and accessible initiatives and training for the council and executives of clubs and levies.

International Councillor VUSAC’s International Councillor position was contested by two candidates this fall. Tazneen Tamanna Mahmud will be taking the helm as International Councillor, and aims to support the international student population at Victoria College through accessible programming designed to ease international students into the Vic community.

Board of Regents, Victoria University Senate and Victoria College Council The two available Board of Regents positions will now be held by Cameron Miranda-Radbord and Liam Sinclair-Thompson. Derek Akkiprik and Yuntong (Elsa) Jia will be the two Victoria University Senate representatives, and Yuntong (Elsa) Jia, Ming Xi (Jason) Liu, and Robert Wu will serve as three of five representatives of the Victoria College Council, with two remaining uncontested positions.

Students hit hard by last-minute course delivery changes

PHOTO | CHANGBOK KO

Here’s what they have to say about it MAEVE ELLIS CONTRIBUTOR

Ever since she accepted her offer of admission, Hannah Elmallakh, a current first-year life sciences student, has been excited about the biology labs that she would dive into during university. But she did not expect she would be doing them alone, on her dorm room’s wooden desk without any equipment. “It just [feels] like a lecture with extra work,” she told The Strand. “I was expecting they'd still have some online classes… But stuff like my bio class, that was supposed to be fully in-person— and then a week before I came here, they were like, ‘it's asynchronous now.’”

Across campus, many students face similar challenges. Lissy Hutchinson, a first-year studying social sciences, wishes she could be spending more time poring over her psychology and criminology readings and less time combing through her teachers’ various online interfaces. “I have multiple textbooks that are on completely different platforms,” she vented. “A few days ago I tried getting into a tutorial and the password just was not working and this is such a stupid issue, because if they were in-person I would be there. I’m on top of that type of stuff.”

Elmallakh and Hutchinson are only two of the hundreds of University of Toronto students who are finding their way through the University’s second

hybrid-online year. Though the administration has already had a full year of experience with virtual learning, challenges remain for everyone, such as a lack of social interaction and having last-minute course changes made.

A frequent complaint from the students who spoke to The Strand was not about the online or inperson classes themselves, but about classes being swapped around at the last minute. One student, Luca (who asked to only be identified by his first name), told The Strand that he chose his courses based on whether they would be in-person or not.

He said, “I had specifically taken the more difficult chemistry class because I thought it was going to be in-person. So I thought it would be easier to study with people, but then they decided to make it go fully online. So now, I'm kind of stuck.”

There were also many comments among students about the University’s choice to not lower tuition costs to make up for a partially online school year. Patrick O’Brien, a third-year studying history, international relations, and religious studies, remarked, “With most institutions I'm fine with paying more for a pandemic. My favourite local restaurants have hiked prices, which is fine—they need the cash to keep doors open. That being said, there is a difference between a family restaurant and the richest school in Canada.”

Alongside the academic challenges associated with online school, many students brought

up the issues they face with socialization.

Natalie Domegan, a first-year student studying international relations and education, said, “I think a lot of the networking opportunities are lost with online stuff. A lot of what university is for is meeting people that will help you get jobs, and you kind of miss out on that when stuff goes online.”

Gittel Markman, a first-year economics student, added, “I think one of the worst things, though, is that it’s really hard to connect with professors.”

Nonetheless, many students recognize the need to look past these challenges. Eric Fishback, a third-year philosophy major, said that compared to last year’s online schooling, this year “feels a lot more engaged. Not only in terms of the class, but with the University. I’ve been receiving more emails from the University, there are more notifications about things happening.” Dante Crispino, a firstyear studying humanities, told The Strand, “there are things I like about online school… I expected more of the online classes to be in-person. But I honestly don’t really mind, I’m just rolling with the punches.” Philip Amitan, a first-year in social sciences also echoed the sentiment, saying, “I definitely did feel a little ripped off when I found out that a couple of my classes were online… But I don’t feel like I’m getting ripped off too badly.

That’s the best way of putting it.”

NEWS 03

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 12 OCTOBER 2021

ILLUSTRATION | SEAVEY VAN WALSUM

Unravelled:

Renaming Ryerson House and equity at Vic ROY SHI STAFF WRITER

In June 2019, the Board of Regents of Victoria University requested that the Office of the President investigate the legacy of Egerton Ryerson due to his work in establishing the Residential School system in Canada, a system which led to the cultural genocide of Indigenous peoples for over a century.

Egerton Ryerson was the first President and Principal of Victoria University during its founding in 1836 as Upper Canada Academy.

In 2019, Ryerson’s name was used for Ryerson House, a student residence on campus; the Ryerson Scholarship at Emmanuel College; and the Ryerson Graduate Scholarship at Victoria College. The Ryerson Stream of Victoria College’s first-year Vic One program was used to honour Egerton Ryerson as well, before the name was changed to the Education Stream in 2019.

Over the next two years, the Office of the President, led by Victoria University President William Robins, assembled a research panel consisting of four researchers, two of whom were Indigenous, to investigate Egerton Ryerson’s legacy.

Their findings, published in President Robins’s Presidential Report on the Legacy of Egerton Ryerson in June 2021, stated that Ryerson “was part of a colonizing enterprise aimed at ‘Christianizing’ and ‘civilizing Indigenous peoples.’” The research panel recommended that “Victoria University no longer use Ryerson’s name in an honorific manner” on the basis of these conclusions. In June 2021, President Robins “accept[ed] the findings of the Research Panel” and “recommend[ed] that the Board of Regents of Victoria University return the residence called ‘Ryerson House’ to its original name of ‘First House.’”

The findings of the Research Panel during Victoria University’s investigation of Egerton Ryerson are nothing new. As early as August 2010, X University’s Aboriginal Education Council had found that “Egerton Ryerson contributed to the concept of the residential school system” in their report, Egerton Ryerson, the Residential School System and Truth and Reconciliation.

When asked why Victoria University failed to address the honorific use of Ryerson’s name in the nine years since X University’s report brought Ryerson’s disturbing legacy to the public eye, Victoria University spokesperson Liz Taylor Surani directed The Strand to equity-related initiatives at the University instead.

Victoria University’s belated response to the honorific use of Egerton Ryerson’s name may reveal a trend in the University’s recent focus on

issues of equity, inclusion, and diversity.

The Victoria University Strategic Framework 2021-2026 iterates a commitment to create “a strong, inclusive community” with specific commitments such as “expanding equity... initiatives across the University, with a special focus on antiracism.” The Strand was unable to find any other Strategic Frameworks or other formal commitments to equity from the University that existed prior to this document.

When asked which specific issues in relation to equity, diversity, and inclusion that the Strategic Framework intended to address, the Victoria University spokesperson stated that the University will be "[diving] into these intentions over the coming years."

However, when asked about the specific equity, diversity, and inclusiveness initiatives that Victoria University has engaged in over the last five years, Victoria University told The Strand that “Victoria University’s administrative staff … completed antibias training” and that “anti-racism training and Accessibility for Ontarians with Disabilities Act (AODA) customer service standards are provided to staff on an ongoing basis.” Additionally, “many faculty have been adding Indigenous content and coverage of Equity, Diversity, Inclusion and Accessibility (EDIA) topics into their courses.”

Victoria University spokesperson Liz Taylor Surani also told The Strand that “the Dean has ensured that staff and student leaders, such as residence dons, receive additional training in EDIA issues, including bystander training, antibias training and peer mental health support.”

In collaboration with VUSAC, Surani stated that “the [Campus Life Coordinator] works … to organize specific events such as the National Day of Action on Violence Against Women,” as well as providing the “Equity in Careers series” and “an anti-racism panel during Orientation Week.”

Victoria University said that “a position was created in November 2020 … for a counsellor to offer personal advising sessions for BIPOC-identified students” in response to student concerns and requests.

The University's spokesperson declined to explain how past equity, diversity, and inclusion initiatives have specifically helped faculty and students. The spokesperson referred The Strand to the Victoria University Strategic Framework when asked about the intended effects of such initiatives.

In addition to interviewing Victoria University staff, The Strand reached out to student organizations and leaders to ask about collaborative efforts with Victoria University administration on equity, diversity, and inclusion initiatives over the last five years.

In an interview with The Strand, VUSAC President Jerico Raguindin said that Victoria University matched “a portion of all donations” to the BIPOC Leadership Award and Counselor campaign, “leading to a bit over 50K in funds raised” during the 2020-2021 school year. He also told The Strand that “there have been … lobbying efforts to Victoria University and the Dean’s Office to start collecting ... equity-concerned data in order to inform decisions made about Victoria,” but that “not much progress has been made.”

Former VUSAC Vice President External and Equity Co-Chair Vibhuti Kacholia expanded on VUSAC’s lobbying efforts to the University, telling The Strand that “when I brought it up to administration, they told me that it would have to be a university-wide initiative as UofT dictates admissions and undergraduate statistics.”

Kacholia also elaborated on problems she faced in lobbying Victoria University administration, opining, “the biggest hurdles I faced at Vic was that there are so many hoops to jump through … for someone to listen. There’s just a ton that happens behind closed doors at Vic that students are not aware of, and many important decision makers at the University are not student-facing.”

The Strand also spoke to students at Victoria College about their experiences and thoughts about equity at the school.

Liv, a first-year student at Victoria College who uses she/they pronouns and asked to be identified by only their first name, said that “it’s been a little bit difficult to navigate accessibility services” in her time at the University, and noted that “some professors could be more understanding and open with students’ pronouns.” When asked about the renaming of Ryerson House, they said that “it’s a good step” but “they could also do some other work to make sure that Indigenous voices are heard.” In addressing the names of other buildings on the Victoria College campus, she said that “it can feel a little alienating if they’re only using one specific type of person.”

Many of the named buildings and areas on the Victoria College campus are named after white, cisgendered, and heterosexual individuals who were generally born around the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries.

Other students noted how Victoria University itself is named after Queen Victoria, who was the British and Canadian monarch between 1837 and 1901. During Queen Victoria’s reign, the British Empire colonized large parts of the world, and Queen Victoria herself has become a symbol of colonialism to many communities.

Victoria University's spokesperson declined to comment on student statements collected by The Strand.

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF | KHADIJA ALAM EDITOR@THESTRAND.CA

04 EDITORIAL

Journalism as storytelling

the

strand V O L U M E

Putting the "story" back in "news story"

6 4

PHOTO | HANA NIKCEVIC

editor-in-chief

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The Strand has been the newspaper of record for Victoria University since 1953. It is published 12 times a year with a circulation of 1200 and is distributed in Victoria University buildings and across the University of Toronto’s St. George campus.

The Strand flagrantly enjoys its editorial autonomy and is committed to acting as an agent of constructive social change. As such, we will not publish material deemed to exhibit racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, or other oppressive language.

@STRANDPAPER WWW.THESTRAND.CA

KHADIJA ALAM EDITOR-IN-CHIEF

When I told my first-grade teacher that I wanted to be a storyteller when I grew up, I was thinking about writing the sorts of fairytales we’d read during storytime. Some 15 years later, while I don’t have any fictional works under my belt, I’d still consider myself a storyteller. (I did do a brief stint in writing Avengers fanfiction in middle school; no, I won’t elaborate, but you might be able to bribe me with a coffee).

A quick Google search of the word “story” results in myriad definitions, but most of them include three key words: “narrative,” “events,” and “people.” I don’t think that many people associate “news” with “stories” and I can think of a few reasons why.

With the 24-hour news cycle, and its abilities to allow pieces of stories to be released bit by bit, it can become difficult to follow a cohesive narrative.

Alternatively, the 24-hour news cycle can burn us out to the point of not wanting to follow along at all. A lot of news can also feel like it’s missing that “people” aspect in a “story.” The everyday understanding of the principle of “objectivity”—the notion that news is devoid of bias—masks the fact that different journalists convey different narratives through their reporting because we all have unique lived experience. And let’s not forget about strategic uses of passive voice that serve to obfuscate actors in a story and shift the focus from “people doing actions” to “actions occurring.”

Despite all these criticisms, storytelliing is at the heart of journalism—especially the types of slow journalism that The Strand aims to produce. As the editor of this newspaper, I consider my job to literally be to help people tell stories.

Welcome to issue four of The Strand; allow me to tell you about the stories you can find within these pages. In News, Roy Shi examines the impacts of equity initiatives at Vic. In Opinions, Gabriel Sanchez-Ortega discusses how “the underground man” has been transported from the pages of a Dostoevsky novel to our society. Elaine Lee delves into her journey to unlearn internalized racism in this issue’s Feature. In Science, Albert Cheng sheds light on why the principle of replication is becoming increasingly difficult to observe in academic papers. In Arts and Culture, Corinne Langmuir lists spots around the city that you’ve probably seen on the screen and can actually visit. In Stranded, Fabiha Saddat breaks down the phenomenon of “shower thoughts.”

And if you would like to share a story of your own, The Strand invites you to pitch one for our fall magazine, CAKE. Personal and creative essays, interviews or profiles, poetry, prose, short fiction, longform or literary journalism, artwork, comics, and photo essays on this theme are all welcomed. Any and all interpretations of the theme are encouraged. Pitches of a few sentences with an estimated word count and visual request, and/or any other inquiries, can be sent to magazine@thestrand.ca until October 15.

OPINIONS 07

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 12 OCTOBER 2021

The “underground man” in pandemic times GABRIEL SANCHEZ-ORTEGA CONTRIBUTOR

At the start of the pandemic, we saw the appearance of a peculiar type of character who has become symbolic of the political division and the misinformation of our time. This emergence has made some of our family gatherings awkward and unfortunate events. Many of us have had to block or unfollow certain people on social media who resemble this character. We’ve all seen such personas in the news.

During this period of isolation, many have wondered what caused such a character to emerge: the character of “the underground man.” Yet it seems little has been done to decipher their nature.

While reading Notes from The Underground— considered one of the first existential novels— written by Fyodor Dostoevsky in 1864, I found some interesting passages which I’d like to share with you in order to shed some light onto the phenomenon. The novel, which explores the depths of the human psyche presented as the confessions of a man alienated from the rest of the world, begins like this: “I am a sick man... I am a spiteful man. I am an unattractive man. I believe my liver is diseased.

However, I know nothing at all about my disease, and do not know for certain what ails me. I don't consult a doctor for it, and never have, though I have a respect for medicine and doctors. … No, I refuse to consult a doctor from spite. That you probably will not understand.”

Who could fail to recognize in this passage the mindset of some of these “yahoos”—as our premier ILLUSTRATION | SEAVEY VAN WALSUM

used to call them, before his unfortunate silence— who continue to deny the existence of COVID-19 and protest against vaccines?

The character of the “underground man,” who spurns reason out of spite even in the face of his own demise, has become all too common.

One should ask why someone would be willing to gamble with their own life. Is it not a senseless thing to risk your wellbeing on a whim? But there may be more to it: “And why are you so firmly, so triumphantly, convinced that only the normal and the positive— in other words, only what is conducive to welfare— is for the advantage of man? Is not reason in error as regards advantage? Does not man, perhaps, love something besides well-being? Perhaps he is just as fond of suffering? ... Man is sometimes extraordinarily, passionately, in love with suffering, and that is a fact. ... I hold no brief for suffering nor for well-being either. I am standing for...my caprice, and for its being guaranteed to me when necessary.”

I do not wish to suggest that the character from these “notes” is the same as COVID deniers, or the fringe groups of political extremism and conspiracy theorists like QAnon, or other similar groups.

This character exists now as an existential feeling that expresses itself in many ways in our society, and not only in those types of people we find extreme.

It is happening to family and friends, and it is happening to all of us—this sensation of looming despair, this feeling of existential dread that reason cannot readily appease or explain. There is simply

too much to worry about now.

Is it a coincidence, then, that in the age of the internet, so many people rally together to express a similar aimless suffering? Even the slightest inconvenience can turn into maladaptive anger: “I ask you, gentlemen, listen sometimes to the moans of an educated man of the nineteenth century suffering from toothache, on the second or third day of the attack, when he is beginning to moan, not as he moaned on the first day, that is, not simply because he has toothache, not just as any coarse peasant, but as a man affected by progress and European civilisation, a man who is ‘divorced from the soil and the national elements,’ as they express it now-a-days.”

Now let me ask you: if you had recently lost your job, if you had learned you had terminal cancer, if you were told you couldn’t go out to see your friends and woke up the next day with tooth decay and no proper health coverage, would you not want someone to blame?

Perhaps we should consider that the state of our world has had a deeper effect on our psyche than we thought, and that some of us have had better support systems to navigate these difficult times.

This is not to forgive the behaviour of those who recklessly endanger their lives and the lives of others, but simply an attempt to understand.

Because if their behaviour cannot be understood, then this denial of reason in place of spite will continue to grow.

As the underground man says: “My liver is bad—well let it get worse!”

EDITOR | EMMA PAIDRA OPINIONS@THESTRAND.CA

06 OPINIONS

Remembering Norm Macdonald, a relentless original

PHOTO | BRUNO EMMANUELLE JOSEPH STRAUSS CONTRIBUTOR

Norm Macdonald’s death this past September came out of nowhere. The 61-year-old comic, known for his time on Saturday Night Live in the 1990s, had been diagnosed with cancer nine years ago. Keeping the diagnosis under wraps made the announcement of his death all the more shocking–– it was also an incredibly Norm Macdonald thing to do.

Norm Macdonald was perhaps as pure a comedian as they come. At no point in his career, which took off in the stand-up scene of the late 1980s, did he prioritize anything over funny. It was this stubborn adherence to his craft that fuelled his string of deadpan, controversial, brilliantly pointed OJ Simpson jokes on SNL’s Weekend Update––even if, as the rumour goes, it cost him the highest profile gig of his career. So, in accordance with his belief that the joke trumped all else, Norm Macdonald refused to let news of his cancer inevitably shift how audiences would perceive him. He wanted to be funny, and for us to enjoy his work without being bogged down by feelings of pity.

While some of Macdonald’s SNL castmates went on to enjoy prolific careers in mainstream media, he occupied a more niche space. “I think a lot of people feel sorry for you if you were on SNL and emerged from the show anything less than a superstar,” wrote Macdonald in his 2016 sort-of-

memoir, Based on a True Story. “They assume you must be bitter. But it is impossible for me to be bitter. I’ve been lucky.”

Norm Macdonald never had that one careerdefining TV sitcom or movie role after his SNL departure, but he never seemed all that interested in mainstream stardom. His body of work included the cult comedy film Dirty Work, the TV series Norm (he played Norm), and, of course, some alltime great appearances on late-night talk shows.

But the thing he was most passionate about––his true life’s work––was stand-up.

“I’m always trying to work on stand-up comedy, trying to make it perfect,” said Macdonald in an interview, before adding with a smile that he knew he never would. “My dream always was I go onstage and just talk to the audience, and whatever subject they bring up, I already have a bit on it.” Never quite satisfied, he was engaged in this pursuit of comedic perfection throughout his career––perhaps it’s this obsession we can thank for the many hours of Norm Macdonald content available to binge on YouTube.

I suppose that’s where I fit into this piece. I can’t tell you anything about Norm Macdonald that isn’t available all over the internet. Myriad comedians and celebrities have eulogized and shared their favourite Norm stories—to say Norm Macdonald was the comic most respected by his peers would not be an exaggeration. Plus, if you do some digging, you’ll find an amazingly dedicated

fanbase of people who revere Norm to the point that they can quote him at practically any time in any conversation about any given topic––and who, in doing so, are in a way fulfilling Norm’s dream of comedic omniscience.

From a personal standpoint, Norm Macdonald was a hero of mine. As part of a student-run satire paper and a toe-dipper in the waters of stand-up, I look up to Norm for his fearlessness of telling the jokes that he found funny rather than pandering to his audience. In fact, watching clips of Norm on YouTube during most lunch periods in high school––particularly from his outrageously offkilter talk-show, Norm Macdonald Live––is what made me want to try comedy in the first place.

Much of Norm Macdonald’s career took place before I was born, or at least before I was a cognizant human being. Embarrassingly, I didn’t know who he was until I saw him in a commercial for KFC playing the role of Colonel Sanders. After a couple of Google searches and some Wikipedia scrolling, I realized why I vaguely recognized him: he was Burt Reynolds from Celebrity Jeopardy on SNL. Even with 20 years between the two roles, something about Norm Macdonald––his voice, his constant smirk, his airy demeanour––stood out so uniquely that anyone who’d seen him only once before would recognize him.

It’s no wonder he played a guy named Norm–– no matter what role he played, Norm Macdonald was always himself.

OPINIONS 05

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 12 OCTOBER 2021

Election reflection JONATHAN KATZ CONTRIBUTOR

For the fifteenth year in a row, global freedom declined in 2020, according to the American non-profit organization Freedom House. This democratic downturn was hastened by the COVID-19 pandemic, as autocrats ranging from Hungary's Orbán Viktor to Ethiopia’s Abiy Ahmed abused their emergency powers to consolidate control over their countries. Democracy is under attack worldwide, which is why I found it disheartening to see such cynicism over the federal election held this September.

The 44th Canadian general election was run effectively and safely. As always, Elections Canada successfully administered this election across our gargantuan country, enabling Canadians— whether from the largest condo developments in Toronto or from isolated communities like Churchill, Manitoba— to cast their ballots with (relative) ease. Aside from the disreputable People’s Party and a singular NDP campaign, there were no allegations of impropriety. For those weary of voting in a pandemic, Elections Canada provided several alternatives to voting on Election Day, including voting by mail, four days of advanced voting, and the special ballot at the returning offices. Reports of long lines at polls are unfortunate, but may reflect those who visited the polls during peak hours; my father got caught in a long line when he voted in the morning, but it took me all of five minutes to vote at the same poll at midday.

While the election was run well overall, it would be remiss not to mention certain issues. Elections

Canada’s inability to provide on-campus voting is both regrettable and perplexing, but the ease of voting in Canada lessened the blow. Students could still vote in their home ridings by mail or at the returning offices, and they could vote in their schooltime ridings. Admittedly, obtaining the proper documentation for the latter option could be difficult—but ID is not actually required to vote. Canada’s commitment to the sanctity of the vote allows individuals to cast their ballots without identification as long as another registered voter vouches for them.

More egregious than the lack of campus voting, however, were the added difficulties faced by marginalized Canadians voting this year.

There were reports that certain Indigenous fly-in communities did not have access to polling stations, which is shameful. Usually, residents in buildings owned by the Toronto Community Housing Corporation (TCHC), the City of Toronto’s public housing agency, can vote in polling centres located in their own buildings. Because of the pandemic, however, TCHC refused to allow these polls, severely impacting some residents.

For example, residents of 245 Dunn Avenue in my riding of Parkdale-High Park were not able to vote in their building, nor in the polling centre at the Bonar Presbyterian Church across the street.

Residents were also not allowed to vote in the Parkdale Branch of the Toronto Public Library, located a mere three-minute walk away. Instead, residents of 245 Dunn had to vote at the Argonaut Rowing Club, a 1.3 kilometre walk which crosses both Lakeshore Boulevard West and the Gardiner Expressway. This inconvenience was ridiculous,

especially as many residents of the complex have mobility issues that impair them from reaching their polls.

There is no denying that Prime Minister Justin Trudeau called this election in the hopes of parlaying his government’s successful vaccine procurement and emergency economic response into a majority government for the Liberal Party.

Displeasure at such opportunism is legitimate to an extent. But at a time when we are witnessing democratic rights being snuffed out across the globe, it is saddening to see fellow Canadians angered by the opportunity to choose their rulers, especially when billions lack such a privilege.

The fact that the new parliament will have a similar composition as the previous is irrelevant.

The actual result of the election neither justifies nor invalidates the election itself. Whether Trudeau had secured a majority or O’Toole had succeeded him as Prime Minister, the election would not be seen as “pointless,” as the result reflects the will of the nation. Likewise, the reconfirmation of the 2019 results are equally as reflective of the electorate, which is the fundamentally important aspect of an election.

Further contributing to public cynicism is how the opposition fanned it. After repeatedly claiming that the Prime Minister is unfit to lead and must be replaced, the opposition’s best campaign line is to complain that they have been given an opportunity to prove themselves right. The fact that the cost of the election was considered a bigger issue than the pandemic or climate change is unfortunate, because $600 million to decide Canada’s future seems like money well spent.

PHOTO | KISHORE UTHAMARAJ

08 FEATURES

EDITOR | ANNA SOKOLOVA FEATURES@THESTRAND.CA

ILLUSTRATION | SEAVEY VAN WALSUM

On loving and hating white women Reflections on the unlearning of internalized racism

FEATURES 09

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 12 OCTOBER 2021

ELAINE LEE CONTRIBUTOR

My own mother hasn’t shown me the same level of affection as Trump addressing white supremacists since I was 12, reads a tweet from January 6, the day of the attack on the United States Capitol in Washington, D.C. That entire afternoon, I lay belly-down on my bed, catatonically absorbing the news feed. With a double-digit number of tabs open on my laptop and my left thumb swiping past TikToks before I even finished watching them, I felt myself falling victim to the doom-scrolling spiral of my worst nightmares. I sent angry, minutes-long voice messages to my most politically aware friends, waiting for them to echo back the same frustration, waiting for that dot-dotdot signal of their imminent response on my phone screen, waiting for something, anything to ease the sinking feeling of being unable to do something, anything about what was going on in the world.

The tweet was written by someone who I had gone to high school with, and attached to it was Trump’s video response to the protests. Although I had never been particularly close with the author of the tweet, I had never harboured any dislike towards her either. I stared at the words on my screen and heard the dissonant clanging of alarm bells go off in my head. Something about the tweet felt out of touch, disconnected from reality. The contrast between the weight of white supremacy in comparison to her relatively sheltered life as a white woman, who went to a private all-girls school in downtown Toronto, felt almost comical to me. All for a predictable punchline that capitalized on the destructively chaotic state of US politics in under 280 characters.

Maybe I was being harsh, or too dismissive of what was probably a very real issue in her life. She’s on our side, I reminded myself. She’s critiquing the white supremacists. I sent the tweet to my friend, who is Black and Indian. She responded, Black Twitter is so superior in every possible way. (True.) Followed by, What’s with white women and dragging mommy issues into everything?

The truth is, the two of us have a conversation about how much we hate white women at least once every few months. The scenario I just described quickly devolved into a “let’s bash white women” festival of us sharing our worst experiences with the “Karen” archetype and recalling the funniest instances of white women on Instagram reposting pastelcoloured infographics in the name of “wokeness” while simultaneously failing to address the racist behaviours of those in their inner circles.

To flip the “I’m not a racist, I have [insert nonwhite race] friends!” tactic on its back, both of us have many close friends who are white women, partially as a result of the environment we grew up in. Some of the most thoughtful, productive conversations about race I’ve ever had were with white women. Besides, it’s a running joke between me and some of my friends that my type is “average white girl.” Embarrassingly, this is at least somewhat grounded in truth.

In short, I apparently hate white women yet am disproportionately attracted to them. How can both of these things be true?

I read Cathy Park Hong’s excellent book of essays Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning after

the Atlanta spa shooting in March of this year. She writes: “Racial self-hatred is seeing yourself the way the whites see you, which turns you into your own worst enemy. Your only defense is to be hard on yourself, which becomes compulsive, and therefore a comfort, to peck yourself to death.”

For as long as I can remember, being outspoken about racism felt natural to me, like stepping into a new pair of shoes that hug your toes just right. But even then, I stuck to topics that felt “safe,” in that they only critiqued my external world: representation in the media; colourism; anti-Black racism in Asian communities. I removed the first-person pronoun and jabbed fingers at others. Nuanced conversations about race thrilled me and I felt a self-assured righteousness in my crusade for equality.

At the same time, being aware of racial dynamics in my life is a double-edged sword. Though it occurs mostly at a subconscious level, racial dynamics carve out the nuances of my interactions with others, what I choose to share about my life and what I choose to keep to myself, and the people I surround myself with. “To peck myself to death” meant the constant search for validation of my belonging, whether explicit or implied, from white people. In middle school, this looked like dragging my mom to Brandy Melville to buy me overpriced, unexciting tank tops.

In high school, I would experience intense bursts of anxiety whenever a white friend came over out of fear that there would be carefully concealed judgement of the worn slippers scattered throughout the house or the tray of Chinese sauces and seasonings in the kitchen.

In hindsight, I’m certain that I’m far from the only one who’s experienced this, but there’s a quiet shame that comes with admitting the impact of internalized racism on your psyche. It’s that tiny squeak of a voice in your head that says, Why does it bother you if no one else seems to care? Or There are way bigger issues in the world—child trafficking is literally a thing and you’re worried about this? Biggest of all: They won’t understand how it feels.

White supremacy is designed to alienate and pit people against each other, to remove vocabularies of solidarity and community. Another quotation from Hong’s book that stood out to me was: “Most white Americans can only understand racial trauma as a spectacle [...] What's harder to report is not the incident itself but the stress of its anticipation. The white reign of terror can be invisible and cumulative, chipping away at one's worth until there's nothing left but self-loathing.”

What brought about my reckoning—and an explosion of Asian Canadian and Asian American individuals finally voicing their frustrations—was the upsurge in anti-Asian racism during COVID-19, culminating in the devastating Atlanta shootings. It was certainly a “spectacle” that even white people understood to be unequivocally bad, and made them more likely to try and empathize or take action.

Part of me wishes that I could say that I seized the moment to mobilize, take action, educate, and make a change. Another part, a kinder and more forgiving part of myself, realizes that what I actually did during that week was nothing to be ashamed of.

This is what I actually did: at the time I had been dating a white person (who navigated the world being perceived as a woman most of the time, though they identified as non-binary). The evening of the

day that the news broke, I asked them to come over and I cried for at least an hour. I like to talk. I’m an extrovert at heart and I process my feelings through words, whether this means ranting to a friend or journaling. But in that moment, I was speechless: words tumbled through my head in a haphazard and directionless dance.

Afterwards, with me puffy-eyed and still sniffling, we played a round of Bananagrams. The shuffle and clink of plastic pieces across the table calmed me. I promptly won, and laughed.

One thing that stood out to me that night; they said, “I’m so sorry—I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.” Which was okay. Their compassion and care was what I needed at that moment. It does, however, embody the reason why I find myself drawn to those with white female privilege. There’s a soft safety and simplicity in being with someone whose racial identity does not further complicate their sense of self. In other words, it could also be described as a twisted reassurance to the tiny voice in my head that still murmurs, Not everyone thinks about race regularly, and people will know that you belong now that you’re seen in public with a white person.

If the mystery of why I love white women is solved, then we can turn to why I hate white women. First, I would like to clarify that I do not actually hate white women. I say “I hate white women” because it’s a little easier than saying “I feel the compulsive need to hyperbolically express my resentment and envy of the way that white women, including queer white women, are able to navigate the world without the added intergenerational and external complexities of being racialized.”

I realize that this makes me sound like a Women and Gender Studies textbook. White women can be important allies, yes, but a pessimistic part of me is disillusioned by the way that white women and even queer white women sometimes align themselves with people of colour, equating very different and often intertwined systems of marginalization. I hear you, they say. I know how you feel. I appreciate the attempt at empathy, yet I wish that white women would spend more time listening to people of colour and less time trying to convince us that their lived experience resembles ours. I don’t hate white women; I am tired of them believing that the oppression that they face exempts them from enacting racist structures and patterns.

There is nuance to be found here, as well as an uncountable number of related and interconnected paths I could go down—as there is in any conversation about race. I could discuss the illusion of safe spaces in queer community, which exclude voices of colour, or the history of using white femininity as a justification for violence against Black men. It’s easy to get overwhelmed by this.

When this vastness hits me, I return to my own lived experience and speak from a place of sincerity.

There’s something powerful in putting words to an indistinct, hazy feeling that you have carried around your whole life like an armful of smog. I used to work on silencing that little voice in my head, which still occasionally emerges as a nervous twitch of my fingers, a subtle gnawing in my stomach. Now, I argue with it.

EDITOR | JESS NASH SCIENCE@THESTRAND.CA

10 SCIENCE

When science can’t be trusted The growing replication crisis plaguing our papers ALBERT CHENG STAFF WRITER

Following the advent of empiricism and the Age of Enlightenment, the collective of human knowledge has grown exponentially. The scientific method has afforded us with the inventions of antibiotics and vaccines and revealed the secrets of the atom and the genome. At its heart, science is the investigation of truth, empowered by statistical tests and reproducible methodology.

However, at a time when more money, manpower, and manuscripts than ever before are being sunk into research, the integrity of our findings has never been more at stake.

A critical aspect of any potential scientific discovery is replicability. If something is true, then multiple individuals or labs should be able to independently verify its truth as well. Yet over a staggering 70 percent of 1,576 scientists surveyed in a 2016 Nature article reported having failed to reproduce an experiment. Psychology and medicine are two high-profile fields where replication and validity are rampantly challenged.

One Science study that attempted to replicate the results of 100 papers published in 2008 from three high-profile psychology journals was only able to successfully reproduce 39 percent of the original findings. Meanwhile, in preclinical medical studies, over 50 percent were estimated to be irreproducible. This is evidently problematic and may prove extremely costly, hindering scientific progress by not only denying resources to more rigorous studies, but also consuming time and grants dedicated to subsequent studies that attempt to build on fallacious claims.

Many fields use an alpha level (α-level) of 0.05 to assess statistical significance—that is to say, if the probability of observing the collected data under a pre-defined “null” hypothesis is less than 0.05, then it is rejected and the “alternative”

hypothesis, which is usually of greater interest, is supported. Under this framework, it would be expected that five percent of reported findings are not “true,” and thus non-replicable. Which causes may be responsible for the discrepancy between this theoretical minority and the observed almostmajority of irreplicability?

One possible factor is selection bias at the publication level. Even—and perhaps especially— the most reputable journals are likely to prefer studies that disclose novel, positive findings than ones that reveal that the null hypothesis (i.e. that nothing of interest is happening) is supported.

This leads to selective acceptance of manuscripts that have been screened for significance. In fact, there is evidence to suggest that papers that fail to be replicated are more highly cited than replicable papers, a phenomenon that may be ascribed to the juicier headlines associated with articles advertising shakier claims. Yet, if all failures of replication could be attributed to this explanation, this would not necessarily be a detriment to science. It has been argued by Jeffrey Mogil, a Canada Research Chair holder, that the nature of pushing boundaries in science leads to lower than 95 percent replicability, especially when considering the arbitrary nature of α = 0.05 as a cut-off. Discoveries that fall just below a p-value of 0.05 may appear to fail to replicate on another try by falling just above the cut-off.

Another less honest aspect of replication may be shady scientific methodology. One manifestation of this is p-hacking, a practice in which experimenters preferentially use data analysis approaches that produce more desirable p-values. This has the effect of exaggerating the strength of a proposed effect or finding connections where there aren’t any—for example,

by dropping measurements deemed invalid or failing to correct statistical tests for the effect of multiple tests. Alternatively, it may take the form of rearranging a study’s chronology, reframing confirmatory analyses as exploratory ones to strengthen the persuasive power of a paper. As careers, grants, and reputations are placed on the line, the incentive to smudge data in order to better fit one’s desired hypothesis only grows.

Several possible solutions have been suggested to combat this replication crisis. In preregistration, scientists report ahead of time a detailed plan of their study, including hypotheses, data collection and curation methods, statistical tests, etc. Thus, p-hacking is minimized by reducing the number of steps in the scientific process that may be influenced by personal bias. Changes to methodology may still be implemented, but they must be openly reported and justified alongside the preregistration report. The natural extension to this approach is registered reports, in which journals guarantee publication of results associated with a predefined, proposed research methodology and analysis to be conducted, thus also reducing selection bias.

Only time will tell whether these approaches result in more reproducible science. The number of preregistrations is increasing year after year, and increasing awareness surrounding issues of replication has led to greater education about statistics in the scientific community. As students and potential future academics, we too have a responsibility to be cognisant and avoid pitfalls, not just in science, that might compromise the integrity of the work we do.

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

SCIENCE 11

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 12 OCTOBER 2021

Benzos, barbiturates, and bioinformatics A brief look at how computation has changed the face of drug discovery

PHOTO | NATIONAL CANCER INSTITUTE JESS NASH SCIENCE EDITOR

Painkillers and anaesthetics, antibiotics and antivirals, drugs that fight afflictions from insomnia to cancer—modern pharmaceuticals have transformed human health and our quality of life, but none of these vital treatments would be available without constant advancement in the field of drug discovery. Since ancient times, humans have taken advantage of the natural world to find or produce therapeutic and healing agents. Today, drug discovery is a rigorous scientific pursuit, aided in massive part by modern technology and computation. But what exactly is the role of bioinformatics in this crucial field, and what progress do we still have to make?

Before the advent of modern science and technology, pharmaceuticals were based only on naturally occurring medicines, coming from sources like herbs and fungi. Advances in chemistry in the late nineteenth and early twentieth century introduced the possibility of further purifying and modifying these natural pharmaceuticals, as well as the creation of synthetic therapeutics. Later in the twentieth century, the concept of screening began to grow more popular, with discovery efforts focusing on identifying pharmaceutically active components in natural sources and isolating them for medicinal use.

In the modern day, however, scientific and technological advances have made it possible to screen for these active compounds on a much greater scale, and from much more diverse and extensive compound libraries. Automated, miniaturized high-throughput screening methods allow researchers to test many more compounds for biological activity faster than ever before.

Millions of candidates can be screened for specific properties in a facility within one day, with those that demonstrate promising activity referred to as “hits.” But how is this process actually conducted?

Automated high-throughput screens typically involve the use of large plates containing hundreds or thousands of tiny wells. Each well is

filled with a biological entity, whose exact identity will vary depending on the particular screen— for example, bacterial colonies, human cells, or protein solutions may be used. Each candidate compound is robotically added to a different well, and a reaction is allowed to take place. Finally, readouts for each well can be assessed either manually or automatically. In the case of bacterial cells, researchers might be looking for compounds that decrease replication; for human cells, increased cell size may be the target; or researchers may be seeking a compound that binds to a particular protein.

With the general principle outlined above, increasing knowledge in molecular biology and improving technology have allowed scientists to work on identifying and producing pharmaceuticals on a massive scale. However, high-throughput screening has not been without its obstacles, limitations, and criticisms. Screens are often expensive investments without much payoff; although thousands of compounds may be screened at a time, the vast majority will not turn out to be hits. Even compounds that are identified as hits in the initial screening stage often turn out to be unsuitable in later phases of investigation. Toxicity and bioavailability cannot be assayed by high-throughput screening, along with other complications that may arise in in vivo systems. For example, a compound may bind to a protein in an isolated well of a microtiter plate, but fail to bind to that same protein in a living cell or animal.

Bioinformatics approaches, however, can provide a partial solution to these limitations.

Though the fundamental constraints of highthroughput screening cannot be completely overcome, they can be mitigated by taking advantage of the wealth of biochemical information that scientists have accumulated over recent decades.

For instance, if we can narrow down the compounds being screened to only those most likely to be hits, we can improve the efficiency of screening systems. Artificial intelligence engines can comb through scientific papers

and data sheets by searching for keywords in chemical profiles in order to find compounds with established biological properties—essentially, conducting literature reviews much more rapidly and effectively than a human could. Or bioinformatics tools can analyze compounds and attempt to predict their biological activity based on their three-dimensional structures, whether by comparing their structures to the structures of known hits or through direct molecular analysis.

Additionally, if we can narrow down the compounds being screened to only those that are known to be safe for human consumption, we can overcome in vivo safety constraints.

Computational approaches can also aid in predicting the molecular mechanisms of a drug, its potential side effects, and drug resistance, all of which are vital components of the drug discovery pipeline. Combining all of these ideas, we can harness AI to set up high-throughput screens that are much more likely to produce hits that hold up in further tests and, eventually, in a clinical setting.

Beyond finding promising candidates to help improve the efficiency of high-throughput screening, bioinformatics can also help us identify therapeutic targets for these screens.

More and more genes have been identified as playing various roles in health and disease, and bioinformatic tools can help find additional such genes, as well as their sequences and functions.

The identification of promising targets to use is another way to raise the efficacy and success rate of high-throughput screens.

These are just a few of the invaluable ways by which bioinformatic tools can make highthroughput screening cheaper, more efficient, and more effective. The ability to rapidly analyze huge amounts of pre-existing data from a variety of sources can only grow more important as our biological knowledge continues to surge. Drug discovery has come a long way since humans started using natural medicines, but it still has a long way to go to be the best that it can—and bioinformatics will be integral at every step.

EDITOR | JANNA ABBAS ARTSANDCULTURE@THESTRAND.CA

12 ARTS AND CULTURE

Internalised racism and "double consciousness" W.E.B. Du Bois's “double consciousness” and my experience with it ILLUSTRATION KALLIOPÉ | ANVAR MCCALL

LUNA MC CONTRIBUTOR

I am Indian. My skin is brown.

These facts are indisputable. However, within these facts lie years’ worth of shame that I am just beginning to uncover. I grew up in India. Hindi is my first language, and yet I was socialized to believe that everything Indian was inherently less-than. The “foreign” was glamorized. The world beyond India was a dream you had to attain for the “good life.” I was told to study well and go abroad.

Assimilate. Assimilate. Assimilate.

And as I sit here and write, these memories come to me, violently. I am taken aback by all that I never questioned, at the internalized racism that I adopted from those around me and made my own.

The origin of my beliefs about myself and about my race present themselves to me and I take them in, with the language and the resources I have now, to ease my understanding of myself.

Double consciousness: a term coined by W.E.B. Du Bois in relation to the Black experience in America. In his book “The Souls of Black Folk,'' the term refers to “an inward twoness putatively experienced by African-Americans because of their racialized oppression and disvaluation in a white-dominated society.” Du Bois explained the phenomenon as “a sense of always looking at one’s self through the eyes of others, of measuring one’s soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity.”

As I read Du Bois, many aspects of my childhood come into perspective. I was socialized in high Delhi society and I attended a private school.

A large part of our schooling experience was focused on appearances. How you looked, how you spoke.

Where your family came from. The more Western and stylish your clothes were, the more acclaim you received. It was “uncool” to speak in Hindi. God forbid you said your favourite singer was Kailash Kher and not Maroon Five (a mistake I made once).

If you wanted to be cool, to have friends, and to be accepted, there was a certain way you had to be—a specific script you had to follow.

I recall one day, in third grade, when my teacher

called on me to read in Hindi class. I was good at reading; it was one of the few things that I could do well. And yet, as I began to read fluently, I felt a rush of anxiety rise in me. I wasn’t stumbling over my words, which meant that I was good at Hindi, which meant an obvious death for the already poor social life I had in school. I forcefully stumbled over the remaining words in the passage and sat down, my ears red with embarrassment.

I think of this incident now—one of many— and I’m overcome with pity. The British colonized India in 1858, telling us that our brown was “dirty,” that we were savages and that our sacred Indian culture was “less-than.” They told us that the Victorian prudishness would save us all, that our white saviours had finally come for us. Over time, we internalized these messages, so much so that 74 years after our independence was achieved, our minds still remain imprisoned by these colonial ideals. We are told to be more palatable. Tone down our Indianness. The West is the model, and we must become it or die trying.

Indians, in their constant attempt to separate themselves from each other and assimilate, don’t realize how borrowed and futile the idea of assimilation is. When white people ask me where I’m from, they don’t see me. They see the land of snake charmers and Slumdog Millionaire. They think of Eat, Pray, Love and dirt roads.

Sometimes, my brown friends and I talk about the most ridiculous things a white person has said to us. I tell them about how my white roommates asked me whether India had roads and cars. I tell them about how shocked my roommates were when I showed them pictures of my home. “It’s just like a normal city!” they said. I do not tell them about how insulted I was. We laugh about it and move on, hiding the fact that no matter how hard we strive, no matter where we go, no matter the prestigious universities we attend, we will always be reduced to the white vision of us.

The responsibility of education should never lie solely on the oppressor. While I’d love for Hollywood to include more accurate representations of my country, I know there’s little I can do to change what anyone else

thinks of me. Instead, I take advantage of my double consciousness. I realise that my double consciousness is a privilege. I see the way whiteness perceives me, and the way that I perceive myself and my people. And I choose. I see clearly now that my internalized racism, and my parents’ internalized racism, is really just generational trauma. It is sad that we were told that we weren’t good enough. It is sad that my grandfather, who fled for his life during the partition and then fought for India in the Indian air force, thanks God that “I am out of the Godforsaken country that is India.” It is a tragedy of the highest order.

I am Indian and I am brown. These facts are indisputable. What I chose to believe about these facts, however, is up to me. I replace the shame and the inferiority I was taught to feel with pride and power. These things are easier said than done, especially when so much internalized shame looms beneath the surface, but the path back home starts from here. From a place of self-awareness and a desire to heal. To come back home.

ILLUSTRATION | SEAVEY VAN WALSUM

DARK ACADEMIA DREAMS

ARTS AND CULTURE 13

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 12 OCTOBER 2021

Take to the streets, not the red carpet

A Piece of Vic: Vic’s got talent!

Performative celebrity activism at the 2021 Met Gala

How Vic Records strengthened my love for music

KALLIOPÉ ANVAR MCCALL DISTRIBUTION MANAGER

"Police Abolition Now!" screamed a group of #FireThemAll activists as Gigi Hadid strutted through the crowd in a white Prada dress, saddled with a dozen security guards. After concluding that the peaceful protest was bothersome for the stream of bejeweled celebrities entering the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the New York City Police Department (NYPD) officers on-site conducted a series of violent arrests. What seemed like a scene straight out of the Hunger Games was in fact the 73rd annual Met Gala, fashion's biggest night of the year.

The Met Gala is, for me, an occasion to lounge on my sofa in sweatpants and shout fashion advice at celebrities through my screen.

As much fun as this is, every year I am more and more irked by the message the event sends off.

This year, with its nationalistic theme, arrests, and air of moral superiority, I was finally able to put a finger on what outrages me most about the Met Gala.

The theme of the night was "In America: A Lexicon of Fashion." Here was a golden opportunity to critique the failings of the United States or subvert the meaning of American-ness, but most took the theme to be a who-can-bethe-most-nationalistic competition (yes, Debbie Harry, a.k.a. Blondie, turned up wearing an American flag dress). Those who did attempt to pass a deeper message missed the mark, in most cases (need I remind you of Cara Delevingne's "Peg the Patriarchy" jumpsuit?). In my mind, the only ones who truly nailed the theme were

the #FireThemAll activists, because what is more American than rich people wining and dining while protestors get arrested outside?

But what was most jarring to watch was the celebration of performative activism. The Met Gala is a multi-million dollar charity event for the Museum. By no means should art or fashion be dismissed in activism; they have been crucial and creative tools for radical change-making (i.e. what drag culture has done for queer rights). However, strutting down the red carpet in a ball gown— at an event that most paid $335,000 USD to attend—is not activism (even if you have "Tax the Rich" on the back of your dress). How can one claim to be "fighting the good fight" within an institution like the Met Gala, where one has to fraternize with figures like Bill de Blasio, the mayor of New York City who just made a multibillion dollar investment in the NYPD? The Met Gala should not be praised while it continues to celebrate blind nationalism; weaponize charity as a way to claim an elitist, moral high ground; support white supremacist figures like de Blasio; and turn a blind eye to police brutality (all during a global pandemic, lest we forget). As much as I love to gawk at the gorgeous outfits, fashion's biggest night of the year is a conservative event entrenched in white supremacy and the heteropatriarchy—a glitzy opportunity for the ruling elite to be pseudophilanthropic heroes in front of the press.

ZACH GROVES CONTRIBUTOR

When I moved to Toronto last year to attend university, I thought I’d be taking a step back from music. Little did I know that I was walking into a world of music, friendship, and creativity.

As I arrived with my parents during the first week of September, I didn’t know anyone. Over my first month at Vic, I looked for ways to get involved in the community. I spent hours on my computer, looking at clubs and trying to decide which ones I wanted to join. At first, Vic Records seemed like it was very exclusive and full of incredibly talented individuals—the latter of which is true. I was worried that I would have no place being part of a music club; I mean, I couldn’t even remember how to play any instruments (I do now).

My first Vic Records event was one of the most nerve-wracking moments of my life. During Orientation Week, Vic Records collaborated with the Orientation team to run a “Vic’s Got Talent” Open Mic Night. I wanted to perform, but I had nothing prepared, so I decided against signing up. My decision held fast until one of my friends, who was behind the scenes running the event, messaged me and forced me to perform before the end of the night. So, backed into a corner, I chose to sing an original song that I had written the previous summer and had never performed in front of anyone—let alone 150 strangers. Putting myself out there and performing that night showed me how much I needed to keep music in my life, and it also marked the beginning of my involvement with Vic Records.

Being elected as President of Vic Records has taught me a lot. Over the course of the past year, I went from being brand new to this club and university to being placed into a leadership position. Now, my fellow First-Year ILLUSTRATION | SEAVEY VAN WALSUM Representatives from last year and I have been put in charge of a club that we have never run in-person.

This is a new experience for many of us, but it’s definitely a good one. We have the opportunity to shape this club into something new, something bigger, and something better.

Our hope is to bring the community we found through Vic Records during our first year to a brand new set of faces. That is why this year, we are expanding. We will be holding more events such as monthly Open Mic Nights, Music Panels, and hopefully, many in-person events (pending pandemic restrictions).

We can’t wait to see you all at our events this year. We are super excited to be back, so come out and showcase your incredible talent. We’d be thrilled to meet you!

Make sure to follow our Instagram @ vicrecords and sign up on the general member form linked in our bio so that you don’t miss out PHOTO | VIC RECORDS

EDITOR | JANNA ABBAS ARTSANDCULTURE@THESTRAND.CA

14 ARTS AND CULTURE

The Strand reviews Salt-Water Moon In-person theatre is back, baby!

JANNA ABBAS ARTS AND CULTURE EDITOR

“I hope it doesn’t rain,” I say to my mom as I walk out the door, umbrella in hand.

I was on my way to my first in-person theatre performance at UofT since last year’s lockdown. The play in question is Canadian playwright David French’s Salt-Water Moon, put on by The St. Michael’s College Troubadours. Having been a freshman last year, I—like many others—missed out on the chance to view an inperson performance. While I knew that the experience would not be the same as it was in the pre-pandemic days, I was nevertheless excited to be experiencing what I saw as an essential part of university life.

To comply with safety measures, the performance was set to take place outside in a quaint little park, tucked between Brennan Hall and St. Basil’s Catholic Parish. The large tree in the middle of the park was used as the main part of the “stage,” covered in fairy lights and draped in colourful sheets. The tree wonderfully transported the audience to the setting of the play: Newfoundland in the 1920s. It was hard to believe the play had ever been set to be performed indoors, but the director, Emily Villani, revealed that this had been the original plan: “Our initial idea way back [at]... the end of 2020… [was for the play] to be an indoor show in a really intimate setting. But the pandemic, I guess, kind of allowed us to think outside the box and be a little bit more creative.”

The play involves three characters: Mary, Jacob, and the narrator. Mai-Yin Johnston plays Mary, a stargazing, young woman; Sina Sasanifard plays Jacob,

Mary’s former lover; and Anna-Maria Maleshev plays the comedic yet earnest narrator. The three actors create a beautiful scene, delivering their lines in a manner that made it impossible to look away. In fact, during one of Jacob’s passionate speeches, it started raining, and, in one seamless motion, everyone in the audience pulled out their umbrellas, not daring to take their eyes off the performance for even a second. The heartfelt passion of the actors combined with the magical scenery made it easy to see why the team chose this play to start off the season—but if you weren’t there to see it, Associate Director Colin Darling sums up their reasoning perfectly: “[The play] follow[s] characters that are caught

between two worlds, in a sense, [and] I feel like we've all been sort of caught in our past lives, in our new normal these days ... as well.”

I left the performance awestruck and wondering how I could possibly put into words the way it made me feel.

Everything I wanted to say felt incapable of capturing the effects of that night, so I’ll let Emily finish it off: “If there's one thing that we learned from [the pandemic] it is that ... you never know what's going to happen in life, [so] tell the people [you love] that you love them and fight for the people that you love and ... cherish the ... connection that you have with everyone, whether it be a family member or a significant other. You know, just

Toronto through the camera lens Tour some of Toronto's most iconic TV and movie locations CORINNE LANGMUIR CONTRIBUTOR

The number of activities available to those who want to see the city have dwindled due to COVID-19 restrictions in Toronto. For seeing cool sights that feel familiar, this list provides safe alternatives to exploring the city. Toronto has much to offer, and if you look close enough you might recognize some filming spots that you may have once passed.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World (2010) The Scott Pilgrim graphic novel series took the world by storm and was adapted into the actionpacked film we all know and love soon after. Scott Pilgrim vs. The World has a special place in PHOTO | TESSA WARBURTON, THE QUEEN'S JOURNAL

Torontonians’ hearts for being both filmed and set in the Six. Once viewers get past Chris Evans’s incredible eyebrows in this film, they can spot Casa Loma in the background (where they also incidentally film another movie on this list). Other locations in Scott Pilgrim vs.

The World include: St. Michael's College School, the Artscape Wychwood Barns, and Lee's Palace.

Good Will Hunting (1997) This tear-jerker was filmed here at UofT! Students living in Whitney Hall at University College can boast that Minnie Driver, Will’s girlfriend, stayed in their residence. Next, the McLennan Physical Laboratories are used for an MIT lecture hall, and the Upfront Bar & Grill on Front Street is the set where Will humiliates the stuck-up Harvard student.

Suits (2011–2019) Walk down the same streets that the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle, once graced. If you have been in the Financial District, congratulations—you have seen the set of Suits! The Pearson Specter Litt office can be found at 333 Bay Street. And whenever Michael and Rachel take a stroll in Central Park, they are really in Toronto’s Berczy Park.

X-Men (2000) The Distillery District is transformed into a WWII nightmare in the first film of the X-Men series, Casa Loma becomes Professor Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters, and you may also spot Professor Xavier and Magneto at Roy Thomson Hall.

Mean Girls (2004) You may know every iconic line from Tina Fey’s Mean Girls, but did you know that it was shot in THIS PHOTO WAS SHARED VIA THE CUP WIRE, MAINTAINED BY THE CANADIAN UNIVERSITY . PRESS Toronto? The high school where Regina George littered the halls with pages from the Burn Book is Etobicoke Collegiate Institute. In the climax of the film, Cady, despite being grounded, sneaks out to the Mathletes competition, which was held in none other than UofT’s very own Convocation Hall. Yes, Lindsay Lohan proclaims “The limit does not exist!” on UofT turf.

Kim’s Convenience (2016–2021) At the corner of Queen and Seaton sits the real-life Kim’s Convenience store. The original shop, known as “Mimi Variety,” was transformed into the titular store for the purpose of the show. Although the shop resembles the one seen on TV, Kim’s Convenience was shot on a replica set at Studio City Toronto. If you stop by 252 Queen Street East, make sure to be respectful and maybe even buy a thing or two.

STRANDED 15

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 12 OCTOBER 2021

Shower thoughts Is it just Herbal Essences, or is it a potion that reveals life's essential truths?

FABIHA SADDAT CONTRIBUTOR

PHOTO | ALEX GREEN

Have you ever been struck with a genius idea in the middle of showering? Or chanced upon a random, extremely satisfying insight? Or entered a deep train of thought about your own life? Your answer is probably “yes” for almost every shower you’ve taken, or at least for those hot, cozy, long showers. Don’t worry—you are not alone, because everyone seems to experience this. In fact, this phenomenon has recently been coined as “shower thoughts” (definitely check out the “showerthoughts” subreddit, because our brains are really out here wildin’ in the shower).

For me, it’s impossible to not have some form of internal reflection while showering; and if not internal reflection, then some weird gut feeling about the future. Last winter, I texted my friend, “Bro, I have a weird feeling that once I get out of the shower (bc I’m texting you mid-shower) our o-chem grades will be out, we are both failing.” After drying my hair, I checked my phone to see a missed call from my friend and a text saying, “WHAT IN THE WITCHCRAFT, WE FAILED!!!!”

Me predicting the failing grade was a source of much-needed comedic relief, as we were more fixated on my clairvoyance rather than the fact that we failed. I concluded that I’d probably have gotten prosecuted as part of the Salem Witch Trials if this had happened in the Middle Ages. But to avoid tooting my own horn, we are going to say that this was probably just my highfunctioning anxiety manifesting itself as

✨ insights about the future.✨

Some of my shower thoughts also include figuring out what a perfect response would have been to specific past conversations, or figuring out the answer to an exam question that I couldn’t solve during the exam itself. It’s like, why didn’t my brain do its job when it needed to?!!

Obviously, this led me to do some research on why we have these fleeting moments of creative genius during a task as menial and mundane as showering.

According to this Buffer article, one study tracked the regions of the brain that were active when rappers did freestyle, which we can all agree is a highly creative process. The part of their brain that controls executive function (dorsolateral prefrontal cortex) was relaxed, and the part that helps us make associations and understand context and emotional response (medial prefrontal cortex) was active.

However, this still didn’t answer my question about creative shower thoughts. Most research has concluded that creativity requires a positive mood, and it turns out that when we start to lather up, we really do wash away our worries as our brain releases dopamine.

Showers aren’t a mentally or physically taxing activity, and the warm water hitting you is the perfect way for your brain to recover from the deep fried state caused by our rise-and-grind lifestyles. Essentially, you need to let your mind wander so it can look inward to make connections and associations, and you cannot do that if you have an explicit task in mind.

The 3 thoughts that cycle through my head every time I see my face when the screen goes dark at the end of a Netflix episode GOLSHAN SHARBATDAR ALAEI VIDEO EDITOR

1. ¿Holy guacamole, is that my face? *faint gasp of disgust* Yo, the angle at which I watch shit on my phone is actually disgusting. And my hair is always in some sort of a weird top-bun that looks like a beehive that a bear got ahold of. I feel bad for my FBI agent who has to stare at me for four hours straight as I stresswatch shows while stuck in a perpetual state of being five lectures behind in four out of my six courses.

2. Oh fuck, I’ve been on this app for hours With each millisecond that passes, the accidental eye contact I make with myself evolves into a raging staredown of confrontation. The mile-long list of all my commitments start carouseling in my head. “OH GOD, I HAVE SO MANY DEADLINES, I NEED TO GET OFF THIS APP. AHHHH, I’M SUCH A LOZER,” I whisper to myself lovingly. It’s also dark

outside now for absolutely no reason. As if my own death glare wasn’t enough, the full moon’s big-ass white face is also staring into my soul. Turns out, its nosey ass was watching me this whole time. As it was rising in the east, it witnessed that stupid Instagram notification that kick-started my distraction spiral, and now it’s absolutely going off at me with the most degrading insults as it sets in the west. Honestly, I kinda deserved it... Alright, time to finish THAT ONE REALLY IMPORTANT THING THAT PEOPLE ARE COUNTING ON ME TO DO! 3. Nahhhh, one more won’t hurt ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) *continues watching the twentieth consecutive episode of Parks and Rec (plz, you can’t blame me—it started playing by itself )* (Spoiler alert: it always hurts. It hurts like a pinky toe smushed against the leg of an armchair. Oh, it hurts like pumpkin spice-flavoured soap suds in your eyes.

Indeed, it hurts like lemon-scented hand sanitizer in

ur papercut.)

That’s funny, you thought I’d actually start my work. aHA. It’s only 12:34 am! Like many struggling undergrads, I've reached a point in my life where I have zero ounces of self-discipline left. It seems like I love to say "SCREW YOUUU" to myself and crush my own hopes and dreams. My reflection has already flipped the bird at me, like, six times too. Sigh. I should join a bootcamp or something after uni instead of applying to professional school. Hmm, yeah—that sounds fruitful.

But for now, I’ll continue staring at a screen :) 4. (ALTERNATIVE TO ALL OF THE ABOVE) If the show was really good and the ending hit deep, I like to gaze into the kind eyes of the familiar girl in the reflection and, you know, maybe ponder about my state of being, or puzzle over all the choices I’ve made that led me to this moment. Also, should l get Disney+ so that I can finally experience Hamilton??

ILLUSTRATION GOLSHAN | SHARBATDAR ALAEI

EDITOR | VICTORIA MCINTYRE STRANDED@THESTRAND.CA

16 STRANDED

What your bug-squashing technique says about you I seriously need to start upping my pest extermination skills…

ADRIANA GORAIEB STAFF WRITER

Deep dark confession of a former scout: I do not like bugs. At all. And there was nothing less amusing than finding myself face-to-face with an entire colony (cluster? Herd? I don’t know!) of them ganged up around the ceiling light in my room just last night.

But as I grabbed my makeshift Dollarama Swiffer to commit bug-icide, it got me thinking— what is the best technique to get rid of these winged pests? Is it my mom’s slipper? That fiveyear-old bug spray in my closet? My bare hands?

Or rather, would it be better to channel my inner Snow White and talk them out of invading my space?

Below, I provide my judgments of people who use each method—and for legal purposes, this is nothing more than a joke.

1. Your mom’s slipper A safe choice. No judgement here. Gets the job done, and bonus points if you throw the slipper at the ceiling to hit a bug—that is truly an extreme sport.

2. Bug spray If you use bug spray to get rid of house bugs, you’re obsessed with rules and probably spend 80 percent of the time making sure that the species of the bug you’re attacking matches the one on the spray can’s label. Just use the nearest book or shoe like the rest of us—the bug would’ve died of boredom by the time you finished reading the specifications, anyway. Then again, maybe that’s been your killing strategy all along, you closeted pacifist. Death by boredom just doesn’t seem as thrilling of a technique as chasing the bug around the room and sporting a couple of bruises, though.

3. Your bare hands (or your feet, for bonus points) Honestly, I respect you. But I’m also terrified of you. You were the one your family called to deal

with household pests, because you have absolutely no fear. None. Bonus points if you’ve ever punched a cockroach, because, as a former scout, I’ve seen someone do it, and it is not for the faint of heart...

4. Diplomacy If you try to sweet-talk a fly out of your room, you were DEFINITELY a Model UN kid in high school and believed that you had UN speaker-level charisma whenever you talked to people. Unless you happen to be a young animal linguist princess inhabiting the home of seven dwarfs in the middle of a forest, just grab a broom and call it a day.

5. The box You’re sweet and probably leave food

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

Things you’ve lost Find them again here!

VICTORIA MCINTYRE STRANDED EDITOR

DadsRespect IUD Patience Testicle

Dignity Lover Perspective Therapist

outside your window to feed cold birds in the winter. I admire the #livelovenature efforts, but if it weren’t for your decision to kindly, gently, sweetly place a wasp in a box to release back into nature, I would not have had to spend fifteen minutes of my precious time trying to muster up the courage to kill it as it buzzed around the light in my room.

In other words, thank God fall is approaching and the wasps and flies are starting to disappear as summer’s heat starts to fade. I’ll probably need to learn to deal with spiders in December, though. I now see why everyone on Game of Thrones was so afraid of winter coming.

Hygiene Passwords Phone Zest