The Strand | Volume 61, Issue 4

the

STRAND VICTORIA UNIVERSITY’S STUDENT NEWSPAPER VOLUME 61, ISSUE 4 | 16 OCTOBER 2018

Mystical landscapes? arts and culture page 12

To be or not to be features page 8

Modern dating opinions page 6

02 NEWS

EDITOR | ROBIN DINESHKUMAR NEWS@THESTRAND.CA

Government policy of cannabis legalization What to expect from the new laws legalizing cannabis illustration

michael mejia contributor

On June 20, 2018, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau announced that cannabis will officially become legal nationwide on October 17. The Prime Minister allowed the provinces 17 weeks to prepare legislation that reflects the passing of the law.

The Ontario Government obliged, and built a policy outlining the new rules that “will keep the people of Ontario safe once cannabis is made legal,” according to their official website. The decisions in regard to cannabis policy and law-making were derived from engagement with both the public and stakeholders. As a result, the policy reflects a general interest in keeping cannabis out of the possession of the youth and keeping the streets of Ontario safe.

The minimum age for consumption and possession of cannabis in most provinces across the country is 19 years old, with the exception of Quebec and Alberta who will have a minimum age of 18. However, Quebec could see a potential increase to 21 years of age given the outcomes of the recent election.

In Ontario, a person will be allowed possession of up to 30 grams—roughly one ounce—of dried cannabis in public at any time. Individuals are also allowed to grow a maximum of four cannabis plants per residence.

According to the Government of Ontario website, cannabis will be legally available through one outlet, the online Ontario Cannabis Store. Individuals will be able to purchase up to 30 grams at a time. At the time of delivery, consumers will be asked to present a valid form of ID to verify their age. The long-term goal of the government is to pass previously introduced legislation that will provide a regulated private retail model for cannabis retail. The predicted launch of this legislation is for April 1, 2019. The law would establish the Alcohol and Gaming Commission of Ontario (AGCO) as the provincial regulator authorized to grant private cannabis selling licenses to stores.

According to the policy laid out on the Government of Ontario webpage, recreational cannabis can be consumed in a number of locations. Cannabis can be used within a person’s private residence as well as designated public locations such as sidewalks and parks. Labelled guest rooms in hotels, motels, and inns will also allow the consumption of cannabis. For owners of residential vehicles and boats with permanent sleeping accommodations and cooking facilities, cannabis is legal to consume so long as the vehicle is parked or anchored without risk of movement. Consumption for scientific research in testing facilities also falls under the legal uses of cannabis. Lastly, the policy outlines certain controlled areas such as long-term care homes, residential hospices, provincially funded supportive housing, and designated psychiatric facilities as legal locations for cannabis consumption.

The provincial policy also identifies locations where consumption of the drug is prohibited. Individuals residing in indoor common areas such as condominiums, apartment buildings, and university or college residences are banned from consuming cannabis.

The consumption of cannabis in enclosed places, whether public or work, is prohibited as well. No smoking is permitted within 20 meters of publicly owned spaces. Any clearly marked non-designated smoking areas prohibit the consumption of cannabis through smoking or vaping. There is no smoking within nine meters of outdoor areas such as restaurant patios or other public spaces. Outdoor grounds of specific Ontario government buildings and Toronto City Hall have clear anti-smoking laws. Workplaces have

| mia carnevale

also prohibited the use of cannabis during office hours. Smoking in reserved seating areas at outdoor sporting events and entertainment locations is illegal. Smoking within 20 meters of the grounds of community recreational facilities is not permitted. Lastly, cannabis consumption in outdoor sheltered areas, such as bus shelters, will be prohibited.

The policy outlined by the government is extremely clear about forbidding the use of cannabis while driving. Penalties to prevent driving under the influence include an immediate licence suspension, financial repercussions, possible vehicle impoundment, potential criminal record, and the risk of jail time. Police will be authorized to use oral fluid screening devices at roadside to determine a person’s sobriety. An article from the CBC interviewing Minister Bill Blair early in October 2018 sheds light on the training Toronto Police officers have undergone to identify those driving under the influence of cannabis. Blair says Police have received 18 months of cannabis training as preparation for its legalization. According to Blair, the federal government has allocated 161 million dollars for the training of law enforcement.

The mayoral race

Get to know your 2018 mayoral candidates for Toronto’s municipal elections jiawen chen contributor

Election day is fast approaching! To help you cast your ballot for the municipal elections on October 22, here is a summary of the top mayoral candidates: John Tory The incumbent mayor of Toronto, John Tory, is seeking a second term. Tory ran for mayor in 2003 before winning in 2014. He led the Progressive Conservative Party of Ontario from 2004 to 2009 and was an MPP representing the Dufferin-Peel-Wellington-Grey riding from 2005 to 2007. Tory has worked as a lawyer, CEO director of Rogers Media, radio talk show host, and volunteer chair of a nonprofit called CivicAction. His platform is centred around strong leadership and keeping taxes at or below the inflation rate. Tory’s plans for better transit include a new subway line linking Pape station with Queen and Osgoode stations, nine stops on the Relief Line, maintaining the King Street Pilot, adding an express line extension to Scarborough Town Centre, and moving forward with his SmartTrack plan. Other items addressed in his platform include the creation of a Community Safety Advisory body, increasing street art grants, and declaring 2020 the year of public art.

Jennifer Keesmaat Jennifer Keesmaat was Toronto’s Chief City Planner from 2012 until 2017, when she resigned. She has since been

the CEO of Creative Housing Society, a nonprofit aiming to create more affordable rental housing. She is Tory’s main challenger in this mayoral race. Keesmaat’s plans to make housing more affordable call for a luxury-housing tax on houses priced at four million dollars or more, which would fund a rent-to-own program and the building of 100,000 new affordable housing units. She proposes to transform under-utilized city-owned golf courses into public facilities and services for locals. To improve transit, Keesmaat plans to accelerate the Relief Line so that it is completed ahead of schedule while building and expanding the Jane, Waterfront, and Eglinton Light Rail Transit lines. Her community safety policies call for crime prevention programs targeting at-risk youth, as well as a ban on guns and ammunition. She also promises to reduce speed limits in residential areas, double per-capita spending on arts, and build five new cultural hubs downtown.

Saron Gebresellassi A multilingual human rights and litigation lawyer, Saron Gebresellassi has been named to Chatelaine magazine’s “Top 80 Amazing Canadian Women to Watch.” She is an avid activist and is running for mayor with a platform dubbed “Six for the 6ix,” which addresses six rights she believes all Torontonians have. These rights are to housing, transit, fair allocation of city resources, employment outside the downtown core, mental health and accessibility, and diversity in city politics and city hiring. To ensure that nobody is left behind, she promises to introduce programs targeting youth employment, cultural program-

ming, and reforms promoting employment equity. She also plans to develop a framework that would allow for better assessment of how city policies affect “development of positive mental health outcomes.” Her plans for improving transit have the ultimate goal of moving Toronto towards free public transportation.

Sarah Climenhaga Sarah Climenhaga is a stay-at-home mother who has advocated extensively for change at City Hall. She has worked for many nonprofits, including the World Wildlife Fund, Moving the Economy, Black Creek Transportation Management Association (now Smart Commute), TTC riders, and Cycle Toronto. Her platform focuses on solutions to three main issues: transit, housing, and street safety. She hopes to make transit more equitable and affordable. Her transit policy includes short-term improvements, such as increasing bus service where needed and the TTC budget, as well as long-term expansion plans that include improved transportation to Scarborough via a linked LRT system. Climenhaga’s platform also outlines plans to reduce homelessness, create affordable housing, and make roads safer. These plans include fixing the Toronto Community Housing repair backlog, reducing fees, reducing the speed limit on residential streets to 30 km/h, and banning right turns on red lights.

Voting will take place Monday October 22 from 10 am to 8 pm. More information about the candidates and their platforms can be found on their respective websites.

NEWS 03

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 16 OCTOBER 2018

“Time to talk about mental wellness at Vic.” The new Mental Wellness Commissioner’s plans for this year maria piovesana contributor

The Mental Wellness Commissioner is a new role on VUSAC this year, created to advocate for better mental wellness programming at Vic and to host events aimed at decreasing the stigma surrounding mental illness. To learn more about the position, The Strand sat down with Ali Kehl, the newly elected Mental Wellness Commissioner, to get her thoughts on the role and find out what is in store for the position this year.

What do you consider the main role of this position, and how will it benefit the students of Victoria College?

To me, the main role I see myself fulfilling is the personalization of mental health services and events at the college!

This idea was at the forefront of my platform as we cannot continue to treat people as if they fit a specific mold. In my opinion, it is only through personalizing Victoria College’s approach to mental wellness that we can really start to make an impact on our students’ lives.

This is not a goal that will be completed in full by the end of the year, and end of my term, but I believe we can begin to make headway in what will hopefully become a changed atmosphere at Victoria College.

The description of your position details that you will be running programming focused on mental wellness and that you will be hosting events to promote mental wellness. What do you have planned for this school year?

This is a great question as working on programs and events is something I’ve been happily doing quite a lot in the past week! One of my main priorities right now is assisting the Dean’s Office in their Minding Our Minds conference happening on October 29! This year the

focus is on substance abuse and its implications on and for mental health. As well, I am currently working on a collaborative event with the Equity Commission for Women’s History Month.

We will be holding a Healing Workshop on October 17 in Wymilwood Lounge that will hopefully act as a space where female-identifying students can support one another and gather resources for further healing opportunities. Finally, I’m very much looking forward to working with Vic Graduate Sabrina Bilotta on an essential oils workshop and make-andtake, which will allow students to learn about the use of essential oils in reducing stress and anxiety, and give them a chance to create their own! Beyond these three projects, there are many others in the works and I look forward to seeing new ideas come to fruition as the semester unfolds!

A big issue facing mental health is the stigma surrounding it. In your new position, how do you intend to decrease this stigma and promote awareness?

Stigma, in my opinion, stems from a lack of education. When people are uninformed, they make ignorant and hurtful comments. Therefore, I believe the first step in trying to eradicate the problem of stigma is by providing the students and faculty at our college with the resources that would help them become more educated. I would hope to have speakers, and conferences available to the student body and staff that would help them to continue to learn and continue to become more informed. I don’t believe that—even with the best programming—we will be able to beat stigma in a year, but I fully believe that we can try and that we can at least start the process.

Are there any challenges that you are

facing in your position? If so, how do you intend to deal with these challenges and move forward?

A challenge I have faced, and I foresee potentially being an issue in the future, is the confusion over the actual role of the Mental Wellness Commissioner. Some people see this position as a counsellor adjacent role, but I think it would be a disservice to the students of this college if I treated this position as such. This position, in my eyes, is meant to work with the people who are trained and qualified to give help and advice to students by sharing with them what students are looking and asking for! Beyond this, I’m sure more problems will arise as is expected with any new position, but I feel very lucky to be working with such a wonderful and accommodating team, and know that I will have the support of VUSAC if something new does come about.

Finally, are there any other things that you plan to implement this year, or is there any additional information you would like to share about this role?

What’s going on around campus this month?

Toronto Municipal Elections Outreach!

October 17 and 18, 12-2 pm Goldring Student Center Come join the VUSAC Equity Commission in fulfilling your civic duty to VOTE! If you are an 18+ Toronto resident (with a current Toronto address), you are eligible to vote in the municipal elections on October 22nd!

Our lovely commission members can check if you’re a registered voter, help you register to vote if you’ve never voted before, and tell you about the candidates and issues this election!

We will have snacks for all who stop by!

UTSU’s Pancake Breakfast Thursday October 18, 10 am Hart House Wake up and enjoy some FREE pancakes on the UTSU! The beautiful setting of Hart House Great Hall is only part of the appeal of eating some delicious, soft, and sweet pancakes to start off your epic Thursday. We will have gluten-free and vegan options but in limited quantities! Please bring one non-perishable food item for UTSU Food Bank.

Other things I am excited about include creating a comprehensive and easily accessible resource booklet which will hopefully engage our students with the resources available to them at Vic, UofT, and Toronto-wide! As well, I am hoping to create a grief workshop which would be aimed at helping students with their own grieving process as well as opening up a discussion on how to effectively help others with their grief. Beyond this, I am most excited about opening up a dialogue with the community to see what they are looking and hoping for from this position!

VISAxCaffiends Latte Workshop Thursday October 18, 6:30 pm Caffiends

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

VUSAC Equity and Academic Commissions are co-hosting a “Racialized Experiences in Academia” panel on Friday, October 19th!

Join us in the Cat’s Eye at the Goldring Student Centre from 5:30-7:30 for a nuanced discussion of what it is like to be a racialized person in the often white world of academia.

The panel will be moderated by Georgia Lin, the VUSAC Equity Commissioner.

Open to ALL Victoria students giving priority to first year international students and students new to Toronto. Come create your own latte art and meet lovely Vic students at the cozy Caffiends!

Racialized Experiences in Academia Panel Friday October 19, 5:30 pm The Cat’s Eye Student Pub & Lounge

Panelists: Yvette Ali, Victoria College Registrar; Christina Alcena, Victoria College Campus Life Coordinator; Elo Igor, Working For Change Conference Coordinator & UofT Master’s of Social Work Candidate (Factor Inwentash Faculty of Social Work).

Indoor Recess Wednesday October 24, 4 pm The Cat’s Eye Student Pub & Lounge Join your Vic Commuter Dons as we screen TV shows like Disney’s Recess and That’s So Raven, play classic board games like Guess Who and video games like Mario Kart 64, and eat nostalgic snacks like Dunkaroos, Lunchables, Fruit Roll Ups, Cheese Strings, and generally reminisce about a simpler and more recess-filled time: the 2000s! photo

| courtesy of vusac

04 EDITORIAL

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF | AINSLEY DOELL AND SABRINA PAPAS EDITOR@THESTRAND.CA

Talking about sexual assault

the

Evaluating our community

strand V O L U M E

editors-in-chief

6 1

ainsley doell sabrina papas

editor@thestrand.ca business manager

business@thestrand.ca

mishail adeel

news

news@thestrand.ca

robin dinesh

opinions

opinions@thestrand.ca

georgia lin

features

features@thestrand.ca

rebecca gao

science

science@thestrand.ca

tanuj ashwin kumar

arts and culture

artsandculture@thestrand.ca harrison wade stranded

stranded@thestrand.ca

leo morgenstern

copy editing

copy@thestrand.ca

tamara frooman

design

design@thestrand.ca

jay bawar illustration

photo

photo@thestrand.ca

| yilin zhu

hana nikcevic

art

art@thestrand.ca

mia carnevale

web

web@thestrand.ca

eric mcgarry

video

annika hocieniec sonya roma

video@thestrand.ca podcast

Content warning: sexual assault, rape

strandcast@thestrand.ca

samantha greco jasmine ng

social media

nate crocker

editorial assistants

miranda carroll sandy forsyth noah kelly anoushka lad amelia martinez-white abbie moser contributors

carleigh campbell, jiawen chen, tian ren chu, alyssa dibattista, kathy du, sumeeta farrukh, mena fouda,

arin klein, michael mejia, rehana mushtaq, max

nisbeth, maria piovesana, emma paidra, molly simpson copy editors alyssa dibattista, sandy forsyth, miranda carroll design team jay bawar, noah kelly, sabrina papas illustrations

We’ve been reading a lot about sexual assault in the news.

These topics can be extremely triggering; this does not mean that we should avoid these topics, but that it is important to be cognizant of the environments and ways in which we discuss assault.

On the heels of the Kavanaugh case, it came to light that a member of our own community had been on trial for the sexual assault of a fellow UofT student. While the general response was one of shock and horror, a number of people came forward to say that they had known, or that Sam Marello had made them feel personally uncomfortable or unsafe in the past. Following these revelations, we think it is important that we all take the time to reflect on our own experiences and the uncomfortable situations that we may have witnessed or ignored. Too often we don’t call people out for behaviour we can tell makes others uncomfortable, because we don’t want to get involved or be the one to accuse someone of assault. We need to hold the people that we know accountable for their actions.

mia carnevale, iris deng, tanuj ashwin kumar photos michael beckwith, scott gorman, vusac cover illustration maia grecco

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.

The Strand is a proud member of the Canadian University Press (CUP).

Our offices are located at 150 Charles St. W., Toronto, ON, M5S 1K9. Please direct enquiries by email to editor@thestrand.ca. Submissions are welcome and may be edited for taste, brevity, and legality.

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We are afraid to attribute the words “rapist” or “abuser” to people we know personally. But the language we choose to use when discussing sexual assault can be damaging. Recently, a friend of mine was talking to me about a mutual acquaintance. She described him as being “weird,” and when I asked why, she said it was because he had sex with a woman she knows “without her consent.” The phrasing stuck with me because of the effect it had on my initial reaction. By avoiding the use of “rape” or “sexual assault,” the severity of the situation was entirely diminished. It’s just sex without consent.

Except, sex without consent is rape. This reductive language perpetuates the fear to call out abusers. The mutual acquaintance my friend and I were talking about is a rapist and this shouldn’t be dismissed as “weird,” as if it’s a character flaw. We may want to believe that the people we know aren’t capable of the violent acts we read about in the news, but they are.

—Sabrina Papas, Editor-in-Chief When people say things like “I didn’t mean to sexually assault anyone,” or “I didn’t realize I was coercing you,” or “I didn’t know you wouldn’t have consented—it was just a drunk, affectionate kiss between friends and anyway I’m not into girls,” that doesn’t absolve you from fault. The whole point is that we’re trying to change these normalized behaviours, and that means people need to step up and take responsibility and ac-

knowledge their complicity. An explanation is not a justification. We already know WHY it happened. The point is we’re trying to stop it from happening again. Your actions have repercussions, whether or not you intend them to.

—Tamara Frooman, Senior Copyeditor The facts of this story are unclear. I was a first year student at a party. A girl I had hooked up with previously was following me around in hopes of another, even though I had expressed that I was not interested and tired. I had plans to stay over at the hosts’ home in their spare room and asked them to help me go to bed. Two friends were kind enough to guide me; However, the girl also tagged along. I asked multiple times for her to leave but she joined me in the bed. I rolled away, asking my friends to get her out and proceeded to fall asleep even though her hands were on me. She claims the following did not happen, but three others say she proceeded to grab my crotch and butt multiple times while I was already asleep and kept pushing them away when they tried to get her to go.

The next morning, I woke up with her next to me. I was uncomfortable but unaware of what happened. My friends told me later what they witnessed. I felt betrayed by the girl, not protected by my friends and physically gross. I am a man and this story is one of two times I was touched non-consensually.

I have not done or said anything about either, but I should have.

—Anonymous One of the most grueling consequences of sexual assault is the denial that follows the offense. There tends to be a lingering sense of disbelief that the assault had even occurred. It can be difficult to admit that you are the victim of an assault. When you believe yourself to be an intelligent, self-possessed, and confident person, there is a cognitive disconnect between the “you” that you wish to present to the world and the “you” that found yourself in a powerless position. When you have spent your life building your character, any assault—no matter how great or small—shakes its foundations. Most people, especially young women, are warned about sexual harassment or assault, but often in a way that puts the onus on themselves to prevent it. As a result, feelings of shame and guilt are rerouted to tell them that the incident was just a bad kiss, an unpleasant date, or a misinterpreted cue, because it seems better than admitting that someone took advantage of you.

—Jasmine Ng, Podcast Editor

OPINIONS 05

EDITOR | GEORGIA LIN OPINIONS@THESTRAND.CA

What's the best or worst class you've taken at UofT? Four students reflect on their experiences My worst class at the University of Toronto was a breadth course I took in first year. It was an Introductory Geology course, and at first, I was excited. Little did I know, the rocks we were learning about were the rocks making up the gateway to a new misery. The course started with misinformation when the professor incorrectly stated that covalent bonds between atoms are stronger than ionic bonds. As anyone who has ever glanced at a chemistry textbook will know, this is false. I had hoped it was just a slip of the tongue, but no—this falsehood was also stated on the presentation slide and included on the midterm. The torture continued past the first lecture. The professor spoke very slowly, often pausing for ten seconds or more between phrases, in a sleepy, high-pitched voice. This was exceedingly unideal for an evening class. At the end of the semester, each student had to create a poster about one of four geological topics. In the lengthy 27-page instructional booklet for the poster, we were told to include a thousand words of text about our topic, but to make sure not to make it “too wordy”! All 500 of us spent our last class standing around in the Bahen Centre for four hours while waiting for one of five TAs to come and give us their preliminary thoughts—mostly that we should have used more pictures. All in all, a 2/10 experience.

—Valentine, Second-Year Student There are more than a few candidates for the best class I’ve taken at UofT. A great class should do a couple of things: it changes the way you look at a certain topic that interests you, and it crystallizes your ideas about a subject into something tangible. The knowledge you gain from the course should allow you to further your educational trajectory in any direction you choose. I have taken several such transformative courses. ENG341 (PostModern Drama) with Professor Matthew Sergi gave me a greater appreciation of artists and the important role that English students play in our world. CSB430 (Neurogenesis) is a biology seminar that offers a fascinating look into a mercurial field, and Professor Vince Tropepe’s course content is always relevant. However, the one course that has stuck with me the most is EEB266—Invertebrate Diversity, now taught by Professor Sebastian Kvist (previously taught by Professor David Zamparo). A survey course that rewards scientific curiosity like no other, it offers you a look into 19 phyla of life (at last count), some more alien than you can imagine, often presented with live examples. It’s a rigorous course, but the material is immensely captivating. EEB266 throws you weird, wonderful, and scientifically-relevant facts and teaches you more during a single day than you might get in a semester of taking four other courses. Although it may seem morbid, I will never forget the day that Professor Zamparo brought in and dissected a huge starfish. In my mind, I place it alongside the wonder-like occasions when I discovered a snail in my grandparents’ garden, and when I first saw neurons under a microscope: foundational

moments in my love of science. If there is ever a course that will reawaken your childhood sense of discovery, it will be Invertebrate Diversity.

—Arjun, Fifth-Year Student What’s worse than needing to buy an iClicker and textbook for a class in Convocation Hall, one that you’re only using for a breadth requirement and that you may have to CR/ NCR? Nothing is worse. For AST201, I bought a used and faulty iClicker for 10 dollars, I did not end up buying the overpriced textbook, and I did in fact end up CR/NCRing the class. I’ll be honest, I had no clue what was going on in this class even though it’s supposed to be an easy GPA booster. I thought I was doing pretty well in the first two weeks, but then everything quickly fell apart. The forced attendance twice a week, the painstaking tutorials, the online quizzes that were based on the textbook I didn’t buy, and the strange mix of individuals in the class made me regret doing this to myself.

The term project that I submitted was a two-minute podcast on “The Discourse of the Supernovas,” and the only thing that I vaguely remember including is the twin theory and multiple references to Interstellar (2014). I even went to a Bon Jovi concert the night before the exam (and had the best time) and I probably scored a nine percent overall. I did, however, manage to pass the class and get my math credit over with. My advice is to just do AST101 or literally anything else.

—Nickolas, Fourth-Year Student The best class I’ve taken at UofT is probably CRI364: Indigenous Peoples & Criminal Justice with Professor Kerry Taylor, who is my favourite professor in the Criminology department. The 60- or 70-person class was held in OISE, and she had us sit in a giant circle in our rolling chairs as we got to know each other during the first class. She fostered an intimate environment for the large class size. We talked through some concepts like colonialism and what we think the law is, and without giving us specific answers, Professor Taylor then announced that the last part of our class was going to be a mini fieldtrip. We proceeded to Philosopher’s Walk and arrived at the amphitheater area with stone seating, where Professor Taylor read us the opening chapter of John Borrow’s book “Recovering Canada.” He talks about the time when his office was in the nearby UofT Faculty of Law building, about Philosopher’s Walk, and about how the walkway used to be a river (it’s currently buried underneath the pathway). The chapter talked about the way the land has been and continues to be important, and listening to Professor Taylor read this while we were sitting on the land was an incredible way to start off the semester. It felt really good to be in a classroom where the professor was so uniquely compassionate.

—Jayde, Fourth-Year Student

illustration

| melissa avalos

06 OPINIONS

EDITOR | GEORGIA LIN OPINIONS@THESTRAND.CA

Feelings lost in the Cloud Grappling with the pitfalls of modern dating culture carleigh campbell contributor

These days, I don’t really know how to fall in love successfully. It would be nice if I looked off into a field at sunrise and saw my true love walking toward me in high-waisted breeches to tell me I have bewitched them, body and soul, à la Pride & Prejudice (the 2005 version, obviously). Instead, the only thing I look at is the little green dot in the corner of my Facebook window, trying to comprehend how a Facebook message could ever convey the weight of my emotions.

I’m not the first to criticize the way we date in contemporary culture, but living in these romantically stilted times is culminating in a point of frustration that might make me swear off dating for the rest of my life. I’m guilty of romantic over-indulgence—you can find me catching an episode of The Bachelor here and there, and I watch a rom-com alone in my bed at least once a week. I’ve been on two (mediocre) Tinder dates and another that ended before it even started with an unsolicited dick pic. But I, along with most of my friends, just can’t seem to make it click. So, what’s the missing link?

They say communication is the key to any relationship, but I just can’t seem to communicate.

I’m not actively seeking a relationship wherever I go, but I’ll just say that I fall in love with about six people a day and there’s definitely someone with whom I want to spend my Sunday afternoons baking and dancing ’round the kitchen to Neil Young.

I’m sure many people can relate when I say that

these feelings are overwhelming—that I look at this person and inside my head there is just one long scream, and then I’m thinking I wanna date you I wanna date you I wanna date you. But I don’t actually want to date, because dating sucks.

So, I’ve settled on the conclusion that social media is the plight of developing a successful relationship (and now I’m starting to sound like my mother). It distances people from each other and detaches emotion from every statement. We, as young adults so full of fear and feeling, can share secrets and emotions over a text or a Snapchat that don’t need to be acknowledged in person because these things are impermanent. It allows us to be vulnerable without exposing the emotion that comes with sharing the true vulnerability embedded within our words or photographs. It allows us more room to ignore each other. We can leave text messages unanswered for days, even if the text we sent or received before was laden with heavy emotions. But we’re also forced to rely on it to get anywhere. My friends chastise me for not answering Snapchat messages—“You’re not going to get anywhere with [insert the name of whomever I happen to be in love with at the time] if you don’t answer, Carleigh.” The last thing I want to do is send someone a picture of myself on the fly. But then I’m told I can’t send a picture of what’s in front of me because that shows I’m insecure. I can’t even begin to learn how to navigate that kind of digital relationship, with its endless caveats and encoded communication norms.

Then there’s the whole idea of relationships

themselves. Putting aside the fact that we can’t even seem to get into them, when or if we do, romance is beyond sensationalized and capitalized. The realities of relationships are never as simple as the videos on Instagram of a guy rolling up in his car to pick his girlfriend up after work, with a bouquet of flowers and her favourite takeout food in hand. We have to ask ourselves: what possesses us to film and document performative moments like this for the world to see? Why can’t we just do nice things for the people we love without social recognition? Relationships involve individualism, evolving alongside someone, watching them grow, and maybe helping them to do so. Modern relationships have been diminished into their ideals. We have begun to disregard what it really takes to commit to someone and the work and choices involved in these decisions. We are lost in the ideas of proving our love to the world, because let’s be honest, it might be easier than proving our love to each other.

I don’t know if I’ll find any resolution in this, because despite all these worries, I’m still a hopeless romantic. I still think love is all we’ve really got in the end, though a romantic relationship isn’t necessary for those who don’t want one. But for those who feel romantically, why not act on it? Getting through the day can be hard, and knowing you’ve got someone who makes your heart beat a little faster when you see them is a simple pleasure in life. Will I ever achieve this without having to send them a Snapchat? Let us hope. For now, I’ll pine and hope Mr. Darcy chases me down in the rain.

One fish in a big pond Finding community at Vic and UofT emma paidra contributor

Transition periods are naturally difficult. As first-years who entered Victoria College and the University of Toronto just one month ago, we have only started to adjust to and become more comfortable in our new community.

Every incoming UofT student has their own unique experiences, and it is not always easy. I am relieved that Vic and UofT are starting to feel more and more like home for me, but it certainly did not start out that way. Initially, the size of the university was truly daunting. How was I expected to carve a community out of such an enormous student population? How was anyone ever going to know who I was, let alone care about me? At the beginning of September, I was overwhelmed with the sheer size of the school. I even urged my residence don to explain how creating friendships was even possible in a university where, due to the number of students, it can be difficult to run into the same people often enough to forge friendships.

I doubted the mere notion of being able to form bonds with other students. However, over the last month, I have learned three valuable lessons that have slowly helped me find my place here.

First, while I did not take this advice seriously when it was being attached to emails from my high school guidance counsellor promoting “10 Easy Steps to Succeed in University,” students really do have to put themselves out there. In an institution this large, a person has to actively seek out friendships and communities and work hard at maintaining them. This realization was a tough reality to practice, but it has challenged me to be intentional about the ways in which I interact with those around me. Never before in my life have I made such an effort to connect with people or participate in community-based events.

Next, I have learned that in order to create a community here, one has to trust oneself. Since no one is going to

magically provide friendship or community on the spot, I have had to learn to trust my capabilities in forming bonds with those around me. This requires a certain degree of self-reliance that is not always so easy to summon.

Lastly, it’s important to go to every activity that may be of interest to you. Many Vic-based organizations, like VUSAC or the Commuter Dons, run series of semesterlong events that are great ways to make this daunting

school seem just a little bit smaller and more manageable.

As someone who is new to Ontario as well as to UofT, I have found the past month deeply challenging. However, I am proud to say that the kindness and friendliness with which people treat each other at Vic never fails to impress me. It is these positive interactions that keep me certain that my feeling of belonging and community here will only grow.

illustration

| mia carnevale

SCIENCE 07

EDITOR | TANUJ ASHWIN KUMAR SCIENCE@THESTRAND.CA

Who needs an appendix anyway? tian ren chu contributor

For centuries, the human appendix was considered a vestigial organ—one that had served a function in the past but is no longer necessary. Scientists were unable to identify the physiological function of this 9 cm tube connected to the cecum (a pouch located at the junction of the small and large intestines).

Therefore, it was hypothesized that the appendix originated from a portion of the cecum shrinking, which gradually occurred as our distant ancestors moved from a mainly plant-based diet. This theory emerged from anatomical observations of the cecum found in herbivorous mammals: they are significantly longer than those of carnivores or omnivores like ourselves, since this pouch mainly functions as a storage space for further digestion of cellulose (long fibres found in plants).

In other words, scientists thought that evolution simply hadn’t caught up yet with the changes in our diet, and doctors have accordingly removed this otherwise troublesome structure. Indeed, because of the appendix’s long and narrow shape, bacteria inside the large intestine can become trapped inside this blind-ended tube and cause infection, resulting in a condition known as appendicitis. Appendicitis causes swelling in the inner walls of the appendix, which leads to the accumulation of pus. If left untreated, the inflamed appendix may eventually burst and spill its infectious content into the abdominal cavity, which can be fatal. Thus, appendicitis requires immediate medical attention and is usually treated by surgically removing the appendix. The fact that patients who undergo appendix removal are perfectly able to survive without it reinforces the belief that this organ is indeed a vestigial one.

However, in the course of the last decade, studies done in several American universities have suggested that the appendix actually plays an important role in maintaining a healthy microbiome in our gut. This microbiome consists of the millions of bacterial cells that populate the inside of our intestines and bowels, helping to digest the food and nutrients going through the digestive tube. The appendix has been found to house multiple strains of beneficial microbes, providing a “safe-house” for these bacteria to multiply. So, following a bout of diarrheal illness, bacteria stored in this tube would be able repopulate the colon. Even in healthy individuals, protecting and nourishing colonies of good bacteria in the gut is essential for proper digestive functions, and also for keeping colonies of potentially harmful bacteria at bay by limiting their share of resources.

The appendix has another interesting function: if a patient ever needed to undergo surgical removal of the urinary bladder, a portion of the lower colon could then be surgically remodelled into a replacement bladder. In this case, the appendix may be used as a new sphincter muscle that helps the patient retain urine. Similarly, this narrow pouch could also be fashioned into a replacement ureter that connects the bladder to the kidneys, if necessary.

Considering the recently uncovered functions of this tiny organ (which perhaps still holds surprises for researchers), it seems that evolution was wise to preserve the human appendix after all!

illustration

| tanuj ashwin kumar

If you would like to write a piece on a body part, send your pitches to science@ thestrand.ca

Solving a quantum conundrum Urmila Mahadev's eight year long quest to solve the quantum verification problem, as a grad student tanju kumar science editor

Let's say you ask a quantum computer to do something for you, like you would a normal computer. How can you know if it's done anything at all, let alone the task you asked it to do? In fact, how can you check if a quantum computer's quantum calculations are actually correct?

This is the “quantum verification problem.” Consider a computer that doesn’t use fancy quantum bits to calculate something: we call this a “classical computer” with its 1s and 0s that can’t simultaneously be both 1 and 0. If you ask a classical computer to do some computation for you, but you don’t actually trust it, you can—in theory—trace its computation history sequentially to “verify” whether the steps are correct. You’ll see each and every 1 and 0 with no assumptions. However, this doesn’t really work for quantum computers. Not only would writing down every step of this “computation history” for a quantum computer require a great deal more space (exponentially more, in general), but you hit another block when it comes to actually checking a quantum state.

Quantum states are often superpositions of “classical states” (so here, superpositions of the classical 1s and 0s would be an example of a quantum superpositional state, and one example of why researchers think quantum computers would be much faster for certain problems). But when quantum states are actually observed, they

“collapse” into one of their component classical states, like taking a snapshot in time.

How difficult! With all these challenges, how can we actually know whether or not a quantum computer is lying to us?

Starting from her second year of grad school, Urmila Mahadev began to delve into this predicament. It took a lot of trial and error, as is usually the case in trying to tackle these difficult problems with all sorts of different approaches. Six years later, leveraging developments in cryptography, Mahadev was able to develop an effective protocol to conduct a sufficient verification of quantum computation, proving that it was indeed possible. Her paper, titled “Classical Verification of Quantum Computations” won both “Best Paper” and “Best Student Paper” at the Symposium on Foundations of Computer Science, which are incredible distinctions for a grad student researcher.

Mahadev’s ground-shaking result follows in the growing new academic field of quantum cryptography, combining quantum computing, theoretical computer science, quantum mechanics, and cryptography. The growth of computing technology alongside further research developments in quantum mechanics hold many tantalizing possibilities for how to build secure systems using the unique informationrelated properties of the world at the quantum level, and Mahadev’s massive hunt to move the field monumentally forward will serve as both a future cornerstone and a fantastic example of the ingenuity and diligence of grad student researchers.

08 FEATURES

Navigating my cultural identity

To be

EDITOR | REBECCA GAO FEATURES@THESTRAND.CA

or no t

anna maria sordjan contributor

Growing up is hard. Growing up when you constantly feel like you’re in the middle of an identity crisis makes things much more complicated. My parents were both born in a small Serbian village, Vladimirovac, in what was then known as the Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia. However, both of them are ethnically Romanian. This is where history gets a little murky.

Vladimirovac lies in Vojvodina, a northern province in Serbia. Throughout history, it has been under Hungarian, Ottoman, Habsburg, and Communist rule. Following the end of World War I in 1918, the province was divided between Romania and what was then known as the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes. At this point a significant part of the Romanian population was displaced and became citizens of the Kingdom, which is why my ethnically Romanian family are Serbian citizens. My parents immigrated to Canada as a result of the Yugoslav Wars in 1996. A year later, I was born in Hamilton, and I spent my childhood in Kitchener.

What does this historical ethnic displacement have to do with my identity crisis? My parents raised me with a keen awareness of my cultural roots and heritage. Romanian is my first language. We visited home every summer, and I partook in cultural traditions such as folk dancing up until middle school. My parents’ goal in this was clearly to preserve our cultural heritage, which they saw as even more vital given their displacement from their homeland and assimilation into a foreign country.

Assimilation was not easy for them. Having immigrated to Canada at such a young age, they were both still in the turbulent times of their 20s as they navigated a whole new world away from their family and everything they had ever known.

As a child, I resented their inability to “properly” assimilate into the everyday culture of Canadian life. I remember feeling like an outcast as my classmates would constantly look in my lunch bag, dissecting my “otherly” food as if it were a dead frog sprawled on a surgical tray. My classmates couldn’t understand why my family didn’t go camping up north, or why we didn’t own a cottage. At ten years old, I didn’t know how to tell them that neither my mom nor dad knew how to pitch a tent, or quite frankly that they didn’t have the money for a “cabin” (what kind of cabin has five bedrooms, a pool, and a jacuzzi?) in Muskoka. While all my friends had lives filled with after-school activities, sports, and clubs, I was babysitting my younger brother. Of course, now the ripe age of 21, I realize how frivolous my feelings were; however, as a kid, it seemed that having a cottage was a prerequisite for entry into Canadian society.

My parents made one brave attempt to participate in something typical of Canadian culture: camping. My family and my best friend’s family (it is important to note that they too are immigrants from Bosnia, and thus had few camping skills under their belts), packed up our coolers, tents, and sleeping bags, and headed to Grand Bend. We spent a lovely day at the beach and when the sun started to set, my friend and I couldn’t contain our excitement about actually spend-

to b e

ing a night outdoors in a tent (we were easily amused by the little things in life). Unbeknownst to our eager little selves, our parents had assumed that it was not only okay, but legal, to just pitch a tent up at the beach and call it a night there.

In a split second our typical pine-tree, s’mores dreams of Canadiana were gone. Nonetheless, we chose to stay optimistic, assuming that we would still be sleeping under the stars, and that the sand would make the sleeping bags more comfortable. And so, we pitched our little purple Hannah Montana tent (special shout-out to Walmart) and began preparing for our night.

Unlike regular families who go “camping” and toast s’mores over a fire, our families decided it was appropriate to bring a traditional kettle called a djezva and to start making traditional Turkish coffee, using the fire as a makeshift oven.

It is at this moment that our camping trip turned into something else entirely. As our parents were making their coffee, a Beach Patrol Officer arrived. I’m not quite sure they teach you how to handle “Balkan immigrants brewing homemade coffee over a fire at the beach” in any type of training.

After a polite explanation that, no, one cannot just pitch up a tent on a public beach and spend the night, our families decided to try and look for a camping ground that still had room (of course now they think of going to an actual place reserved for this type of thing). After checking two or three places, we were out of luck. Instead of calling it a night and heading home, our parents decided to order a pizza and spend the night in the next most rational and logical place besides a camping ground, Tim Hortons. This was my family’s first, and last, attempt at camping.

Because I felt like an outsider among my Canadian classmates and friends, I gravitated toward hanging out with the other Romanian kids, where I thought I would feel more welcome. I would soon come to realize that this was not the case, as I was deemed “not Romanian enough” due to my different accent. I remember that, one day, a Romanian classmate asked me what the word for woman was. “Muiera,” I said, only to be ridiculed. “No, it’s femeie,” he said with an arrogant smirk. I remember coming home crying to my parents and asking them why I spoke differently than the other Romanian kids. They explained that we simply spoke a different dialect. I didn’t understand how speaking a different dialect brought my authenticity and identity into question, and I still ransack my brain trying to answer this question today. I wish I could look back at instances like these, where I was essentially “quizzed” on my ethnicity, and say that these were just instances that represented the immaturity of youth; however, that is not the case. Even today, people my age, as well as older adults, make derogatory comments about my dialect—their implication always being that I am somehow less of a Romanian because I don’t have the same accent as those from the capital city, Bucharest. It was hard enough not fitting into Canadian society, but the knife dug a little deeper when those of the same cultural background and language outcast me as well.

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 16 OCTOBER 2018

FEATURES 09

I’ve always felt like three versions of myself existed: the Romanian, the Serbian, and the Canadian.

This occurred within the Serbian community, too. Here, I faced a language barrier, and I didn’t celebrate the same holidays. I celebrated Christmas on December 25, whereas Serbians celebrate it on January 7. They also celebrate a holiday called a “slava,” which is a day celebrating the Saints. Moreover, the fact that my last name didn’t end in -ić—something characteristic of a Serbian background—set me apart further. “But are you Romanian, or are you Serbian?” are the words that still echo in my ears. My question is: why can’t I be both?

Being caught in the crossfire of three cultures is tiring. Constantly having to explain my identity and heritage, and that a person can ac-

tually take part in three different cultures, is even more gruelling. I’ve always felt like three versions of myself existed: the Romanian, the Serbian, and the Canadian. At 21, I am still unable to reconcile the three.

I’ve always had great difficulty reflecting on who I am, or rather, who I think I ought to be. It’s strange to think that something so personal like my own identity has been forged by those around me, telling me who they think I am, or who I should be.

By no means have I figured myself out. What I have learned is that I am allowed to be Romanian, Serbian, and Canadian, at once. I am proud of all three, and each represents a part of who I am.

illustration

| mia carnevale

10 ARTS AND CULTURE

EDITOR | HARRISON WADE ARTSANDCULTURE@THESTRAND.CA

A look back to something foregone Recoving the pain and passion of the encounter with an image rehana mushtaq contributor

The image of Christ on the cross is horrific: imagine being beaten, broken, and then at last punctured by nails through palms, past tendons, to wood, holding, heaving pressure down to the ground, extending the pain, until everything goes blank. Embedded in this image of pain, humiliation, dissent, and death is the worship of something ineffable. Upon his head is the crown of thorns meant to mock his claim to authority, and yet, in the eyes of many, the crown presents an image that claims the holiness of the humble and meek. I’ve encountered this image so many times throughout my life. I’ve passed by it, acclimatized to its existence, in every classroom and hall in my high school, at the masses I was required to attend at church, and on the walls of the homes and shops of my cousins and friends.

I can’t begin to count how many times I’ve seen it—and not once did I pause or shed a tear. I never allowed myself to be astounded by how graphic the sign of worship was, so abundant that it seemed careless; displayed as if it held no meaning. I equated its poignancy to a stop sign: when encountered, stop. And then go. Seen, but just as soon forgotten.

As I moved on from my Catholic education, religion lost any of its hold over me. Life took over, and I was bombarded by a trying first year of university and then a year off from school spent working 40 hours a week. I was miserable about the downward path my life had taken. On a day off from work, I trekked with my friend Julia down from Oakville to Toronto. It was a joyful day, not one I initially thought would be marked with awe. We roamed, stepping past artists scrawling in the city centre where stairs entwined and rose, and we entered a building with Christian iconography. Julia quickly moved through the room while I looked up.

Looming over me was a hefty bronze statue of the Passion of Christ. I can’t tell you why it was this moment of all moments, but I was shaken.

Something in me was pulled out of itself, and inside I felt like a piece had at last been put in the right place. I looked up to his eyes and saw a beauty I never knew could exist in anything. It wasn’t that this statue itself was spectacular, it was something in the hands that had made it; I could see something beautiful sewn together by heartbreak and love. I thought back to all my scripture classes and remembered the revelation, a sacrifice for all those who are and were broken, to be healed by forgiveness. How painful that must be. All I could think of was the sacrifice of body and soul, given freely for all— not the science or logic of Jesus the God and Son. It isn’t a stretch to say that our encounters with our everyday world have become habitual.

We see things for their functions: a streetcar as a mode of transportation to work or school, water as a solvent necessary for hydration and life.

These things that we encounter every day are so

apparent that we encounter them without new thoughts and remain satisfied. Often, art seems to work against this mode of habit making—it defamiliarizes the presence of these objects and the world in which we live by touching upon the platitude of the ineffable. What we see is not as simple as a singular body or function.

Although Christianity is seemingly overrepresented in images and cultural currents, the image of Christ on the cross is an image I feel has lost its poignancy. We fixate on the institutionalized elements of the Church, the images and practices that are simply seen as patterns. This eats away at the crux of what the religion embodies. I see this loss as representative

of how we view and commodify art in our current cultural landscape. We are bombarded with images and words that are reduced to memes and replaced by the new, over and over, until these encounters are lost in a vast and open space. We are more interested in structures and details, because they make sense, than in the feeling of an encounter. That feeling is a visceral pull entangling our heart and soul into something deeper and beyond words. The image of Christ is filled with passion and hurt. It is brilliant not because it marks faith or is about the infinitude of the holy. What is remarkable about this image is that it explores the pain and passion we can see and feel in ourselves.

photo

| rehana mushtaq

ARTS AND CULTURE 11

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 16 OCTOBER 2018

Armed with will and determination Reflections on the first anniversary of Gord molly simpson contributor

When I found out Gord Downie had passed away last October, I put on his first solo album, Coke Machine Glow, and was surprised that an album I hadn’t heard in at least five years was still entirely recognizable. I was four when the album came out and my parents, though worried what Downie’s solo album might mean for The Tragically Hip, listened to it on repeat for two years straight. It made a lot of sense to me that, 16 years later, every song was still a little familiar.

Like a lot of Canadians, I grew up with The Tragically Hip. My parents taught me the words to “Grace, Too” long before I could fathom that the song was wildly inappropriate for a threeyear-old to be hearing (it is very dark, very much about prostitution, and very much still my favourite Hip song). My mom and dad were superfans for a while, seeing the band live countless times, even meeting Downie once or twice.

On one (not actually memorable) occasion, I was there as a baby.

But also, like a lot of Canadians, I forgot about The Hip for a while. I got older and developed tastes separate from those of my parents.

The post–Phantom Power years were not played on repeat nearly as much. No one in my house felt that these albums had the same magic, and so we instead stuck to old hits. Once, The Tragically Hip were in town and I didn’t even think to go; now I only wish I had had the opportunity to see them live.

It was only once I learned that their new music would be limited that I moved into their later

work and discovered new favourites. Soon, even Downie’s last albums, Secret Path and Introduce Yerself, gained a different, but equally impactful meaning. Even they bring me to tears with each listen.

However, my story isn’t unique. Most Canadians I know, regardless of age or hometown, have a similar story. In a country that might lack a shared artistic culture, Gord Downie is one of the few unifying forces. It is not often that a celebrity death sparks a statement from the Prime Minister, but with Downie it didn’t feel like a question. On October 17, 2017, his death was felt across the country. I still remember calling my parents. It was barely seven in the morning back in BC, and you could hear the devastation in both of their voices.

Even more impressive is that nearly a year later his presence is still undeniably felt. On the micro scale, it’s in my mom’s weekly updates on what’s happening on her “Tragically Hip Facebook Fan Page,” a Facebook group that boasts over 13,000 members and still has nearly two dozen new posts every day. It’s here that my mom and many others have found a community of those equally devastated by Downie’s passing, and those who are trying to create a positive legacy for him.

On the macro level, his presence is a positive legacy. Following his cancer diagnosis, Downie committed his career to reconciliation. The Tragically Hip’s music had always had allusions to this, as early as Fully Completely’s “Looking for a Place to Happen,” which takes up the violence and racism of colonial settlers in Canada.

In 2016, Downie released the album Secret

illustration

| iris deng

Path, which told the story of Chanie Wenjack, an Ojibwe boy who tried to walk the 400 miles from the Cecelia Jeffrey Indian Residential School to his home. Wearing only a light windbreaker in the Canadian winter, Chanie froze to death. Chanie’s story is not the only one of this nature and, as Downie puts it, “his story is Canada’s story.”

Downie committed his final year of life to the Downie Wenjack Fund, an organization that is still dedicated to reconciliation in Canada. I was born the year the last residential school closed, yet it was not until I was 11 that our Prime Minister issued an apology. I have met people in their 40s who did not know about residential schools until recently. Canada has a long way to go to make up for the travesties we have committed. By using his last months to create a key educational resource for millions of Canadians, Downie left a legacy I am proud to support.

Falling for autumn Tunes for the changing of the seasons mena fouda associate arts and culture editor

We are experiencing a time of transition and that calls for a soundtrack. These songs are assembled to help make the natural cycle of the world sound a little bit groovier. Ease your way into mid-October with these tunes from various genres—dream pop, folk, psychedelic rock. The leaves around us may be dying, but these songs can make you feel alive.

“California Dreamin’” by The Mamas & The Papas “Autumn Love” by Death Cab for Cutie “Super Natural” by Turnover “The Fairest Of The Seasons” by Nico “The Wind” by Cat Stevens/Yusuf Islam “hard rain” by Lykke Li “Intruxx” by Glass Animals “Yes I’m Changing” by Tame Impala “Mystified” by Fleetwood Mac “The Way Things Change” by Yellow Days

illustration

| mia carnevale

12 ARTS AND CULTURE

EDITOR | HARRISON WADE ARTSANDCULTURE@THESTRAND.CA

Mystical landscapes?

Anthropocene is visually stunning, but falls short of making a statement

photos

hana nikcevic photo editor

Twice before, photographer Edward Burtynsky and filmmakers Jennifer Baichwal and Nicholas de Pencier have collaborated on ecologically-oriented films: Manufactured Landscapes (2006) and Watermark (2013).

While Manufactured Landscapes accompanied a suite of photographs by Burtynsky, Anthropocene is uniquely both a film and a full-scale exhibit, with iterations installed concurrently at the Art Gallery of Ontario and the National Gallery of Canada (Ottawa).

Both the exhibit and the movie inform us: “We have reached an unprecedented moment in the history of this planet. Humans now change the Earth’s systems more than all natural forces combined. As a result, scientists are gathering evidence towards establishing a new geological epoch: the Anthropocene.”

The term ‘Anthropocene’ has been challenged for more than geological validity. Jason W. Moore, for example, has suggested ‘Capitalocene’ as a more accurate alternative, in that it points to capitalism as the root of the problem instead of to an inherent and uniform human nature; Donna Haraway agrees, taking a systemsoriented approach in suggesting ‘Chthulucene.’ While these terms are mentioned in the ‘glossary’ included in the press kit, neither––nor the idea of contestation at all––is referenced in the film or exhibit.

Unsurprisingly, the film is beautifully shot. It moves through its thematic case studies deftly and coherently: terraforming, anthroturbation, extinction, and technofossils are a few of these themes, all of which are examples of large-scale human effects on the Earth.

Baichwal, de Pencier, and Burtynsky say that they aim for this work to be not “accusatory” but “revelatory.” Burtynsky laments that discussions of climate change tend to bifurcate unreasonably and detrimentally into political dichotomies, and he says that, with this project, the artists “don’t want to offend anyone.” In the film, however, this attitude of intended equality seems instead sometimes to be one of ambivalence or detach-

ment. Baichwal lauds the film’s inclusion of ironies, but, due to the film’s suppression of commentary, these ironies are prone to expressing themselves as ambiguities.

Baichwal says they chose global examples of humanaffected environments that “announced themselves visually,” because, otherwise, it would have been impossible to relay the intended message. A “seemingly-pristine lake that in actuality is so toxic it requires one to don a HAZMAT suit to approach its shores” is an example she offers of a case that would have required too much explanation. And yet: would not a HAZMAT-clad individual on the banks of a glittering lake be uniquely evocative of the insidious, large-scale destruction Anthropocene attempts to communicate? The artists seem to be intent on showing instead of telling, but their attempts at so doing seem misguided at times. Baichwal loves that scenes of plant cultivation in a converted British bunker appear nefarious while being progressive, but conversely audience members expressed confusion about the lithium production that also seems harmful but is, apparently, a sustainable method of sourcing energy. The burning of piles of confiscated elephant tusks in Kenya appears violent and dismal, but it positively communicates that there can be no more market for elephant ivory. While this example rises above its visual irony, it is undermined by a later episode. An ivory carver has ‘positively’ moved on from now-illegal elephant tusks to carving Siberian mammoth tusks, now accessible in melting permafrost. Baichwal sees this, too, as a moment of clever irony in that climate change allows this carver to adopt a non-violent medium––but this is irreconcilable with the Kenyan government’s attempt at fixing the problem of poaching by targeting the market demand. What happens when there are no more mammoth tusks? Already, poachers are attempting to pass off illegal elephant ivory as mammoth ivory.

In attempting to present this project without ‘accusing,’ by being objective, the artists instead appear to balk at making a statement. When Burtynsky says climate change isn’t a political issue, he seems to be saying that the issue transcends political party lines because climate change affects everyone. Why, then, are we are

| edward burtynsky

still trying to kindly convince the unconvinced that humans have a hugely destructive effect on the Earth? Are we not sufficiently past the revelatory––An Inconvenient Truth (2006) has already been made––that it might even make sense to be accusatory? Sometimes it seems that the filmmakers are hesitant to involve their film with activism, as though this will compromise its status as art.

Still, the film does show such a variety of scenarios and locations that the five years of production are evident. In some ways, it does not make sense for me to criticize it: I was largely unfamiliar with almost every example of environmental destruction (and rehabilitation) that Anthropocene explored, and it would not even occur to me to recommend that anyone not see the film.

It might be quiet, but it is still quietly moving.

If Anthropocene the film is flawed, however, in being too hesitant to make potentially polarising statements, then Anthropocene the exhibit is flawed in being hesitant to state anything at all.

Burtynsky’s photos are, of course, stunning. Drawing brilliantly-hued textures––like marble, like mosaic, like striated agate––out of industrialised landscapes, he displays the ironic beauty of environmentally-destructive practices and addresses not only our concerning (and sometimes deliberate) ignorance about them but also the gradual replacement of ‘natural landscape’ with, indeed, ‘manufactured landscape.’ The way the ‘natural environment’ has historically been idealized and romanticized through landscape painting or photography figures here, too––Burtynsky simply switches out the natural for the human-made, pointing to its prevalence.

Stitching together hundreds of photos into vast composite images, Burtynsky creates sweeping views from airborne vantage points. In exceeding the parameters of that which is perceptible by the naked eye, these images suggest that there’s no innate way to comprehend the vastness of the industry, effect, and damage that humans have created. Mathematical and precise, large, matte, and squarely at eye-level, Burtynsky’s photographs confront the viewer and plainly state that they depict an unavoidable reality.

ARTS AND CULTURE 13

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 16 OCTOBER 2018

But––and maybe this is a necessary evil of pairing photographs with a film of the same subject––when seen together, it is difficult to avoid feeling that Burtynsky’s photographs are little more than limited views of what is perceptible in the film. A photograph of a chemical plant might be devastating, but, when a film is able to capture an equally evocative image as well as the fact that the ravaged land extends ten times that distance in every direction, there suddenly seems to be an inefficacy to the photography. Perhaps this is an obvious criticism, or one invalidated by the fact that maybe many photographs would seem inadequate if presented alongside a moving-image complement.

Still––de Pencier, Baichwal, and Burtynsky haven’t paired their films with exhibits before, and there is no inherent reason that doing so must be successful.

There is a level of contextualization, too, that is achieved in the film but not in the exhibit. The film is dedicated to evidencing not only scenes of environmental destruction but also the incongruously positive locations or events that complement them––for example, after we see the intensive tunnelling (‘anthroturbation’) required for a high-speed train in Gotthard, Switzerland, we watch the train’s opening ceremonies, which must now seem to us inconceivably, inappropriately joyful. Here, the film successfully points out the potential vastness of the discrepancy between what we perceive in our everyday environments and the environmental toll of our daily activities. de Pencier noted that the film aims to be “experiential, not didactic.” I wonder, however, whether that divide can really apply for a film, which is fundamentally not experiential: sometimes, explanation can clarify.

The use of augmented reality (and some video) in the exhibit might be an attempt at atoning for that potential limitation to photography, but––particularly for a project centred on taking a more ‘natural’ approach to the earth––sliding the digital realm in between the

BY BEING OBJECTIVE, THE ARTISTS INSTEAD APPEAR TO BALK AT MAKING A STATEMENT viewer and the immediate environment is somewhat jarring. Certainly, as ever more practices adopt or are consumed by the digital, a nostalgia for the material and analog may arise more as a general impulse than as a case-by-case judgment. But looking at an iPad screen instead of engaging with the immediacy of the gallery space feels like having to place boundaries on your vision; giving each AR sculpture a physical “trigger” and thus an attempt at location and fixity feels a little like shoehorning in––and trying to justify––a superfluous technology. Jane Jacobs’ idea that “old buildings need new ideas” is certainly true, but the frequent conviction that these new ideas must take the form of digital innovation seems amiss: the non-AR works and concepts in Anthropocene are, quite literally, new in and of themselves.

Then again, the AR works may draw an entirely sound metaphor specifically in being dissatisfying.

That which is virtually reconstructed, here, is that which will never again take physical form as a result of destructive human activity: the last male white rhinoceros, the Kenyan government’s ceremoniously incinerated hoard of confiscated ivory tusks. The underwhelming, disruptive, and acutely artificial nature of augmented reality exactly conveys the inadequacy of human engineering to replace that which has been lost or to salvage that which is nearly gone. Burtynsky’s photographs of a human-made concrete sea wall––an

antidote to rising sea levels––express this same idea.

What a strange paradox it is to think that we can reconstruct our world using the same materials with which we brought about its destruction.

Environmental sensitivity seems to be a phase so many ‘grow out of,’ though, and Anthropocene’s (at least attempted) integration of art and science is commendable. Burtynsky celebrates “raising awareness” by emblazoning ‘ANTHROPOCENE’ on streetcars––perhaps he doesn’t fully address the fact that the word might be an entry point into a vital conversation more than the conversation itself, but indeed thus functions the exhibit at large. Did I know what terraforming was before Anthropocene? Did I consider what it meant to grow up or raise a family in an industrial town with hardly anything ‘natural’ in sight? (No!) Nearly everything in this review is something I discussed with a friend, a group of people, or a professor, and all of these have been vital and deeply enlightening discussions that I otherwise would not have had. In short, while Anthropocene cannot be the last word on human-engineered environmental crisis, it starts the right conversation.

Anthropocene the exhibit is presented jointly by the Art Gallery of Ontario and the National Gallery of Canada (Ottawa). It is co-curated by the AGO’s Sophie Hackett, the NGC’s Andrea Kunard, and Urs Stahel.

The exhibit runs until January 6, 2019. Screenings of the documentary Anthropocene, Manufactured Landscapes, and Watermark will be held at the AGO through October and November; see ago.ca for more information.

Artist comments are from the AGO Media Preview on September 25, 2018 and the TIFF Q&A on October 5, 2018. Further information is available at theanthropocene.org. Specifically, various noteworthy sustainability-oriented organizations can be found at theanthropocene.org/positive-change.

14 STRANDED

EDITOR | LEO MORGENSTERN STRANDED@THESTRAND.CA

It’s COCKtober You know what that means! becky gu the spookiest slut on the block

TORONTO – Boo! Sorry, did I scare you? It’s officially COCKtober! And you know what that means. It’s dick sucking awareness month! So put your costumes on and go door to door begging for that good good!

Here are some ways you can get spooky: get fisted by a skeleton, shove candy corn course suck some Dracula dick!

DICK OR TREAT!

in your pussy, and of

It is absolutely imperative that you show this to twelve spooky sluts to show that you’re ready to get some chocolate covered dick . If you get seven back, you’re a slutty witch bitch, but if you get back you’re the spookiest slut on the block! However, if you don’t show this to twelve other thots, you will get NO DICK this Hallowe’en In other news, SLUT-O-WEEN is also upon us! If you’re reading this article, you are queen of the thots ! Show this to seven of the thOtTiEsT thots that you know and you will get some soon. However, if you don’t, be prepared for 69 days of bad luck.

Easter has an Egg Hunt, COCKtober has an Eggplant Hunt! We’ve hidden Eggplants all over Stranded. Can you find all 69?

Air Pee ’n’ Pee It’s like Air B’n’B for peeing!

Dearest A. M. DiAvolo, Thank you for your email! We at Poober are delighted to share this bowel movement of innovation with early flushers like yourself. We wouldn’t be pooping without people like you! I’m also delighted that your 21-year-long defecation vacation has finally come to a relieving end. I can’t imagine the toll that must have had on your body! But you’d be surprised how many other people are just like you: doing all-fibre, no-water diets because they have nowhere to pee! But hold your urine no longer! You can finally let go of that urethra and let that satisfying sensation rain all over the floor, because due to your feedback, we’re proud to announce Poober’s companion app: Air Pee ’n’ Pee! What is Air Pee ’n’ Pee, you ask? Well it’s a lot like the conveniently placed trash can in the infinite queue for the bathroom during a Beastie Boys concert. It’s similar to Air B’n’B, except instead of finding you a place to sleep, we find you a place to pee. But do we just find toilets? Not anymore! Following the success of our competitor app “U Can Literally P Anywhere When No1 Is Looking™,” Air Pee ’n’ Pee is now proud to offer up bushes, walls, idle delivery workers, and crowded TTC stations for your urinary needs.

Want to support Air Pee ’n’ Pee? Here’s how: -Find the link to our Gofundme on The Strand’s website, thestrand.ca/category/stranded -Watch our original series streaming on Amazon called Urination Street -Use our hashtag #hydrationnationurinationstation. For every retweet, you get to pee once for free Happy wizzing, Air Pee ’n’ Pee Co-Founder, Ivanta Motoiletz

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 16 OCTOBER 2018

STRANDED 15

Organ of the week: the placenta A biweekly series leo morgenstern stranded editor

The placenta: everyone has one, but almost no one truly understands it. With this piece, we hope to change that.

Here are some important facts about the placenta.

1. The placenta gets its name from the Latin word for “Mama’s making pancakes.”

2. Nobody is sure what the placenta does, but some scientists hypothesize that it plays an important role in determining whether or not someone is a total nerd.

3. The popular Drake song “My Placenta is Big and Red and Won’t Stop Vibrating Somebody Please Help” is rumored to be about the placenta.

4. Placentas come in three sizes: tall, grande, and venti. Many early civilizations used placenta size as a measure of masculinity.

5. The placenta was accidentally discovered by Dr. Dorothy Hurst when she was trying to find a North-West Passage to India. The placenta was mistakenly referred to as “India” for almost 30 years.

6. Contrary to popular belief, Bill Gates originally coined the term “Microsoft” as an adjective to describe his placenta, not his penis.

Profs—they’re just like you! arin klein contributor

1. They have first names, too!

And sometimes even nicknames—he may be named Matthew, but you can call him Matt!

2. They also pronounce “Quercus” incorrectly.

You may pronounce it “qwurr-kiss” or even “qwhere-kiss,” but it’s actually pronounced the way it’s spelled when you read it in the mirror. Who knew!?

3. They used to update their MSN statuses with emotional song lyrics.

What better way to let people know how you’re feeling than by quoting My Chemical Romance?

4. They have also never met someone from Woodsworth College.

More like “Who-dsworth,” am I right!!!

5. They hate that they “have to” give you a final exam.

But do they really hate it? Some excuses I’ve heard: “Sorry, it’s just the rules of 100-level courses,” or “We need a variety of evaluation methods.”

6. They have, in fact, felt “like a plastic bag / drifting through the wind / wanting to start again.”

Don’t forget—profs have feelings too.

16 STRANDED

@STRANDPAPER THE STRAND | 16 OCTOBER 2018

SETH JERRY SEINFELD ROGEN

E H T G N I W E I E V V ’ E I R S B * E L T E E C LLY M ms a A e r U ACT *In my d

I said to Seth Rogen, “Hey Seth Rogen wanna hear my impression of Seth Rogen’s laugh?” He said sure. I went “hughgu hughugh hughug” and he laughed and said it was good. A Canadian treasure. I guess I’m just really talented at doing impressions!

ukh, r r a F a t Sumee st lumni o C y t i r b Cele

I was walking along the street when out of the corner of my eye I spotted him: Jerry Seinfeld. I approached him and yelled in my best nasally voice: “WHADDYA TALKIN ABOUT IT’S JERRY SEINFELD.” He stopped and said “That was pretty good.” I’m surprised—I would have thought he’d have heard everyone’s awful rendition of the same impression a million times throughout his career, but for some reason he liked mine. Nice to see he’s stayed humble and appreciative of the fans despite the fame.

KYLIE JENNER Kylie is not nice. I THOUGHT she was being my friend, because she let her nail person do my nails for me while she did my makeup, but the nail person painted my nails an ugly pukey olive colour and it was all chipped. And Kylie did my makeup SUPER WEIRD, like she wrote symbols on my forehead and drew a picture on my face of a guy saying “Give me a b***j*b.” My mom was like “Wtf is your makeup.” I didn’t even know until i looked in the mirror. It wasn’t very nice of her tbh.