The Strand | Vol. 65, Issue 8

ELLIS

Clubs and associations used less than half of the money the Victoria University Students’ Administrative Council (VUSAC) budgeted out to them for the Fall 2022 semester, according to the latest available VUSAC information the Finance Chair provided to e Strand is includes all purchases except for a pending $300.00 amount.

Clubs spent 47 percent of their total $15,520.32 budget, and commissions spent 51 percent of their $23,081.55, making their total utilisation rate 49 percent. is $19,505.75 surplus in the total budget for clubs and commissions was meant to fund parties, arts and crafts, speaker events, and more last semester, yet remained unused.

“Ideally [student organisations] should be spending their full funding every single year,” VUSAC’s president Sooyeon Lee told e Strand in a virtual interview on January 22nd. “But this is a pretty typical trend that we do see of Fall and Winter semester spending year by year.”

is is an oft-discussed topic at VUSAC meetings; at the rst meeting of this semester, Finance Chair

omas Keough told the council, “Our utilisation is looking really subpar. And this is not a new problem. is is not to call out this particular iteration of VUSAC, or this Vic community as being horrible at spending. is is typical.”

Other small spenders

For funds related to running VUSAC itself, executives spent 36 percent of their $7,298.02 budget, and sta spent 36 percent of $14,191.57. Items in these categories include o ce supplies, a training retreat, a rst aid course for council members, and contingency funds.

VUSAC does not yet have utilisation rates for Vic levies, including e Strand, which are another category of student groups with more nancial independence. eir funding comes directly from student fees and is deposited into their private bank accounts at the beginning of each academic year.

Before events start up for the semester, student groups, like clubs, and associations request their budget from VUSAC, which they hope will be rati ed through an all-council meeting. e process also includes an initial budget steering committee meeting—to ensure that the requested budget amounts requested abide by speci c rules—and later, smaller windows for students to request to reallocate or to be given more funds.

Student leaders: too spent to spend?

Michael Elsaesser, Vice-President of Student Organisations, says one potential cause for the surplus might be all too familiar to the UofT community: being swamped with work.

He told e Strand that student leaders in charge of budgets “are still human beings that have their own personal lives, social lives, and school lives […] so while students at the beginning of the term might be really ambitious and want to run all these events and want to have all these initiatives, throughout the term things might come up where it's like, ‘oh, I just couldn't run that.’”

Lee points to a lack of experience in student leaders due to pandemic measures requiring the cancellation of in-person programming over the past couple of years: “A lot of the people who are in these positions now have never been in leadership positions before and have very little experience event planning

or planning for things that would need a budget,” she told e Strand

One student leader, Diana Vink, VUSAC’s Equity Commissioner, explained her group’s surplus to e Strand by saying, “I think we budgeted for more events than we ended up actually doing.” Women’s Circle, the Vic club with the highest fall budget, could not use all of its funding “mostly because we didn’t have the chance to organise,” representative Mariam Aser told e Strand e di culty of predicting student participation can also hamper spending plans. Rebecca Muscant, the Co-Chair of the Sustainability Commission, told e Strand, “We did pretty much all of the events we'd set out to do,” although they found it hard to predict student interest in di erent activities, like whether students preferred thrift shopping or speaker presentations.

Another, though perhaps less common scenario in which an organisation might not use their own funding, is when a di erent entity o ers to foot the bill instead of VUSAC.

Amelia Collet, VUSAC’s Arts and Culture Commissioner, told e Strand in an email, “If I were to guess, I would think budget utilisation has been higher in previous years.” One of their performances, e Bob Sketch Comedy Revue, was originally budgeted as a VUSAC expense, but ended up being covered by the Performing Arts Endowment, she writes.

Frugality with student fees

is year each Victoria College student automatically contributed either $25.94 (full-time fee) or $15.46 (part-time fee) to VUSAC and club funding. is makes up the bulk of the $60,091.46 Fall semester budget and $129,467.93 Winter semester rati ed budget, both of which do not include levies nor cash in ows. Clubs and commissions further aimed to generate $3400.00 in revenue in the Fall semester through ticket sales for various events and through Equity council’s subsidised menstrual cup sales.

Vic students are required to pay the third highest annual fee for their student council (not including levies) out of UofT’s seven colleges, after Innis at $54.06 (full and part-time fee) and Trinity at $68.00 (full and part-time fee).

As for levies, Vic students give these 12 studentrun groups either $41.59 (full-time fee) or $21.19 (part-time fee). In the Fall term rati ed budget Vic’s 12 levies planned to spend $74,021.34 of their funds and, in the Winter term rati ed budget, $88,286.09.

Saving the surplus

“If [clubs] don't spend all their money that they requested, it just stays within the VUSAC bank account. As levies have a separate bank account, it just

stays in theirs,” says Lee.

For instance, the Victoria College Athletics Association levy told e Strand that they plan on rolling over any unspent funds, saying, “Our budget plan for this semester aims to use all of the money budgeted for the Winter plus any surplus leftover from Fall.”

As for whether a relatively low utilisation rate should a ect how much VUSAC gives clubs in future budgeting periods, Keough says, “It’s a case by case basis.” He says requesting money after showing an inability to spend the previous semester’s amount could show poor planning, or even guilt over not hosting enough events the semester before.

“Ultimately, I tend to ask VUSAC members to stay away from the ideology that if they have poor utilisation, they don't deserve funding,” he concludes.

From gatherings to gift cards

e lack of in-person programming during the COVID-19 pandemic further hampered budget utilisation, according to the VUSAC executives e Strand spoke with. Many organisation leaders turned to “giveaways,” ranging from presents that were loosely related to the club’s mission to UberEats gift cards.

$18,759.81, or roughly 17 percent of the $111,858.47 that VUSAC budgeted to commissions, levies, and clubs in the 2022 Fall term rati ed budget, was allocated to giveaways, according to a count from e Strand at same tally sees giveaways this semester taking up 9 percent of VUSAC’s $129,514.69 Winter budget which was rati ed on January 27.

What this gure counts as “giveaways” was anything that participants could keep outside of club meetings, ranging from the 44 sweaters costing $1,680.00 that the Cat’s Eye planned to buy for its sta , to the Mental Wellness Commission's planned $1,200.00 plant giveaway for this term.

Elsaesser sees the merit in giveaways related to organisations’ missions, but says, “It's not at the same level as like the big events where you [...] meet people, and you get to really form that community with others.”

Keough says, “You get some free money, and students have paid for that free money. So it's kind of messy. I do think that giveaways have their place, but I think that they should not be the cornerstone of the student groups’ events […] now that we're back in person, and now that the mandate of student council and student groups in general should be to foster community among students at Vic.”

e money tree of student fees

So should VUSAC continue taking this much mandatory money from Vic students for its budget when its clubs are unable to spend it?

“Given our existing utilisation numbers, I think there is a pretty strong argument for reducing student fees. But I'm just not sure if it would solve the utilisation problem,” argues omas.

“I think it's more of a symptom of just having student group leaders also be UofT students. Whatever they plan initially will not necessarily come to fruition.”

Lee said about budget surpluses: “If it ends up being a one time thing, then I think that's one thing. But if it ends up being a repeated pattern of people not spending the money that they are allocated, I think that [begs the] question, ‘should we lower fees?’”

Victoria College clubs spent less than half their fall-term budgets. What happened?

MAEVE

ASSOCIATE COPY EDITOR

“Systemic issue” of Vic student fees not being spent

PHOTO | VUSAC

Housing in 2023: What to expect

Learning from recent changes in property values

Meanwhile, in 2023 the GTA is expected to see a record number of new condo units, despite the Royal Bank of Canada's (RBC) prediction that the housing market will crash.

e RBC's Monthly Housing Update predicts that there will be price corrections all across Canada. e report states that for the housing market in Ontario, "a cyclical bottom is approaching—likely in early 2023." According to the RBC, the decline will continue until spring at the earliest.

With Toronto real estate prices being so hard to predict, what should commuter students expect when looking for places to stay?

Toronto's housing market has taken multiple unexpected turns in the past few years. In the early days of the COVID-19 pandemic, the demand for new real estate increased drastically largely because people were spending more time in their homes. Following this jump, property values were stable for most of 2021.

Towards the start of 2022, housing prices accelerated rapidly, causing record highs. In March of 2022, the Canadian Real Estate Association (CREA) benchmark price for a place in Ontario peaked at $1.08 million which was 64 percent higher than before the pandemic. e prices then started falling due to increased interest rates and buyer fatigue. e CREA benchmark piece has fallen about 20 percent since then, bringing the prices back to what they were in September 2021. e number of new home sales within the GTA was at its lowest since 2018. None of these changes were expected within the market.

Although the GTA had been expecting to see a record number of condos entering the housing market, the Canada Mortgage and Housing Corporation (CMHC) warned that the increased building costs, drop in condo reconstruction sales, and increased interest rates will possibly "lead to project cancellations or delays in project launches." Due to the current uncertainty within the market, real estate analysts expect the number of sales and listings to remain low for the upcoming months. e CMHC foresees that the price decline will continue until the year's second quarter.

e housing supply crunch has put Premier Doug Ford and his promise to have 1.5 million homes built in Ontario in the following decade in a di cult position. Ford has been using the province’s perceived lack of housing to justify cutting into the greenbelt for new housing and overpowering conservation authorities.

Commuter students should expect housing prices to continue to fall until the end of the winter semester, with limited housing options to choose from at the end of the cycle. ose looking for places at the moment can be advised to wait while prices continue to fall.

Here’s what you need to know about

new alcohol guidelines

The

latest

stats are in on drinking—and they’re pretty dire.

e Canadian Centre on Substance Use and Addiction (CCSA) kicked o the new year by delivering a long-awaited report on the risks of alcohol consumption. e report updates Canadian medical guidance in accordance with new evidence on the risks of alcohol consumption since the CCSA’s previous report established guidelines in 2011. e report, entitled Canada’s Guidance on Alcohol and Health, makes several drastic changes to the previous government alcohol guidelines.

Prior to January 2023, the Canadian government recommended individuals assigned male at birth consume no more than 15 standard drinks per week and individuals assigned female at birth consume no more than ten standard drinks per week. Now, the CCSA’s updated guidelines suggest fewer than two standard drinks for all individuals. A standard drink is de ned by the CCSA as the equivalent of a 12-oz. bottle of ve percent alcohol beer, or a 5-oz. glass of 12 percent alcohol wine.

ese new recommendations have been made according to the most recent research on the risk of premature death due to alcohol consumption. According to the CCSA, current medical research suggests that ingesting between one and two alcoholic drinks per week increases a person’s risk of premature death to 1 in 1000. However, ingesting between three and six drinks per week increases the same risk to 1 in 100, and the risk of premature death increases substantially for each additional drink beyond six. is e ect is more pronounced in individuals assigned female at birth than those assigned male at birth.

Alcohol has been known to contribute to a variety

of health conditions including cancer, heart disease, and stroke. Alcohol is a proven carcinogen for seven types of cancer, and Health Canada attributes 7,000 cases of cancer death to alcohol consumption per year. Alcohol consumption is also a proven risk factor for most types of cardiovascular disease, including heart failure, as well as a leading cause of liver disease through the build-up of fat in the liver. e CCSA also warns that alcohol is known to increase incidences of violent behaviour and can elevate the risk of intimate partner violence and assault.

In their report, the CCSA calls on the Canadian government to introduce new health warning labels on alcohol containers to ensure public awareness of

Canada’s

the proven carcinogenic e ects of alcohol as well as to inform consumers of the units of standard drinks in a container of alcohol. Legislation to that e ect is already underway—Bill S-254, tabled in the Senate by Senator Patrick Brazeau in November 2022, would require all manufacturers of alcohol in Canada to place cancer warning labels on alcohol containers and is currently in its second reading on the Senate oor. If a majority of senators vote in favour of the Bill, it will move to a vote in the House of Commons.

e CCSA reminds Canadians that the only way to eliminate the risks associated with drinking alcohol is to not drink at all.

ROY SHI CO-NEWS EDITOR

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

PHOTO | KELSEY PHUNG

EDITORS-IN-CHIEF editors@thestrand.ca

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EDITORIAL ASSISTANTS

ASSOCIATE EDITORS

FEATURES EUGENE KIM

ARTS AND CULTURE

M KAELA MOORE

COPYEDITING

MAEVE ELLIS

PHOTO NICHOLAS TAM

WEB SOUP SHANKAR

LIAM DONOVAN

Our year of (un)wellness and chaos

JANNA ABBAS RION LEVY

JANUS KWONG

VICTORIA ALLDER

ADAM LAM

MAX LEES ROY SH

ABI AKINLADE

SAM ROSATI MARTIN

KIERAN GUIMOND

SARAH ABERNETHY

FAITH WERSHBA

EMMA MACKENZIE ISHIKA RISH

ROENSA SAL JA

CHLOE LOUNG

KELSEY PHUNG

SHELLEY YAO

JERICO RAGUINDIN

ISHA RIZWAN

RIYA UXA

ROMINA EMTYAZI

SAKURA ARMSTRONG

OPINIONS KALLIOPÉ ANVAR MCCALL

SCIENCE

YUNA LEE

STRANDED VACANT

DESIGN WENDY WAN

PODCAST VACANT

Relaxation? We hardly know her

JANNA ABBAS AND RION LEVY EDITORS-IN-CHIEF

You must be surprised by the title… Us university students don’t even know what wellness is! As UofT students, we’re used to being problem solvers, but when it comes to guring out a healthy work-life balance, we just can’t seem to make it work. From procrastination to blatantly not doing the work, when it comes to unhealthy coping mechanisms, we have those down. Shockingly, no amount of health and wellness packets have been able to help. So, this issue is our attempt at guring out what wellness means to us, not just as students at UofT, but at Victoria College as well.

e start of this semester has felt more chaotic than usual; having to rush from Vic to Robarts in the snowy weather to complete a mountain of readings has really been taking a toll on us. Because we know you might be in the same boat, here is a Janna and Rion-approved week’s worth of wellness activities at Vic to make your day just a little bit better:

Monday: Avoid the Ned’s pasta and yogurt parfaits. Instead, try the cherry yogurt danish (you’ll thank us later).

Tuesday: Order a lavender London fog from Ca ends because you deserve it!

Wednesday: Pick up a plate of VOCA pancakes in the Cat’s Eye.

ursday: Souper Soup in Goldring!

Friday: Skip all of your classes–for your well-being, of course–but attend your weekly Strand meeting.

Do these activities actually help us get our work done? Debatable. But do they add some wellness to our lives? De nitely.

If you can tell that we are at a loss for what to talk about in this editorial, you are right. Wellness really is a foreign concept to most of us in our early twenties—it’s seemingly expensive, time-consuming, and, ironically, downright exhausting. We don’t know about you, but we’re getting really sick and tired of being told that [insert exorbitantly expensive new product] is gonna x all of our problems ‘cause now we’re all out of money, but our problems seem to be going nowhere…

In our little guide to rest and relaxation, you can pick up a warm cup of tea and sit down with Stranded’s 10 tips for better mental health. If that’s not your speed, head over to Features where Zoe Lazaris, Shane Joy, and Kate Haberl go over the history of Vic’s not-so-secret Stephenson House, followed by a News update on Toronto’s housing crisis. Of course, if reading feels like a bit too much, just turn on Arts and Culture’s Wellness playlist, draw yourself a bath, and remember that amidst the chaos of life, taking some time for yourself is a necessity.

Well, there you have it. ese are all of our wellness tips. Give them a try – maybe they’ll add a bit of sparkle to your day. And if all else fails, you know what they say: when life gives you lemons, get high*. See you next issue, we have a feeling it’s gonna be a sexy one.

*on life of course.

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

The Strand has been the newspaper of record for Victoria University since 1953. It is published 12 times a year with a circulation of 800 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.

Not your aesthetic

Content warning: discussions of disordered eating, and mention of various mental health disorders.

If you stumble around on Tumblr, Twitter, or TikTok for long enough, you’ll see it: blackand-white pictures of razor blades overlaid with sad quotes, girls with dark mascara bleeding down their cheeks, Lana Del Rey lyrics pasted atop images of an overcast sky, and a measuring tape wrapped around a thin waist, all liked, reblogged, and reposted hundreds of times. Poetic sadness, beautiful tragedy, a caricature of suffering. Social media has created a romanticised aesthetic of mental illness—and it is not only inaccurate, but harmful.

Scrolling through the images on these platforms, watching To the Bone or Thirteen Reasons Why , a clear image of the ill individual takes shape. A white girl in her teens or early twenties; pale skin with artfully smudged black eyeliner; thin from self-denial or simple disinterest, as food is much less important than her poetic contemplations; faint scars from a mysterious past, half-hidden beneath long sleeves; face adorned with a tragic smile or delicate tears; and beautiful in a haunting way that happy girls aren’t. The shadows beneath her red-rimmed eyes are dark enough to make her look a little tired—she listened to Mitski and penned evocative verses instead of sleeping—but never so much as to detract from her heart-rending charm. Anxiety complements her quirky personality and leads her to linger in corners at parties, an unconventional and fascinating magnet that always draws an admiring crowd. Depression manifests itself in the girl's fondness for black clothing and occasional crying spells, marked by silent tears that her ever-patient boyfriend brushes off her cheeks. Her restrictive eating habits don’t irritate or shock her friends— who would never leave her, of course—but it still keep her wrists delicate and collarbones visible. Whether it’s the infamous “thinspo” images on Tumblr, the “edtwt” community on Twitter, the “depression quotes” circulating on Instagram, or the “sad girl aesthetic” that has reentered the popular imagination since the pandemic, representations of mental illness in the media reinforce this misleading image.

I’ll admit it—I admire that girl. In fact, I envy her. She looks effortlessly pretty during panic attacks, and I’d like to know what brand of mascara she uses that runs in such a flattering way. My experiences with mental illness have been much different and far less attractive. My depression is less camerafriendly crying and more so sudden, messy storms of inconsolable sobbing that nobody wants—or even knows how—to comfort me

through; less catchy poetry and more hours spent trapped in bed like a pathetically dead insect pinned to styrofoam. Anxiety is less cute nervousness and more embarrassing hyperventilation, lungs suffocating themselves, and being sick in the dirty bathroom of a train station. Anorexia is less so a discreet denial of food out of admirable self-control and more so screaming matches with my parents over the birthdays and Christmases I’ve ruined. It’s less casual forgetfulness of meals and more obsessive researching of “calories in five unsalted almonds.” It means more threats of hospitalisation, forced walks through bonechilling snowstorms, and secret exercises in the middle of the night, and handfuls of hair falling through my fingers from malnutrition. Mental illness is not cute, romantic, or desirable—it’s the classes I’ve dropped and the jobs I’ve been forced to quit, the endless rotation of pills that never seem to work, the ugly lines of discoloured skin that draw scrutinising stares and prying questions. It’s being uncertain about whether I’ll see another year. It’s hoping I don’t. It's the police my doctor called, while banging on the door to see if I’m dead. Nothing is beautiful when it steals half of your life and curses the rest. And unlike the girl in the films, I lose nearly all the friends I make: if they don’t walk away in exasperation or alarm, I push them out myself to avoid the inevitable collapse. And nobody can brush the tears off my cheeks if I can’t maintain a stable relationship for more than a month. I’m sorry, I can’t go to parties or restaurants—I have a clinical meal plan to follow, and I forget how to breathe in the presence of strangers. People never think that’s cute. So no, mental illness has not made me attractive: it has made me disagreeable and insane, unfit for relationships, and a burden on an expectant society.

And what about everything else? While “mental illness” in the media has become synonymous with rose-tinted depictions of the romantic trifecta of depression, anxiety, and anorexia, other conditions are hardly mentioned, if at all. Personality disorders, schizophrenia, psychosis, bipolar disorder, bulimia, OCD, and countless others are shown only through stigmatising caricatures or surrounded by fearful silence, deemed unpalatable for general consumption and too difficult to glamourise.

Even within its limited repertoire, the media utterly fails to reflect the diversity of mental illness victims. Ethnic minorities and LGBTQ+ individuals have been shown to be similarly or more vulnerable to poor mental health than their white, heterosexual,

or cisgender counterparts, and yet they are conspicuously absent from Tumblr’s aesthetic images. Despite what these flawed portrayals suggest, mental illness is not picky—it does not limit its claws to young, straight, cisgender white women.

This selective romanticisation of mental illness is not representation, and it does more harm than good. It encourages the glamorisation and even fetishisation of a false notion of suffering, and it trivialises the diverse and immense challenges faced by those who live with psychiatric disorders, reducing their

pain to an aesthetic. It discourages us from speaking out about our experiences, for fear of being dismissed if we fit into the superficial mould of mental illness shaped by the media, or shamed, rejected, and ostracised if we don’t. When we fail to meet the narrow criteria of a Pinterest aesthetic, we are unceremoniously pushed from its uncomfortable pedestal. No longer the objects of misdirected admiration or desire, we are left to rot with the rest of our capitalist society’s liabilities. We struggle to pull ourselves through the insatiable demands of a neurotypical world.

In sum, mental illness is not an aesthetic. It is not beautiful or romantic. It is not an endearing quirk, a personality trait, or a cute accessory. It is a disability. It is a set of liferuining diseases that can destabilise and destroy the daily experiences of those who suffer from them. It can require constant care and years of intensive treatment—on top of a privileged financial position—to ameliorate. Too often it is fatal. We need to reframe how the media depicts and discusses mental illnesses. We need less romanticisation and more genuine, diverse representation, including more conversations that elevate the voices of people living with psychiatric disorders. We need to be allowed to share our real experiences without being invalidated, stigmatised, or shamed. If this world is ever going to become a place where we feel seen and welcome, all of us need to accept that mental illness is not pretty—and that’s okay.

Why mental illness is never pretty

GILLIAN CHAPMAN CONTRIBUTER

PHOTO | NETFLIX

Capitalism, ableism, and the glamorization of productivity

Content warning: mention of the Nazi regime

Obtaining an ADHD diagnosis was hard. e stigma surrounding cognitive disabilities and the endless hoops the medical system made me jump through certainly contributed, but the worst part was everyone around me insisting that I was faking it and that nothing was truly wrong with me. e rst thing my mom said to me when I told her I suspected that I had ADHD was that it couldn’t possibly be true. After all, I had such good grades, a fact even my doctors used as evidence against me. I did eventually get diagnosed. Nonetheless, I wasn’t prescribed medication, because my doctors continued to judge my ADHD as “not really much of a problem.” It didn’t matter that I’d grown up being told I was wasting all my potential being lazy and disorganized. Or that I had been bullied my entire life because I was considered too weird and too annoying by my neurotypical peers. Or that I’d had several recent mental breakdowns because of my overwhelming workload. My grades were excellent, which meant my ADHD apparently wasn’t much of a problem.

I am not the only one who’s faced this issue. Many neurodivergent people who aren't o cially diagnosed, or were diagnosed in adolescence or adulthood, speak of a very similar experience. Over and over, we’re told essentially one thing: that our su ering doesn’t matter as long as we measure up to everyone else’s standards of worthiness and that those standards are tied inextricably to our capability to achieve. It doesn’t matter if we bleed ourselves dry in our e orts to do so; if anything, we are encouraged to endure unimaginable levels of mental and physical anguish in order to be conventionally productive, only for this display of productivity to be leveraged against us. We are inspirations if we demonstrate our capabilities, paragons of human resilience who require no support, or we are tragedies if we accept our impairments, hopeless cases no level of support could possibly x.

e truth is, we’re neither inspirations nor tragedies; we’re human beings. Yet that is meaningless in a society de ned by capitalism, where people are not humans but resources. And what worth is a resource if it has no extractive value? Indeed, Hans Asperger, the Austrian psychologist after whom Asperger’s Syndrome is named, defended the few high functioning autistic children he deemed intelligent, yet he

participated in the Nazi child killing program. is case, while horrifying, is not unique. Disability history is brimming with countless examples of violence, systemic abuse, forced sterilization, and murder, especially since the advent of eugenics in the nineteenth century. Disabled people, by virtue of our comparatively limited ability to be conventionally productive, were judged unworthy of the right to live and reproduce.

Make no mistake. While it’s disabled people that bear the brunt of the harm dealt by this capitalist ideal, everyone su ers under it. We’ve all heard friends brag about the all-nighters they’ve pulled as if they were trophies. We all know people who seem glad to hustle away at their workplace at the cost of their personal lives, never realizing that they’re actually being exploited. We’ve all justi ed skipping meals and turning away friends to complete a project, and we’ve all worked despite being sick or exhausted. At some point in our lives, we’ve all prioritised productivity over all else, often to signi cant personal detriment, and not many of us have paused to consider whether it’s worth it.

Yet we cannot simply break away from productivity, not when lower working hours mean less pay and when lower grades mean less opportunities to obtain better, more secure jobs. Especially not amidst a historic cost-of-living crisis and the fourth consecutive year of a pandemic, all of which have shown how broken our welfare systems truly are. While your inability to be productive may not put you in a concentration camp anymore, it can absolutely render you homeless. It’s not surprising, then, that so many of us buy into the belief that our ability to achieve is what renders us worthy as people, because that idea is anything but metaphorical for many. eir human rights to food or shelter are in fact inextricably tied to their value as a resource within the capitalist machine.

One thing is clear: neither disability justice nor broader collective wellbeing can be achieved within a capitalistic framework. Oft-touted solutions like self-care and accommodations, while certainly well-meaning, are nowhere near enough. What we need is nothing short of a radical shift away from capitalism and hyper-individualism. On a structural level, we must not only strengthen social supports but universalize them, granting everyone access to not just basic necessities but also adequate comforts regardless of their ability or inclination to work. On a cultural level, we must thoroughly re-evaluate our collective priorities and move away from a pro t-centric economy to a peoplecentric society. Furthermore, we must build and bolster communities, mutual support systems, and networks of care. We must transition from independence to interdependence, because the truth remains that none of us, able or disabled, can survive without relying on one another.

In a non-capitalist world centred around interdependence and community care, I’d likely have had a far easier time asking for and receiving the supports I needed. I’d likely never have felt like my prospects for a career and future hinged upon my schoolwork, and I’d likely never have had a breakdown if I couldn’t manage my workload. I’d likely never have felt the shame of not measuring up to the standards of others, and my su ering might have been heard, recognized, and alleviated instead of being callously brushed over simply because my grades were ne.

Community care is how we decenter one’s individual productivity and recenter our collective humanity. Community care, and not individualistic self-care, is what holds the key to genuine disability justice, and what will ultimately pave the way to our greater collective wellbeing.

ATLAS CHANGULANI CONTRIBUTOR

ILLUSTRATION | YOON-JI KWEON

You’re Alice but this isn’t Wonderland (it’s your "For You" page):

Exploring the link between TikTok & escapism

ere are few certainties in life apart from death, taxes, and the fact that my next swipe on my For You Page would reveal a TikTok worthy of an ooh, an aah, or a giggle. With every consecutive swipe, I become further entranced. at is, until I inevitably catch a glimpse of the time at the top of my phone screen—3:30 AM—leading to the heart-stopping realisation that my 20 minutes of planned TikTok time had miraculously stretched to 2 hours. And just like that, another certainty of life—my 7 AM alarm—dissipates my euphoric cloud, and I come crashing back down to reality.

Escapism is de ned as “the tendency to escape from the real world to the delight or security of a fantasy world” by the American Psychological Association. As social media cements itself into our daily routines, it is important for us to rede ne escapism in a modern context, as it is no longer limited to drinking, gambling, smoking, and drug abuse. It is critical that our view of escapism considers the rise of arti cial reveries, i.e. escapism via technologically manufactured fantasies, as a convenient and accessible outlet.

Numerous studies conducted over the last decade have established a strong connection

personal lives, like work, school, relationships, and nances. To evade the tribulations of selfactualisation, we immerse ourselves in an activity where we’re able to temporarily suppress conscious thinking, forgetting the responsibilities, demands, obligations, criticisms, and judgments stemming from daily life. e advent of platforms like TikTok has streamlined this phenomenon by manufacturing an illusion of safety and comfort in a personalised fantasy world: the sardonically named “For You" page.

While it may seem a tad freakish, our escapist tendencies are actually quite rational according to psychoanalyst Sigmund Freud: “[Humans] cannot subsist on the scanty satisfaction they can extort from reality.” Professor of philosophy John L. Longeway agrees with Freud’s rationale; in the paper “ e Rationality of Escapism and SelfDeception,” he argues that escapism can serve as a necessary coping mechanism “to avoid succumbing irrationally to despair, or unless it compensates for the e ects of an environment in which it is otherwise impossible.” It would be ingenuous to believe that we could persist in a healthy mental state while being continually entrenched in the chaos of our lives. Indulging in fantasy is an inherently human act; we’ve indulged in the sanctity of arts and culture since the Middle Ages. us, to maintain a state of emotional and mental well-being, a vial of escapism can be a necessary antidote to relieve the sometimes intense dose of reality—perhaps, a therapeutic strategy to avoid burnout, rejuvenate, and even practise self-care.

But where do we draw the line between escapism and avoidance? When do our healthy periodic breaks from the trenches of reality become an unhealthy pattern of dissociation?

Our phones have become an endless rabbit hole of individualised content curated by AI algorithms. Gone are the days of simply using social media as a means of communication. Applications like TikTok and Instagram have become hubs for creativity, entertainment, and intellectual discourse all at our ngertips (quite literally). But at whose behest exactly? Could it be that we’ve become reliant on our daily x?

e 80s had cocaine, and the 90s had ecstasy. In this digital age, could online escapism become the hallmark drug of our generation?

To properly explore the multifaceted realm of escapism, it is important that we distinguish between positive and negative escapism; productive escapism can be conducive to creative expression and rejuvenation, whereas negative escapism is the all-consuming act of evading daily realities.

between escapism and excessive internet use, perpetuated by psychological and social factors. is further identi es escapism as the key driver behind social media use as both an adaptive and maladaptive coping mechanism.

In the past two decades, the social media sphere has evolved into a more nuanced platform for communication. It has transcended from being direct or one-on-one to curated online alter-egos becoming our mode of expression to the world. With so much value placed on how we’re perceived, the burden of intolerable self-awareness has intensi ed our need for escapism. Ultimately, the discrepancy between our real and idealised selves may have become too burdensome, especially when we have a 24/7 reminder of this distinction in our pockets. In addition to coping with the burden of hyper-self-awareness, escapism may stem from external pressures and stressors that plague our

Whether we nd solace in binge-watching reruns of our favourite Net ix show or advancing to new Candy Crush levels, it is important that we practise mindful content consumption and remain grounded in reality by constructively addressing the stressors in our lives.

Nevertheless, I leave you to ponder this question: How much of your mental soundness is tied to external grati cation and social perception?

ILLUSTRATION | CHELSEA WANG

The end of Stephenson House

Unaffordable housing at Vic

For students of Victoria College, the walk up and down Charles St. is full of familiar faces and scenery. You see students rushing out of Rowell Jackman Hall to get to their 9 am classes, congregating in the Goldring Student Centre to nd community, and ocking into the beloved Burwash Dining Hall to grab breakfast potatoes, wa es, and other morning treats. Charles St. has been at the heart of Victoria College for decades. In 1939, a student would likely see a similar array of faces, along with a row of homes numbered 73, 75, 77, 79, and 81—all donated by Dr. F. C. Stephenson.

77 Charles St. played a special role in the Victoria University community for decades. When he donated the houses, Stephenson made an agreement with the Board of Regents (BoR) that required Vic to use that Charles St. property for what became known as Stephenson House: a co-operative house for undergraduate students at Victoria College. In the agreement, Stephenson outlined that his donation should bene t worthy students of Victoria College who had nancial need, were resourceful, took initiative, and who had intentions of joining the United Church. In the nal clause of the agreement, Stephenson wrote that “if at any time the Board desired to use the property for any other college purpose, it shall agree to set aside a sum of $32,600 [equivalent to over $600 thousand in 2022] … to be known as ‘ e Frederick C. and Annie Stephenson Fund,’ the income from which shall be used in establishing another co-operative house or in

any other manner consistent with the general terms of the gift.”

e BoR upheld this agreement for decades. While Vic’s cherished Charles St. lost Stephenson House in the early 50s, it was reestablished at 80 St. Mary’s St., which was a home with newer facilities and was in better condition. e BoR moved Stephenson House again in the early 90s to its nal location, 63 Charles St..

Stephenson House not only provided student housing, but it also created a hub on Vic’s campus for students who were highly involved. Several former residents recalled the events that the house members held for the wider Vic community. For example, their Halloween tradition pulled in non-residents to help with setup and acting and the house opened up to the whole community.

Residents also spoke fondly of the house’s nightly dinners. House members were collectively responsible for grocery shopping, and the residents took turns cooking for each other. ose living in the house would be in attendance, and often a few guests would be there as well. Professors and administrators were often invited to dinner. Each resident had a job that helped keep the house running, and they all pitched in to complete chores.

Groceries were included in the price of rent at Stephenson House, which in 2010 was around $350 a month. Cost-adjusted for today, that would be about $3,750 for the academic year. Double rooms at

Victoria College today go for around twice that cost, nearly $10,000, not to mention the mandatory meal plan. For the 2022-2023 school year, the cheapest room in residence at Victoria College, a triple room, will set you back $8,405. Meanwhile, the cheapest meal plan rings in at $4,922. All together, that’s $13,327.

At Stephenson House, students were o ered more space, privacy, and autonomy than can be found in residence for a fraction of the price. Because residents shopped for themselves and cooked their own meals, they could accommodate an individual's dietary needs and preferences in a way that Burwash Dining Hall cannot.

After 70 years of co-operative, a ordable housing at Stephenson House, the residents became aware that the Vic administration had di erent plans for the building. After some back and forth with administrators in November 2009, the students of Stephenson House extended an olive branch to the administration by writing a comprehensive recommendation on how to continue Stephenson House amid much discussion about its disbandment. eir proposal focused on two principles that President Paul Gooch had previously outlined: “ e bene ts of the Stephenson gift are directed to Victoria College students who (a) demonstrate and wish to develop the qualities of resourcefulness and responsibility in the service of others, and (bhave nancial need.”

ZOE LAZARIS, SHANE JOY, AND KATE HABERL CONTRIBUTORS

Discussions between students and administration turned to the 12-room suite in Rowell Jackman Hall (RJ). Past President Paul Gooch described the suite as being “intended to ful l the functions of Stephenson House.” e student proposal compromised with the administration’s desire to relocate the house, but wanted to keep a number of important factors of the house's legacy. e proposal focused heavily on a ordability, suggesting a $4,000 total annual fee, $2,500 of which would go to rent and $1,500 for food and operating supplies. e proposal quoted a speech from the 1985 Stephenson House community, which said “Dr. Stephenson intended to provide an a ordable residence … Stephenson House is not intended to provide Victoria College with any revenue, and should not be seen so in the future.” Another important element of the proposal was that students in Stephenson House should not have a required meal plan as meal prep and community dinners were historically a vital part of the culture of the co-op.

e students met repeatedly with Victoria University administration, including the then President of Victoria College Gooch and Victoria College Bursar Ray deSouza, to attempt to negotiate the continuation of the Stephenson House legacy. Craig Ruttan, Stephenson House’s president at the time, describes that at a point in the negotiations “it became clear that [the Vic administration] were …no longer interested in negotiating … that's when we began organising, trying to build extra student awareness and solidarity.”

e students brought the issue to the VUSAC Caucus, started a petition, and emailed members of the BoR directly to gain support for keeping the House alive. e administration brought a proposal to the BoR in April of 2010: Stephenson House would move into RJ, and students would pay standard residence fees as well as a speci c Stephenson House meal plan.

Past VUSAC president, Catherine Brown, explained to e Strand why the students found this proposal inadequate: “[many] who are part of the Stephenson House community wouldn't have been able to live on campus normally. And often the people selected … were leaders in the Vic communities. ey were heavily involved in enriching the lives of students on campus … there was concern that [the proposal] might create barriers for students to be as actively participating in the future.”

Ruttan described to e Strand some of the many ways the BoR silenced student voices. He explained that he “managed to make one point” at the meeting in April 2010, but the “chair prevented [him] from being able to speak again on the topic.” He also said that President Gooch was upset with him for emailing Board members about Stephenson House directly. Ruttan and Brown both expressed a concern for the lack of student consultation from the BoR on student issues. Leo Josephy, a past president of Stephenson House, expressed similar concerns about the BoR, saying “they could be very good at obfuscating the important details to you as students.”

Ruttan also told e Strand that in BoR meetings the chair would not record votes in opposition of motions, only asking for those in favour. Because of this practice, which is still being used today by the BoR, the students speci cally requested recorded ballots when voting on the future of Stephenson House. Despite the student e ort to oppose the proposal, the motion passed by one vote. e then residents of Stephenson House had to decide how to move forward. Josephy explained, “We decided, look, our rent is gonna go up, we're gonna have to be buying into a meal plan that we don't want

… and meals, communal meals were a huge part of Stephenson House.”

“We saw it very … di cult to continue [our] way [of] living,” continued Josephy. “ I… knew from the outset in my negotiations with Kelly [Castle] that [it] wouldn't work.

Without adequate support from the administration, the una ordability of the new Stephenson House, and the forced buy-in to the meal plan, Stephenson House died shortly after its move to RJ, and no such space exists now at Vic.

When re ecting on the end of Stephenson House, Brown told e Strand about the necessity of “special spaces in the community for di erent students. And a ordable housing, particularly in a city as expensive as Toronto is really important. What makes life rich at Vic is the students, the community … is really feeds into the bigger issue of encroachment on student space." Josephy re ected that, “I think the real thing that was missing in the transition of Stephenson House was a lack of appreciation for the human aspects of the problem.

resident, both identi ed two crucial reasons why they were able to be so involved: the a ordable cost and location of Stephenson House.

Today, students scramble to a ord residence and to nd alternative housing in Toronto. Many students have to undergo long commutes from more a ordable areas. When students do come to campus, there are now fewer spaces for them to eat, study, and participate in club and levy activities.

e decision by administrators to rid Vic of the Stephenson House community is only one instance in a long history of encroachment upon student spaces on campus. In 1960, Vic made a 99-year lease agreement for the Colonnade Building at Avenue Road and Bloor St. Furthermore, in 1997, Vic made another decadeslong lease agreement for the land on which the McKinsey Building sits at 110 Charles St., a project which came at the expense of the student gymnasium, the eld house, and part of the eld outside Margaret Addison Hall. Indeed, a 10-storey luxury hotel on Charles St. would likely exist today had students not pressured the Toronto City Council to block Vic administrators’ plans to develop the land with Huang & Danczkay in 1989. In each of these instances, spaces that were formerly for students were turned into revenue-producing properties for the University.

e lack of appreciation that if [they] raise … students rent, that they're not going to want to keep living there. e lack of appreciation that, hey, meals and sitting around a table are important … that actually there can be a real human element to building community … It was just a lack of appreciation of these human elements that without honouring them made it impossible to build a new community. And maybe that comes from a lack of trust from administration to students.”

e Board of Regents Handbook outlines the future of 63 Charles St. Although it is unclear how legitimate their plans are, the proposal says they plan for “the transformation of [63-65 Charles] from underperforming assets with a few o ces into a revenue-generating building.” It is hard to imagine how a student space, vibrant with cooperation, student involvement, and love could have been seen as an underperforming asset. e BoR’s attitude highlights the lack of value the administration gives to student spaces.

On a campus that is now struggling to nd students to ll leadership positions, we need to examine any and all potential methods of convincing Vic students to do more than attend classes and go home. Stephenson House bolstered student involvement. Almost everybody who lived in the Stephenson House had at least one leadership position and participated in multiple extracurricular activities.

Josephy and Andrew McEwan, another 2009-2010

Further, the decision to kill Stephenson House is demonstrative of a broader historical inclination among Victoria University administrators to make transformative decisions without consulting the student body. Members of the BoR are principally concerned with Vic’s revenue. ey do not listen to students’ expressions of their experiences on campus. e BoR’s persistent refusal to communicate with students perpetuates the misunderstandings they and students have of each other. Furthermore, the Board’s lack of transparency with students prevents them from gaining access to information about the institution they choose to fund through Vic fees. If students don’t understand what the BoR is, they will not run for elections for roles in it, and the lack of candidates in recent years demonstrates this. Rather than consulting with students, the BOR ignores them and makes decisions that are detrimental to Vic’s reputation, and in the long run, its nances. e BoR’s behaviour towards its students directly contradicts its duciary duty to the school.

Just as generations of students did at Stephenson House dinners, the Board of Regents and Victoria University administrators must invite students to the table. Before deciding on important issues, such as the fate of entire student spaces, members of the Board must put themselves in students’ shoes. ey must make an e ort to understand, internalise, and apply what students think.

When e Strand reached out to Victoria University for comment on the end of Stephenson House, Sally Szuster, Director of Communications for the O ce of the President, responded that “President Rhonda McEwen has articulated that one of her leadership priorities is securing a ordable housing opportunities for students and this work is ongoing.” Stephenson House no longer exists as it once did, but a ordable housing must continue to be a priority for Vic. e fact that a ordable housing options are no longer available for Vic students is a loss for the University. If a ordability was truly a priority for Vic administrators, there would be no debating, no shutting doors, and no “con dentiality”—there would simply be a ordable housing.

"Stephenson House not only provided student housing, but it also created a hub on Vic’s campus for students who were highly involved."

The medicalisation of disability

The neurodiversity paradigm challenges traditional views of autism and other conditions

MAX LEES CO-NEWS EDITOR

In recent years, the concept of neurodiversity has challenged traditional medical views on neurodevelopmental disorders such as autism spectrum disorder (ASD) and attention de cit hyperactivity disorder (ADHD). Although the movement has gained more attention recently, the term was rst coined by Judy Singer in 1998. Neurodiversity refers to both a paradigm and a movement. e neurodiversity paradigm—in contrast to the medical paradigm—is a philosophical perspective, while the movement is a social push towards acceptance and accommodation. e neurodiversity movement includes many conditions, such as epilepsy and Tourette syndrome, and ts into a wider movement for disability rights, but it is most often applied in relation to autism, where there is still signi cant debate surrounding how we should de ne, approach, and treat the condition.

e neurodiversity movement is largely headed by researchers who are neurodivergent themselves. One prominent gure is Nick Walker who, in her blog titled Neuroqueer (previously known as Neurocosmopolitanism), describes neurodiversity as a biological fact, referring to the diversity of human minds. e term ‘neurodivergent’ describes a person whose mind functions atypically, while ‘neurotypical’ refers to those who are not neurodivergent. She de nes the neurodiversity paradigm separately with the following core principles:

1) Neurodiversity is a natural and valuable form of diversity;

2) e idea of one 'correct' kind of cognitive functioning is socially constructed; and 3) e social dynamics surrounding neurodiversity are similar to those of other types of human diversity. For many, this paradigm helps people understand themselves better and works towards eradicating social stigma surrounding neurodivergence. Autistic people are also statistically more likely to identify as LGBTQ+, and as a result, the two movements sometimes overlap, with advocates proudly embracing both parts of their identities.

In contrast, the medical paradigm is the framing of autism and other conditions as disorders, and labelling autistic traits as symptoms that should be corrected. Defenders of this paradigm point out that some autistic traits make life and social bonding more di cult. However, many autistic traits that are viewed as abnormal, such as stimming (repetitive movements) or avoiding eye contact, don’t actually harm the autistic person and are di cult, if not impossible to ‘ x.’ Instead, people often learn to mask neurodivergent traits to seem more ‘normal’ to neurotypical people. As part of the neurodiversity movement, many are moving towards

‘unmasking’: allowing neurodivergent traits to show instead of trying to act neurotypical.

e core question underlying this paradigm shift lies in whether or not autism, and other conditions that fall under neurodiversity, can, or should, be cured. Not only is there so much variety in autism spectrum disorders that most experts agree there is no single cure or across-the-board treatment, but many self-advocating autistic people point out that trying to cure autism is similar in spirit to gay conversion therapy. Similarly, the desire to nd a cure carries the assumption that being autistic is fundamentally wrong, rather than a form of diversity. Some people, especially parents of autistic children with behavioural challenges, believe that nding a cure is worthwhile because autism can present a lot of challenges. However, from the neurodiversity standpoint, it is possible to acknowledge the challenges without nding a cure; autism is part of who a person is, and many would argue that treatment e orts should focus on accommodating and managing struggles that come with it, rather than trying to eliminate the autism.

While the language of neurodiversity is becoming more widespread, the research community is somewhat divided. At UofT, there is a variety of autism research across disciplines, with social sciences and humanities researchers looking at the social framing of disability, while molecular biologists and data scientists look at possible causes. For example, the Centre for Global Disability Studies (CGDS) at UofT Scarborough brings together students and researchers “conducting anti-ableist, intersectional, and interdisciplinary social science and humanities disability studies research from across all three UofT campuses.” UofT associate professor Susan Antebi studies perceptions of disability and di erence, with a focus on post-revolutionary Mexico. Others focus on social aspects of autism speci cally: Dr. Meng-Chuan Lai studies underdiagnosis in girls due to stereotypes, while Denver Brown co-authored a study on parental support and physical activity levels in autistic children.

Meanwhile, UofT molecular geneticist professor Benjamin Blencowe and other researchers have made several advances in investigating a mechanism underlying autism. ey found that a particular microexon, which is a protein important for normal brain development, was misregulated in autistic brains, and that decreasing this protein in mice induced autistic-like social behaviours. ey also found a network of genes related to this protein. Notably, this kind of breakthrough is rare in autism research; it is usually very di cult to nd unifying factors that might lead to autism, yet this microexon seems to be lacking in a large number

of autistic patients. However, the behaviours described as ‘autistic-like’ in mice may not be representative of autism in humans; this criticism regarding generalisation is common for animal studies. Nonetheless, understanding common mechanisms underlying autism could lead to a better understanding of the condition more generally.

Lastly, UofT researcher Stephen Scherer, as part of MSSNG, the world’s largest autism genomics project, “identi ed 18 new genes that increase risk for the condition” in 2017. MSSNG is a collaboration between Verily, DNAstack, SickKids, and Autism Speaks—the latter being an organisation which has been heavily criticised by the autistic community, despite its purported aim of helping autistic people. e genomics project is one example of research where the purpose is unclear; on the one hand, identifying a biological basis for the condition may lead to “better diagnostics, as well as personalised and more accurate treatments,” as the project’s webpage states. On the other hand, identifying genetic causes may raise concerns about interventions akin to eugenics. Currently, the project focuses on identifying potential subcategories of autism, creating a large database accessible to many researchers by using open consent, and providing information to families.

Importantly, there seems to be a lack of conversation between each of these domains. Social scientists study perceptions of disability, molecular biologists investigate potential mechanisms, and data scientists look for a genetic footprint using data from many individuals, but surely a complete understanding of autism would require an integrated account of these elds. Additionally, research led by neurodivergent individuals may bring a crucial perspective to the table. For example, a study led by Catherine Crompton shows that autistic peer-to-peer communication is highly e ective; in other words, autistic people often only struggle to communicate with neurotypicals. is challenges the idea that autism causes ‘de cits’ in communication. With enough integration between elds and the inclusion of neurodivergent perspectives, the current shift away from medicalisation and towards a model of diversity and accommodation may help to combat social stigma while continuing to advance scienti c understanding of autism, disability, and human neurodiversity.

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

Stories @ Vic: All for wellness

e start of the term is well underway, but it’s never too late to pick up a new hobby. Victoria College’s knitting club, cleverly named CommunKNITy, is providing students with an opportunity to break free from the stress of upcoming deadlines. According to the VUSAC club website, the group aims to “bring students together and foster connection through knitting, crocheting, and other yarn crafts.” I was privileged to speak to Faith Wershba, Stranded Editor and founder of CommunKNITy. Faith was inspired to start this club after learning to knit from her sister in winter 2022. She found solace in the project and decided to start the club, which aims to “foster an inclusive and collaborative environment where members can learn from each other.” She believes that “ nding community through this shared practice motivated [her] to create a space where people interested in bre arts and mental wellness could come together and form new friendships.”

Your club description says that you aim to "provide a safe space to decompress, connect, and unwind." Why do you think that these are vital for a student's mental health?

As students living in a high-energy city, many of our days

Rise and Grind!

SAKURA ARMSTRONG EDITORIAL ASSISTANT

Some of my most peaceful memories are of mornings. Slowly waking up to what feels like a scene pulled straight from a Disney movie. e mornings where I’m nestled between blankets and listening to the trills of birds that have been arguing outside my window since the sunrise ease me awake in a way that the jolt of an alarm clock never could.

For me, the sacredness of mornings has never been con ned to routine, but the older I grow, the heavier the expectation of productivity only gets heavier, and it seems that a strict morning routine has become a hallmark for success. A quick search on virtually any major social media platform of “morning routine” will take you to thousands of suggestions from in uencers who wake up at the crack of dawn. Although I’ve always found the videos of people showing their mornings interesting and even aspirational, I could never seriously imagine myself partaking in such a rigorous routine. One routine in particular, however, has always caught my eye: e Billionaire Morning Routine. It’s a routine that manifests success in the name, by staking claim on the early hours of the morning that are normally slept through and rebranding them as missed opportunities for productivity.

I’ve always been a little sceptical of morning routines jam-packed with a list of things to get done. In my eyes, the early “rise-and-grind” mindset is a byproduct of hustle culture telling us that, once again, we should be doing more and more with our time. However, these routines many of the world’s most wealthy say it is integral to their day to day lives. CEO of Apple, Tim Cook, supposedly likes to wake up at 3:45 am to check his emails before his colleagues. Starbucks founder Howard Shultz apparently wakes up at 4:30 in the

are dominated by activities that require intense focus and attention. It can become exhausting if our brains don't receive other forms of lower-intensity stimulation. [Knitting] provides just enough stimulation to help me distract, while allowing me to slow down and process my thoughts and feelings. is sort of decompression is necessary for me to recharge and maintain a sense of wellbeing.

Do you consider knitting an art form?

For me, the practice of knitting is what I nd most meaningful, rather than the product that emerges. Insofar as art is about the process of creation, I would say that knitting is absolutely an art form. It is a way to channel your creative energy into something tangible, to simultaneously focus your attention and unplug.

When and where does your group meet?

We meet every ursday at 5pm in the Wymilwood Lounge of the Goldring Student Centre! You can nd us on Instagram @vic.commuknity and follow our partner club @UTknits!

ere you have it, folks: CommuKNITy has you covered! Try something fun this semester and pick up a pair of knitting needles, or just drop by and start a conversation. You never know where a new experience might lead.

morning. is knowledge then raises the question: Do these routines work for normal people? And more importantly, is there something I’m missing about the greatness of waking up that early?

bene cial if it sacri ced sleep to do so. Salas emphasised the importance of consistent routine and amount of sleep, and that the positives of waking up early are diminished if you are not getting enough. It also seems that much of what controls our circadian rhythms is genetic, with 351 genetic factors a ecting how we sleep. However, those factors shift over time with more people becoming earlier risers the older they grow.

For the sake of research, I decided to ght my nightowl genetics and get up around 6:30 am for several days. To avoid my roommate hating me for life (and for the sake of my own sanity), I decided to not awaken any earlier. e best method I found to stay awake was to shower straight away, then read or do homework. I wanted to go to the gym but the freezing morning air was far too demotivating for me—but I'd nd myself going later in the day. I would then journal or read the news like several billionaire routines recommended, and make a list of things to get done that day. Once, I tried to meditate, but to be honest, I immediately fell back asleep.

Researchers and health professionals also seem to be divided on the topic. A study published in 2021 by JAMA Psychiatry found that people of European ancestry who are genetically predisposed to waking up earlier than the average person are at less risk for depression. A smaller study then found that people who shifted their wake up times to be earlier had improvements in their depression, but noted that a larger study would need to be done to determine if the results were signi cant. Associate professor of neurology and sleep studies at John Hopkins University, Rachel Salas, told BBC that waking up early would not be

e results of this routine weren't that surprising to me at all. Even though I got a lot more done in the mornings, I got a lot less done later at night. In the end, I was still doing the same number of things, just at di erent times. I do feel that maybe some more consistency in doing this routine over the course of several months could alter my perspective. I think this routine would be a lot more e ective for me in the summertime when I could witness the sunrise or blue skies. Waking up early this time of year felt like getting up in the middle of the night to just watch the sky slowly turn from black to a bleak grey. For the time being, I think I’ll continue my unproductive mornings and accept that maybe, I’m simply just not meant to be a billionaire.

Why knitting (or any type of extra-curricular) is essential for a student’s well being

Is waking up early the key to success? Our EA Sakura puts it to the test

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

Conversations with yourself

On a fateful day during the summer of 2018, I stood in the stationary aisle of my local Dollarama and picked out a pink journal with the words “ ink, Write, Draw, Repeat” written on the cover in gold print. Today, that journal is lled with pages of handwritten rants and to-do lists, stickers and song lyrics, tear-stained pages, and multicoloured gel ink. e spine is completely broken and the cover is fraying at the edges, but this $1.25 notebook is probably my most prized possession. ere’s something so comforting about writing your deepest, innermost thoughts down in a special little notebook, so that they have a place to exist outside of your brain. It gives you the opportunity to connect with yourself on a fundamental level, allows you to document precious moments, tangibly represents how far you’ve come, and in my opinion, is one of the most important forms of self-care.

e most rewarding thing about keeping a journal is the fact that you’re essentially writing a series of letters for your future self. ere’s this inherent sense of pride (and inevitably, a little bit of cringe) that comes with reading old entries and realising how far you’ve come; it’s a tangible representation of all the growth you’ve experienced throughout your life. For example, this is what the very rst page of my diary looks like:

“I don’t wanna call this a diary because that brings images of notebooks with u y pink covers and girls giggling at sleepovers. No. is is a narrative of my thoughts and how they relate to events in my day.” —July 8, 2018

Can you tell I was heavily in uenced by Diary of a Wimpy Kid as a child? Re-reading that entry is di cult for me because oh my God the cringe, but it makes me happy to know that the 13-year-old girl that wrote that has grown out of her “I’m not like other girls” phase. Today, writing in a u y pink notebook and giggling with my friends at a sleepover sounds like heaven. At that age, I was under the impression that being feminine and serious were mutually exclusive. I’ve come to realise that this is not the case (thank you, Legally Blonde). ese changes happen imperceptibly, which is why having a journal that tracks them can be an e ective indicator of growth. I didn’t magically wake up one day and say, “I am like other girls,” but I did get there eventually.

e key to practising self-care, growing as a person, and coping with stresses and traumas really boils down to the conversations that you have with yourself. Of course, there’s always going to be a sense of resistance that comes with being so vulnerable on paper. Often, that resistance manifests itself as laziness and procrastination (selfcallout?).

Based on my personal experience, here are a few tips that might help you pick that pen up:

1. Don’t force it. ere’s no need to give yourself a rigid schedule for when you’re supposed to journal. It’s supposed to be fun and cathartic, not a stressful deadline.

2. Bribe yourself. Buy a really pretty journal and keep it somewhere that makes it visible to you, like by your bedside or on your desk—don’t just toss it in a drawer or on a shelf.

3. Skip the rst page or two. I’ve found that when you’re writing in a brand-new journal, there’s a lot of internal pressure to make sure that the rst page is perfect. By skipping it entirely, you take that pressure o and let yourself breathe.

4. Use your notes app. If the thought of taking out a physical notebook and writing in it feels like a chore, open your notes app and type in an entry instead. Besides, the option to password-protect notes can really come in handy in this situation.

5. Do it for the aesthetic. If nothing else, put on some indie girl music and sit on your bedroom oor with your journal like the tortured artist you are. Go to a park or a library and be that mysterious person lurking in the shadows, writing scandalous secrets in their diary.

If there’s any part of you that wishes your younger self would’ve kept a journal that you could read in bittersweet reminiscence today, know that your future self would thank you if you started right now. In a world where so much of our lives is dedicated to performance for the bene t of others, keeping a journal is private and blissful (unless you decide to publish excerpts of it in a newspaper). It’s not going to solve all of your problems, but it will give you a place to deposit all your deepest fears and niche celebrity crushes, as well as the space and time needed to revisit those thoughts with a fresh perspective.

VAANYA HASSAN CONTRIBUTOR

Why journaling is the ultimate form of self-care

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

The untold truth of TikTok beauty trends

ILLUSTRATION | SHELLEY YAO

GIRIDARAN

Kayli Boyle is a social media hair queen. A growing creator with over one million combined followers on the holy trifecta of social media: TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube. She posts weekly on achieving trendy hair, makeup, and nail looks. At the end of her ‘get ready with me’ videos, her hair is always styled with loose bouncy curls and u y voluminous layers framing her face. In other words, the ideal 90s blowout rivalling that of Cher from Clueless, Topanga of Boy Meets World or new-to-fame Swedish designer and Pinterest darling Matilda Djerf.

What’s her secret? Well, watching her how-to content, it’s clear that chief among few is hair oil… and lots of it. Rosemary for the roots, oil for the middle and ends, as well as drops of it daily after washing to keep your hair smooth throughout the week. ese videos have gained traction as other viewers comment and duet with their own results in trying out oiling. One TikTok duet, though, stands out among the fray. “I could never, my hair would hate me if I did that,” reacted one girl, “I would be so scared to do that.”

is response—one of utter shock, disbelief, even fear—to hair oiling is not unique to this video or creator. e practice has been common among women of colour for millenia. In India, speci cally, the tradition traces back over 5000 years. Moreover, women of colour have been marginalised for the practice in Western society for a long time. In 2016, the very practice of hair oiling led a Black mom from Chicago to receive a note from her daughter’s teacher asking her to “apply … lightly” because “children were complaining that her hair ‘stinks.’” e notion of di erence—how non-white beauty practices such as hair oiling function on bodies of colour—has led to the Western world to view those practices as taboo or unsanitary and to dismiss the people sporting them as unclean.

In late August of last year, model Hailey Bieber posted a TikTok of herself posing before a mirror. “Ready for all the fall things including brownie glazed lips,” she captioned it. Promptly, the internet freaked out. A writer from Allure gushed over how “the lips [were] so shiny they could almost be a mirror,” before highlighting products for readers to recreate the look, which complexly consisted of brown liner and lip gloss. In response, many Black and South Asian creators criticised how Bieber was heralded as an innovator of beauty trends. Staples of her present aesthetic—slicked back hair, ‘brownie’ lips, gold hoops and necklaces—have been worn by those in the Black and Latina community for a long time. However, on these women, the look has historically been stigmatised. A 2019 Time magazine article about New York congresswoman Alexandria Ocasio Cortez’s ‘unlikely rise’ captures this struggle, inserting that, “Ocasio-Cortez has told friends she learned early on that wearing hoop earrings and nameplate necklaces was ne in the Bronx, but she wouldn’t be taken seriously if she wore them to a job interview.” is look which people on TikTok dub as “slick and shiny”today, is trending as part of the larger ‘clean girl aesthetic.’ is ‘model o duty’ trend, as it is widely known on TikTok, promotes the style creators who resemble Bieber. at is, predominantly white, thin, and able-bodied women. Where wider society views these beauty practices on bodies of colour as ‘unclean’ or a reason to not be taken seriously, on white bodies, it is seen as innovative or trendy. e clean girl aesthetic is yet another beauty aesthetic that is glamorised without regard for the original communities behind the aesthetic and their experiences of marginalisation as a result of it.

As discussion of at-home self-care has grown more prominent in recent years, so too has buzz around a new favourite celebrity skincare tool: the Gua Sha. Praised by those such as Gwyneth Paltrow, Elle Macpherson, and even Justin Bieber, the tool quickly gained traction across all sorts of internet platforms. Many in uencers quickly conceptualised it as a natural facelift or non-Western

botox. In actuality, the Gua Sha is a at crystal stone with rounded edges used for facial massage practice in ancient Chinese medicine. e name itself is a reference to “scraping” away “redness” by gently moving the edge of the tool in upward strokes across the face. Like hair oiling, use of the Gua Sha traces back thousands of years to the rst millennia, to alleviate pain, fevers, and other illnesses. While the technique has many positive health bene ts, one Gua Sha practitioner was quoted in NPR as criticising how some celebrities’ claims about the practice are simply untrue. “ e whitewashing of Gua Sha is leading to the distortion of the practice. And this harms its credibility as a legitimate form of healing,” she explained. e co-option of the Gua Sha is an example of how cultural beauty practices steeped in rich history can be misappropriated by white celebrities. In the case of the Gua Sha, this trend-setting is fundamentally harmful as it disconnects practices from their roots, which jeopardises its e cacy and undermines its integrity as a practice based in Chinese medicine.

Times change and so do aesthetics. ere is a tendency on social media platforms, especially on TikTok, to move through practices facilitating these looks rather rapidly. Hailey Bieber wore ‘doughnut lips,’ used a Gua Sha for smooth skin and rosemary oil for hair growth.’ Seen, bought, tried, and moved on. However, many of today’s trends are not just a fun Sunday night ‘hack’ to try and toss out. Beauty practices—like hair oiling, donut lips, or the use of the Gua Sha—have deep-rooted cultural signi cance and history. ey may have gained traction on the body of a popular white gure, but they were worn and used by communities of colour rst, even if they were dismissed when they rst did it.

Where do popular wellness aesthetics actually come from?

ASHNIRI

CONTRIBUTOR

bittersweet candies

DEVARYA SINGHANIA CONTRIBUTOR

there were pit stops which reminded me of a time to escape from the monstrosity of Raman ’s futile attacks on the imperfect curvature transcending above my belly, as the few speared marks made their appearance; it’s a circus of my misery translated into fifteen languages by each member in my class as the four soldiers by my side fought for its censorship, knowing all the while that even the few prickly visible lines will tell a tale of fright, of a gore unable to be scripted in the burning pages of the novels for Raman has authored a comment— which appears not miniscule anymore. mirrors, once a friend now bitter foe echo the sentiments of dear Raman , an affair they began beyond the gaze of my comprehension as their loyalty shriveled up into a cowardly confetti layered with repeated assaults of comments so endearingly similar. the pit stops landed in candy shops, a place i could call mine. the dusty glitter of a scattered assortment of silver freckles over gummies—accompanied with the caramel gentlemen oozing with a delicacy i could devour for days; mine.

Raman was invasive too. for a forgetful moment he extracted these innocents, misled them and we fought. for a forgetful moment, i couldn’t call them mine. i still pay these gentlemen a visit, even though i’ve now grown up, and they find residence in old age homes. hoping to revive the yearning i once had for these pit stops I befriend the mirror.

| JENNIFER FONGLI

1. Talk to a friend. Sometimes all you need is a little support from a loved one to get some perspective. A good friend can remind you of their unconditional love for you. ey can tell you to ‘cheer up’ and ‘stop being sad.’ And you’ll feel less alone when they share their own, much worse problems that, frankly, you can’t hold a candle to. Besides, who are you to complain when they’re going through so much?

2. Get some exercise. is is a good one. Go for a walk and feel the winter air biting at your cheeks and take some time to appreciate the beauty of our campus. Or, hit the gym. No better distraction from mental pain than physical pain, and intense physical activity can release endorphins. Don’t worry, no one will look at your terrible form or your weird, lumpy body.

3. Talk to a stranger you just met. No friends? No problem! Chat up the guy next to you in your tutorial section. After a couple of minutes talking about your majors or whatever, it’s time to drop the bomb on just how mentally ill you are. Tell them about the sources of your trauma, how you don’t always brush your teeth in the morning, and anything else on your mind! Believe me, the baggage is easier to carry once you’ve dumped some of it on someone else.

4. Major in psychology. Not being able to a ord a psychologist doesn’t have to mean missing out on their expertise! Maybe if you learn enough clinical psychology, you’ll be able to diagnose yourself. Are you compartmentalising? Do you have a hormone imbalance? Only one way to nd out! From there, it’s just a matter of curing yourself. I’m pretty sure

people who know psychology can do that.

5. Act like you’re very vulnerable and engaged with your emotions, but really you’re just analysing them as a way of avoiding feeling them. All that time spent inside your own head combined with all the psychology readings you’ve done will inevitably lead to an uncanny ability to recognise why you feel the way you feel. Why not explore that? You’ll be so busy thinking, there’ll be no room for emotions!

6. Meditate. Because if you have all your darkest feelings locked up in your head, inaccessible to you after years of avoiding them, then all you need is a recording of a soothing voice to teach you how to open them up.

7. Try to actually express your emotions by crying or screaming or something like that, but the entire time you feel as if you’re making yourself cry/scream and so you’re not sure if this even counts as feeling them, because really you’re kind of watching yourself as this happens and you don’t know how to be present with your feelings anymore. is is one of my personal favourites! #justdissociationthings

8. Self-medicate. You know what’s wrong with you, don’t you? Take matters into your own hands and contact a chemistry specialist or a computer science student to hook you up with some antidepressants, stimulants, psilocybin (you read this very cool study about magic mushrooms and now you’re hooked on the idea), or whatever it is you know you need, without having to bother with the middleman of a psychiatrist or doctor.* Goodness knows it would take months and thousands of dollars to get a prescription.

9. Take a self-care day. A fun movie, face mask, smoothie, nap, yoga routine, something will surely be the answer. Keep looking. It’s out there.

10. Contact UofT Health and Wellness for their mental health clinical services, provided at no additional cost to all UofT students! Ah, sorry, you’ll have to come back in four months; your situation isn’t urgent enough yet, and we’re somewhat short-sta ed. But we could connect you with private counselling starting at only, say, $200 per week?

* e Strand does not endorse this idea

I was reading BuzzFeed News, as I always frequent extremely reliable news sources. It said that ‘an apple a day keeps the doctor away.’ I was sceptical at rst, but I decided to try it out.”

e man’s wife, Jane LastName, reported that after taking one singular bite of a Red Delicious apple, the man had keeled over, clutching his chest and falling to his knees on the kitchen oor.

TORONTO - Doctors hate him! Local man exposes an INSANE secret about health and immortality! Read until the end of the article… what you nd out may SHOCK you!

“I’ve never eaten an apple before,” said local Toronto man, John LastName, who is de nitely not fake or made up. “But then I saw an ad while

“I thought he was having a heart attack,” Jane said. “High blood pressure runs in his family. He had also been rewatching Glee recently, so admittedly, I waited a few minutes before calling an ambulance because I thought he was exhibiting typical theatre kid dramatics.”

After bringing him to Toronto General Hospital, doctors reported that John had actually experienced the opposite of a heart attack. His blood pressure problems had reportedly disappeared into thin air. Additionally, he has appeared to age backwards by 20 years and is being scouted by the

Canadian Olympic weightlifting committee due to a remarkable increase in strength. Although not con rmed, John may be immortal and is reportedly now able to walk on water.

Upon hearing this news, John’s doctor, Dr. Doctor, broke down into hysterics.

“I was dumbfounded,” Dr. Doctor said. “I actually stood up and put my hands on my face like that kid from Home Alone. What if all my patients nd out about this? How will I pay o my medical school debt now in this economy? Damn you, you crunchy, circular, ruby red fruit!”

At press time, Dr. Doctor was found murderously cutting up an apple in the hospital break room, though it was unclear whether it was due to his grievances against the produce or if he was simply enjoying a few fruit slices with a side of peanut butter.

AUDREY LAI STAFF WRITER

10 ways to take care of your mental health without shelling out $255 per week for the therapy you desperately need

Isn’t there something so comforting about The Shining?

Move over rom-coms, horror movies are the new comfort movies.

went wrong ages ago. e ctional towns and cities built up in classic horror lms take my breath away (literally). Who’s with me for a trip to Camp Crystal Lake to test out our main character syndrome?? But seriously, one good thing about world-building is that the less you explain to your viewers, the more chilling an e ect you create. (Work smarter, not harder.) ere’s a special place for this craft in my heart.

Free erapy

I was rewatching Insidious a few nights ago when, while stu ng my face with popcorn, I suddenly had a life-changing revelation: horror movies are the new—and dare I say, better—genre of comfort movies. What’s more comforting than watching Mr. Darcy confess his undying love for Elizabeth, you ask? It’s watching the members of the Losers Club defeat Pennywise in the nal battle of IT Chapter Two. Obviously.

Buckle up and hold on tight, because we’re going to explore a whole new world where creepy is comfort. Here’s a list of reasons presented by a horror movie connoisseur (i.e. me) on why you should opt for e Shining instead of 10 ings I Hate About You for your next chick- ick night.

Quick and easy guide to unlock your Main Character Syndrome

Okay, listen: have you ever seen how cocky the main characters are in horror lms? ey act like they can do anything, like nothing scares them, and like they are uniquely equipped to save the entire world. ey aren’t scared of the dark or the monsters under their beds. In my books, that’s a big SLAY. It is a truth universally acknowledged that by observing these characters and their mannerisms, you can become like them too! (Don’t fact check me on this.) Be the main character of your life while pretending to be the main character of a Wes Craven lm.

e Insane World-Building

I know, I know—movie bu s will complain that fantasy or sci- movies do world-building better, but I disagree. Nothing gives me more satisfaction than learning about a town that has been haunted by demons for years or seeing how a lab experiment

PODCAST: The Guestlist

The fitness episode

Welcome back to e Guestlist! I’m your host, and today I’m delighted to welcome Mr. Guru Fitness on the pod for an interview on all things ~health and wellness~. Without further ado, gather up your snacks and pop in your earphones. Hi, Guru!

Guru: Hi. While I appreciate the gesture of comforting your audience, I’d advise against the snacks and drinks. Snacking isn’t really a habit that I endorse.

Me: Uhhh, okay… Let’s just get started with the questions. We all know your commitment to tness is immaculate. What’s helped you stay this—

Well, yeah, I’m pretty built and I think I’ve been like this for three proper years. I was lean before,

still strong, but I’ve really upped my game since then. I replaced beer with tequila, and I don’t think I’ve had chips, pizza, or chicken tenders in eight months. Pretty remarkable, I’d say.

Wow, that sounds… miserable… But since you mentioned alcohol, I feel compelled to ask: do you smoke?

I vape, dude. To be honest, I only ever smoke when I drink, even though it’s a bit of a cliché. It’s just the way we jacked people live. How much do you bench?

Um, me? I use dumbbells, so—

Fuck you man. Dumbbells? Pal, I do like 175 on the bar for warm up. Pathetic. How do you expect to stay t if you don’t put in the e ort?

I mean, I’m trying to nd time to go to the gym, but it’s kind of a hectic commute, and my

Hear me out on this one!! Do you ever watch a horror lm and feel thankful that you’re not in their shoes trying to run away from demonic spirits? You become humbler because, for some unknown reason, you are still safe from being decapitated. To me, it’s very therapeutic to watch someone su er while I make fun of them for their stupid decisions (I’m not a sadist, I promise). It can get a little draining to scream at your TV while the protagonist plans a dumb move that will sabotage their entire save-the-world mission, but at the end of the day, they su er the consequences while I sleep peacefully in my own bed. Nothing makes me feel better than knowing that even I am not dumb enough to go into a creepy basement or follow terrifying voices emanating from places I shouldn’t be in.

Quick confession: I also believe that the soundtracks of horror lms are soothing in their own twisted ways. Gives you the perfect amount of an adrenaline rush. Delightful.

Now that you’ve made your way down the list, I hope you plan on watching Sinister instead of Mamma Mia! at your next movie night!

schedule’s a bit tight.

See, this is the problem with you young folks. Y’all want to be built like me, but you can’t even give two hours to the gym. And when you do, you bench with dumbbells? Disgusting. How much protein you eat, bro? Do you even count macros? Do you— *silence*

Well, it seems we’ve gotten disconnected. Ah, what a shame. Anyway, that’s all for this episode of e Guestlist! anks for tuning in!

ISHA RIZWAN SOCIAL MEDIA MANAGER

DEVARYA SINGHANIA CONTRIBUTOR

PHOTO | WARNER BROS/HAWK FILMS/KOBAL/SHUTTERSTOCK

PHOTO | SHUTTERSTOCK