June 27, 2023

EDITORIAL BUSINESS

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Home is a quantum superposition

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The Ubyssey is the official student newspaper of the University of British Columbia (UBC).

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Alan Phuong Contributor

I always believed I was someone whose life was in constant motion — at least that’s what I believed when I left Vancouver in May of last year.

And yet, seeing the familiar Vancouver grid come into view from above, I discovered a discomforting warmth arising with my arrival “home.”

Perhaps my desire to explore some darkish mix of travelgram comes from a naive and foolish belief in clean slates, and ideals of travel as aspirational. But really, I credit my parents.

My parents — like so many who’ve settled here — came in search of greener grass, stability and an easier life for me and my sisters. By all accounts and measures, they succeeded.

challenged by the fuzzy notion of “home.” On the streets, I heard the textural mosaic of languages I had almost forgotten were a fixture back home. Being witness to the global flurry of activity there mirrored a similar but miniature version I had unknowingly been a part of in Prince Rupert, my hometown. A nostalgia that I had never been aware of.

That week in London passed so quickly, but the kaleidoscope of culture there left a lot for me to toil over.

As I paused in Vancouver, I restarted my old routines in a brief process of re-localization. With under 10 days before I left for the second leg of my trip, I checked in with my mom.

“I left my home to come all the way here. And now you’re the one who’s leaving your home. 哎呀.”

conceived idea I’d spun — like many others over the span of those eight months — was dismantled.

In its place, I found a much messier, less clearly delineated something to the notion of “home.” Much less of a quantitative anything and more of a feeling. Home is a quantum superposition.

Writing from Vancouver, what has stayed with me are the handful of gemstone conversations I had with others about identity and home. Each stone helped me piece together the self-construction of my identity.

A walk through Brussels discussing what it means to be Queer and Asian and Canadian.

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The constant comfort and stability I had growing up made me believe life would always be so, and that this would hold true while travelling West. When I excitedly made the decision to leave my childhood home in April last year, my mother tentatively approved. In hindsight, there was a moment of hesitation before she let me go, her tacit perception of my naivete perhaps. But, any hesitation she held was papered over for the opportunity of experience.

The iridescent adrenaline of those first few weeks abroad — juggling work, commitments to newly made friends and trying to plan trips-within-a-trip — soon dimmed into the glaring realization that life in Europe was different.

At work, I realized that the cultural dynamics I was familiar with and the things I took for granted back home were (surprise!) not the same. The culture, while beautiful and rich, was not my own. The background hum of the communities which grounded my identity dissipated into white noise as their roots didn’t extend out this far.

Three months passed. The lessons learned, memories gained and the sights seen were all so worthwhile, but I returned home.

In August, I had an extended layover in London, a city I had wanted to check off my bucket list.

Unexpectedly, I was immediately

Those 10 days flew by and I was boarding the plane. Almost immediately I was embraced by Mandarin. Equipped with the (mostly forgotten) knowledge of a third-year non-heritage Mandarin Chinese class, I mentally prepared for the linguistic environment of my next three months. “

你想吃西式早餐还是中式早

餐 ?”

Would you like the Western or Chinese breakfast?

Shit.

As soon as I clumsily replied, my broken Chinese made it known I was non-local. Like many children of immigrants understand, the awkward superposition of appearing local whilst not speaking to a fluent enough degree, once measured, reveals you to be of somewhere else.

The three months in Taiwan followed an arc I was much less surprised by this time around. That first month and a half was pure energy. Darting around on a bike, riding the MRT and long-distance rail. Only this time round, sprinkle in some language snafus. Then, as novelty faded into normalcy, and my time away from “home” was quickly coming to an end, I began to reflect.

While I felt much less othered in this environment than I did before, I learned of new dynamics there that I was not too fond of.

I had expected that my time East would connect me to a heritage I should have a claim to. That this would feel like “home.” But that pre-

CORRECTION

An evening park bench talk in Taipei about having Asian heritage whilst growing up outside of Asia. “Home is where you’re local,” a French-Canadian with a globe-trotting childhood told me.

I came to read my own life in its full context: the cultural imprint from my family; the support and strength of my network of friends; the takeaways from conversations with people — both from those still active in my life and others who have branched off into their own paths. The abstract swirl of the above and more is part of what grounds me.

In the last few weeks before returning home, I was on a weekly check-in FaceTime with my parents. I remember feeling burnt out from the course workload. My dad had just passed the phone to my mom and I remarked that learning Chinese was hard. The never-ending homework — the grammar fluency I desired always just out of reach.

After listening, she plainly said, “Yes, learning English was hard for me too.”

Her comment created a tether through which I felt just a bit of what my mom had felt all those years ago when she first settled here. I saw that my search for identity through language roughly mirrored her struggle then.

For now, I feel at home back in Vancouver. But the truth is, “home” shifts and moves with us.

And while I’m not there yet, I’m becoming settled with the mildly discomforting understanding that “home” will not forever be where it is now. U

The Ubyssey periodically receives grants from the Government of Canada to fund web development and summer editorial positions.

“Home”

A May 30 print story about UBC’s Asian Canadian and Asian Migration Studies program misstated that 23,000 Japanese Canadians were interned, instead of 22,000. The Ubyssey regrets this error.

International students no longer eligible for Trek Excellence Scholarship

Khushi Patil Contributor

Starting this fall, international students will no longer be able to receive the Trek Excellence Scholarship, which was previously available to all students at UBC.

The Trek Excellence Scholarship is a merit-based scholarship for continuing students in the top five to ten per cent of their undergraduate year, faculty and school. The award for international students ranged from $1,000–4,000 and was automatically applied to the recipient’s student account.

An update on UBC’s awards, scholarships and bursaries website said the Trek Excellence Scholarship will now only be available to Canadian citizens or permanent residents in the top five per cent of their undergraduate year, faculty or school.

The Trek Excellence Scholarship was one of the only automatic awards available to continuing international students, while most other awards, scholarships and programs for international students are application-based.

In a written statement to The Ubyssey, Stuart Floyd, director of international recruitment, scholarships and awards, said his office made the decision in 2019, but it was “put on hold” due to

AT A STANDSTILL //

the pandemic. Funding previously allocated to the Trek Excellence Scholarship for international students will now be reallocated to more “impactful” and “valuable” awards, scholarships and programs, Floyd wrote.

His statement cited examples including the International Community Achievement Award, as well as Go Global and Work Learn funding opportunities for international undergraduates, which “support a greater number of students.”

Floyd also wrote that the AMS supported the change.

“The AMS budget submissions for 2022/23 and 2023/24 recommended closing down automatically adjudicated awards and redistributing the funds to more valuable experiential awards.”

The Ubyssey did not hear from the AMS by publishing time.

Nandita Parmar, a recent arts graduate, said it can be financially challenging to be in university, whether domestic or international, but as an international student, she felt less supported by the university.

“For me, finances have been impacted by every kind of decision UBC [has made],” said Parmar.

She stressed the importance of transparent communication from the university, since the removal of the scholarship was not publicly announced.

“It would be nice as students of an institution to have some openness in regards to where these funds are going. And if they’re being reallocated, are they still helping us?” Parmar asked.

According to the statement, “a brief update regarding [the changes] was posted on the [scholarship] information page … last year.”

“It’s important [for UBC] to take the extra steps to make sure that we’re being told what’s happening, and how the money is being spent,” said Parmar. “It’s part of our relationship with the university ... a reciprocal relationship and not just a one way thing.”

“It feels like a step back.” U

AMS not participating in Vancouver Pride Parade

Anna Rimanchan Contributor

The AMS will not be marching in the Vancouver Pride Parade this year.

At a May 31st Council meeting, AMS President Esmé Decker said they had not submitted an application to be part of the parade.

In an interview with The Ubyssey , Decker said the decision came down to rushed timing and a lack of communication during the transition to the new executive team.

“The president’s office team realized pretty close to the deadline that the prior application hadn’t been put in,” said Decker. “If a group really wants to be in the Vancouver Pride Parade, you should apply in the fall the year before.”

At a Council Meeting in March, former AMS President Eshana Bhangu expressed how she wanted the AMS to be part of Pride this year.

“It’s important that the AMS be there as an institution. We want UBC students represented,” said Bhangu.

Decker noted that “there was a pretty filled in application ready to go [from the previous AMS executive team],” but the application was never submitted.

“We wanted to ask ... the Pride Collective if they were interested in collaborating on it as they are a pretty close group to the AMS

The Pride Collective also advised the AMS not to submit an application because of the strained relationship with the previous AMS executives.

[and work directly] on Queer issues for students,” Decker explained.

Decker said the UBC Pride Collective considered the AMS’s offer, but ultimately declined since they were already planning to march with the UBC Queer Faculty and Staff Collective.

Based on the probability that the application would not be accepted on such short notice, the AMS decided not to march in the parade. Instead, the AMS will attend the parade as a group of AMS executives and staff to celebrate and support Queer students as allies.

Decker said she recognizes “this year might not be the year for the AMS to be in the spotlight and instead support by attending.”

Decker also hopes to rebuild trust with 2SLGBTQIA+ students in the upcoming year by ensuring the AMS submits an application

for next year’s Pride Parade in September. Going forward, she also hopes the new permanent equity and inclusion staff will provide continuity between the executive teams during the transition.

Gwen, whose last name has not been included to protect her identity, is the Pride Collective coordinator and said the group also advised the AMS not to submit an application because of the strained relationship with the previous AMS executives.

“While of course we have a new change in administration, and they seem much more ... willing to work with us ... there’s still a lot of lack of comfortability with the AMS in our community due to bad behavior in previous years.”

“We feel that when it comes to [the Pride Parade] as a symbol, if you’re marching in the parade, you should have a history of showing support,” she said.

Gwen stated the Collective “felt that it would be better for them in terms of building trust between our community ... not to march now and work towards rebuilding that trust and communication. And in the next year, apply instead.”

However, Gwen also expressed hope in the new executive team.

“We have big faith in … the new administration ... but we feel that it’s better to start with taking action first, before doing a gesture like marching in the parade, and be able to back it up with an action.” U

The Trek Excellence Scholarship will now only be available to Canadian citizens or permanent residents.

ANYA ANBER AMEEN / THE UBYSSEY

ISABELLA FALSETTI / THE UBYSSEY

2023 AES receives record high responses

Bernice Wong Senior Staff Writer

Results of the AMS 2023 Academic Experience Survey (AES) show concerns about affordability, discrimination and inadequate disability support among the student body.

Every year, the AMS polls students on their thoughts regarding educational satisfaction, campus community, finances and other opinions surrounding the university.

This year’s survey, conducted by Kai Analytics, saw a threefold increase in the number of respondents with 3,413 responses, in comparison to last year’s 1,090.

AMS VP Academic and University Affairs Kamil Kanji attributed this record-high response rate to a combination of factors including survey-release timing, collaboration with constituencies and a heightened level of campaigning.

Similarly to previous years, 65 per cent of respondents indicated their overall satisfaction with their university experience. This figure indicates respondents’ positive feelings towards course expectations and exam materials being reasonable.

BREAKING DOWN SURVEY DEMOGRAPHICS

The 3,413 total respondents include both undergraduate and graduate students, with 78 per cent of respondents identifying as undergraduate students.

Approximately 71 per cent of respondents were domestic students and 29 per cent were international students.

Broken down by faculty, 28 per cent of respondents were from the Faculty of Arts, followed closely by the Faculty of Science with 23 per cent and then the Faculty of Engineering at 9 percent.

Kanji noted a “good amount of similarity” between the university’s enrollment reports and survey respondents. In the coming years, he said the AMS will continue to work with constituencies with lower turnouts to improve campaigning strategies.

“Overall, the sample size is pretty representative, but we’re going to keep trying to ensure we get as much of a turnout as possible,” he said.

STUDENTS REPORT RACIAL AND GENDER BASED DISCRIMINATION

The highest levels of discrimination students reported were based on race or ethnicity and gender with 37 per cent and 35 per cent, respectively.

Seventy-five per cent of Black respondents and 43 per cent of Indigenous respondents indicated that they experienced racial discrimination on campus. Within those numbers, discrimination is most likely to occur from other students or instructors, according to the survey.

In terms of recommendations, the AMS believes that all instructors, staff and professors should undergo mandatory racial and unconscious bias training.

For the AMS, Kanji said this recommendation means working with appropriate university bodies across faculties to ensure professors have access to resources “on demand,” whether this includes text, online resources or in-person sessions.

In addition, the report said UBC should commit to increasing op -

portunities for Indigenous learning across faculties. In the survey, only half of the respondents felt they had the opportunity to engage and become aware of Indigenous histories and perspectives.

STUDENTS NOTE AFFORDABILITY AS A MAJOR CONCERN

Twenty-two per cent of respondents expressed that they might not be able to return to UBC in the future due to financial constraints. The survey noted this as the “highest percentage since 2015.” Notably, the survey also reported only 11 per cent of undergraduates believe UBC cares about their thoughts regarding the cost of education. This number has decreased over the past few years. Financial hardships are reflected in the respondents’ use of course materials. Almost 30 per cent of students reported frequently going without a textbook due to cost and 41 per cent of students admitted to using outdated versions of texts to avoid the higher costs of newer editions.

Sixty-one per cent of students noted their frequent use of open educational resources instead of textbooks.

Students also indicated the value of having access to syllabi prior to the course selection process. The

AMS believes it is “imperative” that this access be uniformly mandated for all courses on their respective SSC page.

To address financial hardship, Kanji highlighted the importance of implementing the Student Affordability Task Force recommendations and increasing food and housing support.

Along with pushing for greater food bank funding, the AMS is committed to increasing the number of affordable high density housing units. In the short-term, Kanji explained the Task Force is working to ensure emergency reserve funding is available for students struggling with housing costs.

One of the most surprising statistics for Kanji was the 14 per cent of respondents indicating they have used career support services offered by the Centre for Student Improvement and Careers. He attributes this low number to the university not doing more to adequately promote these resources, which is something he is working on.

Only 14 per cent of students believe the university is transparent with how their tuition fees are used.

“It’s not surprising that the students don’t have faith in their institutions,” said, Kanji. “That’s something that has been a consistent trend and something that we can hopefully work towards addressing over the next year.” U

Aisha Chaudhry and Renée Rochefort News Editor and News Producer

AMS SERVICES REPORT

June 2 — The 2022/23 AMS services report showed students’ usage of AMS services nearly doubled from 10,674 interactions last year to 23,417 interactions.

AMS Food Bank was the most used service and saw 16,253 interactions, another large increase compared to last year’s 7,496 interactions.

Seventy-two per cent of student food bank visits were international students and 52 per cent were graduate students, although these groups only comprise 30 and 22 per cent of the student body, respectively.

The two services that have been “winded down” were the eHub and AMS Housing.

AMS Housing has been integrated into AMS Advocacy “to be able to provide more specialized support to students involved in a conflict with their landlord,” read the report.

eHub, which provided mentorships and networking opportunities for student-led start-ups, was discontinued on May 1. The report said this was to “direct more resources to Services that are experiencing greater demand.”

AMS Tutoring also saw an increase in use this year, with 1,724 interactions. AMS Senior Student Services Manager Kathleen Simpson said this service mostly supports first-year students. MATH 100 and 101 were some of the most common courses students were seeking support for.

AMS BUDGET 2023/24

June 21 — The final version of the 2023/24 AMS budget was presented at AMS Council.

The current budget estimates a deficit of $738,766 for the 2023/24 year, which is smaller compared to last year’s $856,832 deficit.

Beyond inflation, VP Finance Abhi Mishra identified an increase in wage costs as the key driver behind budgetary changes.

Part-time staff will be paid the new BC minimum wage and AMS staff represented by the MoveUp union will retroactively receive a new salary per their 2021 collective bargaining agreement.

The budget also included a new salaried staff member in the Equity and Inclusion Office at the AMS.

Managing Director Justin Lieu said noted the AMS is “not in a great situation budget wise.”

However, Mishra said he wants to “help eradicate the deficit.”

The AMS hopes the ongoing Blue Chip Cafe renovations “will be able to increase its business revenue year.”

Blue Chip Cafe is moving to the former Pie “R” Squared location in the Nest and renovations will be completed prior to the start of the winter session.

According to the budget submission, the cafe is projected to bring in $709,548 during 2023/24. This would be a drop from the 2022/23 revenue of $725,456. U

Twenty-two per cent of respondents expressed that they might not be able to return to UBC due to financial constraints.

WREATH SHAMS / THE UBYSSEY

WHERE’S MY RAT LOVE STORY? //

Dreaming of Two Spirit and Indigiqueer utopias

Elena Massing

Culture Editor

Coming into a discussion about Love After the End: An Anthology of Two-Spirit & Indigiqueer Speculative Fiction, I was not expecting to hear about a human and an AI rat falling in love. It set the tone for audience members to imagine a future in which Queer communities are thriving, no matter what unconventional forms that takes on.

The literary panel was co-presented by the Queer Arts Festival (QAF) and the Talking Stick Festival on June 18 at the Roundhouse Performance Centre. It was the first in-person launch of the anthology, which was published during the peak of the pandemic.

Queers in Space is the “campy, colourful, kaleidoscopic” theme for QAF 2023, as described by Artistic Director Mark Takeshi McGregor. But the phrase holds a double meaning — the works are not only cosmic in nature, they also revolve around what it means to reclaim space as a Queer person.

QAF allocated the day for events highlighting Two Spirit and Indigiqueer artistry, with Love After the End at the forefront. Editor Joshua Whitehead, as well as contributors jaye simpson, Nazbah Tom and Nathan Adler, read and discussed their respective works in this collection.

Whitehead’s focus in developing the anthology of futuristic

QUEEN X MIA GOTH COLLAB //

stories was to move toward utopian narratives. He emphasized they did not want to write about trauma and pain, but centre joy and the role of Two Spirit and Indigiqueer communities in building a more hopeful horizon.

“As Indigenous people, and more specifically, with the intersection of Queerness, Transness, and Two Spiritedness, we know apocalypse already,” said Whitehead. “We’ve been living in dystopias … surviving the end of times,

again, and again and again.”

Whitehead describes the book as emerging “from ruin”; after the original publisher was shut down due to workplace sexual misconduct, he was unsure whether they could move forward with the project at all.

which recognizes excellence in 2SLGBTQIA+ storytelling.

UBC MFA alum and Wrist author Adler saw this anthology as his opening to experiment with science fiction. In their short story “Abacus,” the titular character is an Ojibwe AI rat who falls in love with Anishinaabe human Dayan.

Adler said the story incorporates the ideas of Anishinaabe cosmology and “being home.” He wrote it around the time of his move to Vancouver, which was a significant change for someone who had never lived outside of Anishinaabe territory.

Somatic practitioner Tom read from “Nameless,” their story about the connection between a counsellor and an individual who travels between worlds. They encouraged the audience to listen from a perspective where “time [and] space don’t really matter.”

“I imagine my backbone is the Milky Way galaxy,” they said, with a hush falling over the room as each audience member slipped into whatever this mindset looked like for them.

tion of Earth and the journey of life forms to a new habitable home. It questions how we would approach forming a relationship with an uncolonized planet.

simpson emphasized the inclusion of neopronouns, which go beyond the gender binary of pronouns typically used in English, in their work. This posed obstacles for her during the editing process, as academic language and traditional English grammatical rules caused some editors to judge or fumble her work.

“Do your own research about these pronouns, because I got this right,” simpson said.

Tom similarly mentioned they added asterisks next to all uses of they/them pronouns in their piece in order to bring extra attention to the words.

This care and attention to language carries throughout the entire collection, particularly in the terminology used to talk about sexuality and gender identity.

“I craft a theory of Indigiqueerness by rejecting queer and LGBT as signposts of my identity, instead relying on the sovereignty of traditional language, such as Two-Spirit, and terminology we craft for ourselves, Indigiqueer,” Whitehead wrote in the introduction.

Phoebe Fuller

Contributor

ARCHIVE is not your typical drag show — and not just because it actually starts on time.

It begins with four painted faces floating on a transparent screen. Disembodied in blackness, they slowly shift through a range of emotions — joy, sadness, confusion, anger, fear — until drifting closer into an amorphous blob of overlapping features.

This pre-show display (serving part Bohemian Rhapsody, part final shot of Pearl) hypnotically draws the audience into the world of the Darlings’ one-hour show, while foreshadowing its themes of identity and intimacy.

The floating faces are, of course, the Darlings themselves, composed of local multidisciplinary non-binary drag artists Continental Breakfast, Maiden China, Rose Butch and PM. While you may have seen these performers lip-sync their hearts out at your drag show of choice (including here at UBC!), you probably haven’t seen them quite like this before.

In ARCHIVE, the Darlings partner with Chimerik Collective to take the art of drag to new experimental and technical heights, with new, reworked and reimagined pieces. The show combines dance, storytelling, performance art, light shows, projections and holograms into an equally dazzling and melancholic retrospection on the last five

it was never going to be okay author simpson presented an excerpt from their piece “The Ark of the Turtle’s Back” while sporting an incredible pair of fish skeleton earrings. Whitehead came forward to help them detangle the straps of their mask from the bones — a show of “solidarity,” simpson joked.

Her story depicts the destruc-

Whitehead brought the panel to a close with an excerpt from his upcoming apocalyptic novel, which despite its subject matter, revolves around joy because “not all world endings are tragic.” U

The Darlings float down memory lane in ARCHIVE

years of the group and their Queer coming-of-age stories. The most impressive feature is the transparent screen used throughout much of the show, which plays projected images while still leaving the performers behind visible. The screen creates a dream-like effect that the Darlings take full advantage of.

Rose Butch slow-dances with holographic figures, Maiden China playfully peeks from behind the

However, with simpson spearheading the search for a new publisher, the anthology was picked up by Arsenal Pulp Press. Since its release, it has gone on to win the Lambda Literary Award, window of a childlike drawing and Continental Breakfast and PM dance in unison behind their own distorted outlines.

Each tableau plays with memories and connections between the performers, expertly woven into a nostalgic tapestry of performances. The Darlings communicate these connections in intimate scenes, like cutting each other’s nails, feeding each other the flesh of an orange

and delicately undressing each other. These moments reflect how Queer and Trans people nurture each other and form chosen families where traditional supports fall short.

In another piece that recurs throughout the show, the Darlings read memories from journals — a childhood trip to the beach, trying on a binder for the first time, losing their parents’ car while high on

molly. The audience at first assumes each memory is the reader’s own, until slowly realizing they are actually reading snippets from each other’s lives, highlighting both the uniqueness and universality of Queer experiences.

The Birdhouse, the newest venture of Queer-and-Trans-run Eastside Studios, is an intimate and eclectic venue. While smaller than its predecessor the Warehouse (RIP), the Birdhouse offers the same artsy Queer charm (and worry not, there are still plenty of disco balls).

A room to the side of the performance space is set up as a museum of memories that attendees were free to peruse before and after the show. Projectors and TVs play some of the Darlings’ past works, including their COVID offerings, Quarantine I and Quarantine II. Couches recognizable from these quarantine projects, and presumably from the Darlings’ own homes, are staged around the room. Personal photos, newspaper clippings and handwritten notes hang from strings, inviting vertically challenged visitors like myself onto our tiptoes for closer inspection.

At a time when Trans rights are under attack, it’s crucial that we support art that challenges gender binaries and centres Trans expression. It’s unknown whether ARCHIVE in the form I saw will ever be performed again, but future Darlings shows are sure to offer a similarly inventive and immersive experience that you won’t want to miss. U

Whitehead aimed to move towards utopian narratives.

It begins with four painted faces floating on a transparent screen.

COURTESY QUEER ARTS FESTIVAL

PHOEBE FULLER / THE UBYSSEY

Drag star Anita Wigl’it spreads kindness from down under to Davie Street

Before she was a drag queen, Anita Wigl’it had a job that was, at times, “boring.” Wigl’it, known out of drag as Nick Kennedy-Hall, was an usher at the Civic Theatre in Auckland, New Zealand and spent most of her shifts welcoming people at the door and showing them to their seats.

Patrons walked through the theatre’s foyer and under its domed ceilings, passing by intricate paintings and two lifesized Abyssinian panther statues — the theatre was ornate and its atmosphere electric, according to Wigl’it.

Some nights, once the lights went down and a show began, Wigl’it would slump into a red velvet seat in the back corner of the theatre to watch the patrons — and the show.

The first show she ushered was the Australian classic Priscilla, Queen of the Desert , and little did she know that a seemingly normal shift would forever change her life. The then-twenty year-old saw something in that theatre that she had never seen before — drag queens on stage.

Disco music — “the catchy songs that we love,” said Wigl’it — filled the theatre. Performers clad in extravagant gowns that resembled emus, koalas and flip-flops occupied the stage and surrounded Wigl’it. But so did acceptance and celebration. Wigl’it said she “was seeing an audience so appreciative of an obviously gay musical.”

After seeing that, the now RuPaul’s Drag Race star Wigl’it knew she needed to try drag.

“It’s amazing for me to see that all these straight people come out to watch drag shows … and they come and they celebrate us and they love what we do and they’re so supportive of us, especially in this day and age,” said Wigl’it.

“Seeing that really inspired me to think ‘Gosh, that’s what I want to do.’ I want to be celebrated by people but I also want to have fun … and show them that gay people are just so amazing.”

Wigl’it’s first time dressed in drag was at that year’s Civic Theatre’s staff Christmas party, her second was her Priscilla themed 21st birthday party.

“A friend of mine … did my makeup for that because I wasn’t very capable of doing my makeup myself in those days. Some would say still,” Wigl’it said, laughing.

And a gig or two later, Anita Wigl’it was born.

Soon after, Wigl’it finished her bachelor of music in music performance and after auditioning, found herself with two grad school options — move to New

York City to study at the Manhattan School of Music, or relocate to Vancouver and study at UBC.

In the end, meeting the music department head Robert Taylor and taking lessons with Larry Knopp, a music professor, helped Wigl’it seal the deal on UBC.

“They were just the most amazing people and not only were they lovely, they were also so talented,” said Wigl’it.

Knopp and Taylor played a part in influencing Wigl’it to relocate, but so did Vancouver’s rich Queer history.

“[Vancouver] was one of those gay-friendly [cities],” said Wigl’it. “So when I got accepted into the school, it was a no-brainer. I had to go to UBC.”

Wigl’it was excited to move to Vancouver but thought drag would have to take a backseat in her life while she focused on school. But, the self-described “embarrassingly good student” stumbled on a drag competition — Vancouver’s Next Drag Superstar.

Wigl’it ended up winning.

“I applied and said ‘Hey, I’m from New Zealand ... I’d love to do a show,’ and they said yes. So I entered that competition. It was all week long,” said Wigl’it. “I was lucky enough to end up winning, which was amazing … because I won, I kind of just fell right into the drag career in Canada and Vancouver.”

She would spend “a lot of time” on Davie Street — Vancouver’s historically gay neighbourhood — working in the community’s clubs and “meeting some amazing people.” Here, Wigl’it fell in love with what she calls “the rainbow community” around Vancouver.

After graduating from UBC with a master of music in 2014, Wigl’it played the trumpet for the Royal New Zealand Navy Band while doing drag on the side.

She said her work with the Royal New Zealand Navy Band allowed her to work as a full-time musician, something she had worked toward her entire life. But, drag was taking over — “It was more fun, I had more opportunities and I was getting paid well for it,” said Wigl’it.

As a drag queen, Wigl’it said she could grow not only as a performer but also as a producer, director, make-up artist and host. So, she started to do drag full-time.

Since then, Wigl’it has occupied our television sets. She hosted House of Drag, a New Zealand reality drag competition television series produced by Warner Bros., with drag queen (and friend) Kita Mean.

Later, Wigl’it was approached by the producers of RuPaul’s Drag Race Down Under — a new show in

the RuPaul’s Drag Race competition franchise — asking her to join the cast.

“I just felt so excited and ... so unaware of what was gonna happen, and I thought I could just give it my all and that’s all I could do. And so I did,” said Wigl’it about her run on the show. “I went on and I made a big impression, which is kind of what you want to do.”

After her 2021 run on Drag Race Down Under, where she placed eighth with one challenge win, she was approached by the producers of Canada’s Drag Race: Canada vs. the World asking if she wanted to compete again.

Going into Canada vs. the World, Wigl’it said she felt confident since she knew who she was inside.

“I never wanted to be one of those drag queens that goes on [Drag Race] and says ‘Oh, I’m usually much better than this. I don’t know what’s going wrong.’ And so I knew it myself that what I was doing was right,” said Wigl’it.

She also said that her style of drag — “more about the personality and about the stupidness” — might not have been what the judges of Canada vs. the World were looking for. Despite her performance on the show, which aired late 2022, she left with new fans and “got a lot of love for being myself.”

Here, Wigl’it placed seventh and was named the season’s Miss. Congeniality — a title given to the drag performer who emphasizes kindness during the contest — by her fellow contestants.

“I would have always been the same with or without the TV show,” said Wigl’it when asked if Drag Race changed her attitude toward drag. “I’ve always been truly nice to people, and try to make people laugh and entertain people first and foremost.”

Despite her humble — and “boring” — beginnings as an usher, guiding patrons to their seats and slumping into the worst seat in the house, Wigl’it has gone from down under to Davie Street, and all the way to Drag Race

Watching Priscilla forever changed Wigl’it’s life. It made her want to become a drag performer, and the crowd’s acceptance for Priscilla then has made its way into Wigl’it’s performances now.

“My life’s mission through drag is to reach as many people and make as many people happy as I can ... I love to make people laugh,” said Wigl’it. “If I could go out and do that and give people escapism from their lives and the sad things that are going on … then I’ve done something right in the world.” U

words by Iman Janmohamed

photos by Ally Ryan

photos courtesy Anita Wigl’it

ISTANBUL IS MADE OF COLOURFUL TILES, OF OLD MEMORIES

words by SELIN BERKTAS

illustration by ANYA ANBER AMEEN

Painting a portrait of Istanbul is impossible — laughable, even.

The city is like its architecture — made up of intricate mosaics pieced together by small tiles that make up a big picture.

But since this big picture is made up of many small parts, the terrifyingly overwhelming experience of walking down the streets of Istanbul makes it a messy piece of art.

I was raised in a small apartment in Ataşehir, a district in the part of Istanbul that lies in Asia. I remember very little from that time. Snippets of stapling my fingers to the bed sheets, regularly boarding one of those ‘ascending room’ elevators, using my dad’s old cassette player.

I only lived in this ornate city for around six years before moving to Baku, Azerbaijan, my mother’s home. We still visit Ataşehir often, it is where I was acquainted with the liveness of people. There’s very little that remains the same when I’m back in Istanbul. Perhaps the only constants in Istanbul lie on its streets — cigarette butts layered across the cement, the red lights, loud honking and angered voices raised in hopes of offending the evening traffic jams.

Istanbul has is infamous for ter-

rible traffic — especially during the hour-long ride across the Bassin Express Highway, which connects the airport, one of two, to the city. This is an indicator that you’ve found yourself in the beating heart of the Anatolia region.

This messy, largely confusing state of living that is steeped into the very streets of Istanbul is a familiarity, however.

Past the bridge that ends in another continent, it’s a slight hike up the small alley that leads to my father’s aunt’s home, where we stay when we visit.

Visiting — that’s what we do in Istanbul, my hometown.

My aunt feeds around twelve street cats with more consistency than she does taking her prescription pills. The cats always find a way to crowd around the bottom of the carry-on I have to pull up the cobbled streets, making me worry that I’ll accidentally run them over in impatience, the wheels disturbed by the inconsistency of the surface.

My dad always offers to go out for dinner the first night I’m back. It’s difficult to refuse. A few blocks down, it’s easy to find a çay bahçe, a tea garden. They line the streets as if essential businesses. The manager usually stands outside, propping

up the door kindly, but not at all quietly, yelling brother, come have tea! over the noise of the honking.

“Delikanlı, üç çay getirsene!”

The phrase that my dad uses to refer to the man is a direct contradiction of gentleman — what one would use in the West when asking to be waited. Delikanlı feels like a substitute for gentleman, in the context of asking one to do something, yet the term is broken down to something far from the English gentleman.

Made up of two separate words, deli and kanlı, it is the usual phrase when referring to a man who sells you baklava on the street or helps you bring down your cat from the tree. Delikanlı translates over to ‘crazy blood(ed),’ despite the positive connotation you’d find yourself using it in.

The waiter would bring us the tea we’d ordered, leaving to feed the cats waiting behind the plastic glass of the door shortly after. We have lots of cats — a fact about my hometown that I often remark with a self-congratulatory attitude — and they are treated obscenely well, with the dynamic between people paling in comparison to how owners of brunch corner stores treat the street cats. People

love the cats.

Not that people are antisocial, of course. Quite the opposite, actually.

On the second or third day of one of these annual trips, once my jet lag of arriving from Vancouver wears off, my mom asks if I’d like to visit some bazaar with her. She says the prices are better here, a gentle yet cruel reminder that my parents don’t live in my hometown anymore.

The bazaars are well decorated, certainly appealing to whatever exotic fantasies tourists would envision seeing: bags of spices lining the floor, dried vegetables hanging from the ceiling and colourful lamps stacked in such a haphazardous way that I developed a fear of watching them all topple over.

Come, come, take a look, only 14 for the socks!

Organic tahini! Try some, kid!

Bell pepper! Take it in bulk!

In the few years I’d lived in Istanbul, and through the multiple visits I’d made, I had gotten well acquainted with bazaar etiquette. It’s moderated chaos — there’s a motorcycle revving its engine in the middle of the walkway and people accidentally rolling their patterned trolley dollies over your foot. Some sellers crouch on the

floor, drinking tea on their break from selling assorted walnut jams and boxes of nougat, offering a discount.

My mom will convince me to take some spices back. She’ll buy several bags of assorted powders and textures and tell me to not eat bland food just because I live in Canada now.

The railway of a tram lies directly where we walk. There’s a large clearing a little further, a promenade where I remember feeding pigeons, chasing more cats around and chewing on sunflower seeds.

This is perhaps the most nauseating aspect of Istanbul — the fact I can only recall these bits and pieces when something random on the street brings back a memory.

A piece of me can be found at the corner of every street, under all the pots and plants and in the large bag of crushed pepper you’ve found yourself staring at. So really, if you ask me for an image, a rundown, a portrait of Istanbul, I wouldn’t be able to give you one.

Istanbul is still the overwhelmingly decorated, busy and lovingly messy city that it always was — made of small colorful tiles, of old commemorative memories. U

The whens and wheres of Queerawakening

words by Eliza Mahon and Laura Summerfield design by Anya Anber Ameen

Being Queer often means certain experiences happen on a different timeline.

You might not have grown up in a community where it was safe to explore your sexuality or gender identity, so you never got that perfect coming-of-age movie love story. Maybe you never felt like you could relate to the people around you while growing up, but couldn’t quite figure out why.

Sometimes it takes a major change — whether that is leaving home for university, or spending a term abroad — to provide an opportunity to learn more about who you are.

Two Ubyssey writers share their Queer “firsts” in the following essays.

Finding the right fit

I was the first of my friends to have my first kiss. It was in the only gay bar in my hometown before I left for university. She came over and offered to buy me a drink. We danced, then she kissed me. Afterwards, I said to my friends, “I definitely like women.”

I had my first crush in grade eight — it was my best friend, a straight cis woman. My next crush was a girl who lived near me. After that, the cute employee at the bookstore who recommended the worst romance novels — thank you, Ashlinn!

I loved all of these women, had never been interested in men and had never been close to a guy. Yet, until I came to university, I still identified as bi. There was something about that label that felt safe. Like there was still a part of me that my grandparents could love. If I played my cards right and married a man, they’d never know that I liked women — “not that there’s anything wrong with that,” they’d say (subtext: there definitely is).

I jumped straight into a label without testing it out because that was the second safest one to use in my conservative city.

I moved to Vancouver, where I lived alone and had no friends established, where all I had to

do was explore my new environment. I could be anyone here. I was untethered. For the first time, I could take a step back from a label I clung to for so long.

As someone who craved safety, that was kind of terrifying. My old gymnastics coach used to say comfort only kills flowers, not weeds.

I couldn’t slip on another definitive label until I actually knew that it fit, and I’d only know that it was the right fit if I put myself out there. I introduced myself as she/ her, she/they, they/them — who cares? Someone called me sir, and I liked it. What does that mean? Does it matter?

I went to a pride club masquerade ball. I flirted with the girl who sat next to me in GRSJ (shoutout to Dr. Snowden for bringing us together). I went to a hockey game with a boy and wished the kiss cam would land on us. I went to a concert with a girl I met in the bathroom that day, and it was one of the best nights of my life.

I didn’t have the same luxury as my cishet peers to safely explore my identity before university. I still don’t have a definitive label, and maybe I never will.

I’ll stick with Queer, and for the first time, I’ll enjoy the uncertainty.

— Eliza Mahon

A newfound energy

I was 19 when I looked in the mirror and saw myself for the first time.

When I was younger, my hair had never been shorter than my chin, but now, only its longest strands brush my ears. I often looked in the mirror, drew my hair into a ponytail and pretended it wasn’t there. I would pretend I had a more masculine look; I wished I had a clean, neat, combed cut instead of loose, long waves that I’d always straighten into submission.

I’d straightened myself into submission for so long, it felt like I was looking at someone else in the mirror.

My physicality would never allow for someone to see me as male, regardless of my haircut. I’d chosen a style very different from the norm in Vancouver, where I’d just moved to study.

To an observer, I was certainly not a man, but certainly not what I’d decided made a “Vancouver woman” either. I was not anything in particular. I began growing my hair out, believing the validation of others would heal more wounds than my own self-acceptance would.

During my term abroad, I met another agender person for the first time. We sat across from each other at a table during a Queer mixer and exchanged numbers. We had a history class together, and a couple of times I proposed lunch.

We’d sit, then they’d take a photo for their food blog and I’d watch

them. We’d talk about being older siblings, about being Americans in the UK and about where we come from. I had seen myself in that mirror over a year ago, but now someone else could see me too.

They weren’t my first kiss, but they were my first … something nameless. Something special, transformative and irreplaceable.

They were my first lighting a match with a hot plate, my first Halloween get-together, my first chai latte, my first loaded stare as we looked at each other for the last time. They were my first “I’m glad to have known you.” They were the first set of eyes that knew I wasn’t just my body — that I was more than my secondary sex characteristics and the baggage they come with. They knew my essence was separate from my being, and I hope I played the same role for them.

When I returned from Scotland, my closest friends marveled at a new and inexplicable confidence that had blossomed during my time away. They said I had “rizz.” I was an energized presence. I was sharper, more self-assured and I carried myself taller. I had come back more whole than I had left.

More than ever, I knew who I was, and I knew this was because my friend in Edinburgh had known it. They had known me, and I was glad for it.

— Laura Summerfield U

Looking back to the 1998 Queer issue

Anabella McElroy Coordinating Editor

While putting together this issue, we decided to take a look back at how Pride has been represented in The Ubyssey in years past.

One piece we found was a paper published on February 5, 1998 coordinated by Pride UBC — that year’s Pride issue.

The editors wrote that they hoped the issue would give readers “some insight into the harships we, as a community and as people, must deal with.”

25 years on, reading that issue was a blast from the past (a young Ellen on the cover, references to nightclubs that don’t exist anymore), while also a stark reminder that the struggles of the Queer community at UBC back then are not all that different than those of today.

This page includes snippets of the full issue, which you can find online in the UBC Library Open Collections archive of The Ubyssey.

Some excerpts contain slurs and outdated terminology describing 2SLGBTQIA+ people. They have been printed unchanged from the original issue to preserve the historical record. U

One article highlighted efforts to create a Lesbian and Gay studies minor. Today, students can major or minor in gender, race, sexuality and social justice (GRSJ), or minor in critical studies in sexuality.

In March 2023, 25 years after the article above was published, the Chiliwack RCMP investigated books in school libraries containing 2SLGBTQIA+ and anti-racist content, responding to complaints from a far-right conspiracy group.

24 years before our 2022 spoof issue Girlbossmopolitan debuted its ‘Are You Straight’ quiz, the Heterosexual Questionnaire poked fun at homophobic tropes.

Other articles highlighted intersectionality within the Queer community, specifically Queer people of colour. The ‘Queer among Queers’ article concludes with a call to action.

“As with the problem of racism and homophobia there is no fast solution. What is needed is a deconstruction of the discriminatory standards tahat are deeply entrenched in society. This task is grand, and the first step is to recognize that there is a problem. Bigotry feeds on denial.”

The Block-E-files

the existence of a supposed Buchanan Block E. Observe exhibit A:

Not only does Buchanan Block E not exist, it cannot exist.

Harry Sadleir Senior Staff Writer

By the time you graduate from UBC, you are expected to leave with a few key things: writing proficiency, knowledge that Loafe > Blue Chip, expertise in your field of study and the idea that Buchanan Block E is an “actual building” that “really exists.”

This last “fact” is, of course, nothing but an attempt at persuading the public of a factual impossibility. That’s right, dear reader — not only does Buchanan Block E not exist, it cannot exist.

Uncovering the truth hidden in this architectural web of lies will not be easy, but through the evidence presented herein, you too can awaken to the fact that Buchanan E isn’t real and anything “within” is just yet another Buchanan D hallway.

PROOF: FOUR BLOCKS IS THE MAXIMUM NUMBER OF BLOCKS

Here we construct a proof by division into cases on the number of blocks in a structure, to show that one through four blocks are valid, but a fifth block cannot be added.

One: The trivial case. The only way that there could not be one block is if there were no blocks. We can all think of a time we saw a block. You’re probably in a block right now. Since there are one or more blocks, it is valid for there to be one block.

Two, Three: Consider a reduction to the Toy Blocks problem, where a toddler tries to take one cube toy block and stack it on top of a second block (also Toy). This task proves difficult for some toddlers, but eventually they too are able to achieve a stack of (up to) three Toy Blocks. But what are Toy Blocks but a form of block themselves? Therefore, two and three blocks are valid.

Four: The most difficult case, since packing four blocks into three dimensions is a real challenge. You might even be saying to yourself “it’s impossible — four is bigger than three, and that’s the number of d’s there are!” Thankfully, we can use a proof by example on a real world packing of four blocks. That’s right. Buchanan itself.

Observe in this map in which the offending piece of misinformation has been redacted.

I’M NOT BETTER THAN YOU. I’M JUST MORE GOOD IN MOST WAYS //

In this example the four blocks of Buchanan are like a box with its lid removed. This is one way in which four blocks can be arranged, and therefore four boxes is a valid arrangement.

Five: Can’t be done, like literally how would you.

QED.

THAT’S A LOT OF FOUR IN THAT BUCHANAN MAP

This is the most damning evidence against

Notes App: I’m a Dean’s Scholar

Renée Rochefort News Producer

Hello connections, I have an important message for all 23 of you.

I’m incredibly thrilled to announce the University of British Columbia (Vancouver) has bestowed me the new title of Dean’s Scholar for achieving an average higher than 90 per cent in my coursework.

The Dean’s Scholar is attributed to students of exceptional skill, passion and talent as another reminder of how much better I am than all of you. While the Dean’s List is an acceptable achieve -

ment, I am humbled to announce that I have superseded it and received the title of Dean’s Scholar for my 99.9 per cent average.

Over my time at UBC, I have achieved the status of supreme student and will be using my huge brain to pursue my dream grad program, a JD-MD-PhD-MScGCAQUA-MASA-MEng-MBA at literally any university in the US that will take me, next year.

I am confident being a Dean’s Scholar properly equips me for the challenge posed by the JD-MD-PhD at [TBD] University. My success despite my rigorous schedule at UBC is a testament to my

ability to challenge myself (I googled “UBC bird classes” to pick my classes) in a competitive environment.

I’m “extremely grateful” to have this notation on my transcript. I can now brag to my peers about being better than them (in a respectful manner), let future employers know (they don’t care) and inflate my parents’ egos (every family member will know about my colossal brain).

A massive shoutout to Sparknotes, ChatGPT and Chegg for supporting my education and success. My lawyers (parents) have told me to clarify that this support is purely theoretical and does not constitute academic misconduct.

That’s right. Buchanan what now? Quadrangle. I don’t think that word is real, but quad means four and there it is written right in the middle of Buchanan’s aforementioned box-with-its-lid-removed formation. Not convinced? Exhibit B:

As you can see, labels for this diagram go only up to (and never past!) the number four. And four is the number version of the letter D, with five (the number version of the letter E) conspicuously absent.

CONCLUSION

There are many questions left unanswered. Why does Big Buchanan E so badly need for this lie to be believed by the masses? How long has it been like this? How is this related to Big Blue Chip Cookie Store?

Some may say the burden of proof for such questions lies with the people making outrageous claims that go against the shared knowledge of a 60,000 person student body.

To that I say nuh-uh.

How far does this all go? If you ask me, it goes straight to the top. The top of Buchanan Tower.

Oh no, someone’s pounding on my door — it must be Big Buchanan E! It’s too late for me now, but you can carry on the fight. Remember to stay vigilant, count to four (not five) and open your eyes. U

Blog is The Ubyssey’s humour section. Don’t take us too seriously.

Thank you, me, for fucking killing it every day. And lastly, thank you, UBC, for being okay, I guess. I owe you all my gratitude.

I promise to work hard and strive to achieve a 100 per cent average in the upcoming year and make Deborah Buszard (and, of course, Santa Ono, my original king) proud.

Yours truly, a UBC Dean’s Scholar U Notes App is The Ubyssey’s satirical opinions section. Send pitches and completed pieces to blog@ubyssey.ca.

ANYA ANBER AMEEN / THE UBYSSEY

The REAL map.

Exhibit B.

Exhibit A.

HARRY SADLEIR / THE UBYSSEY

HARRY SADLEIR / THE UBYSSEY

HARRY SADLEIR / THE UBYSSEY

Student activists reflect on the life and legacy of the Filipino student movement

Isa Carlin Contributor

Isa Carlin is a national democratic activist with Sulong UBC and a recent graduate from the UBC iSchool. They have been part of the Filipino national democratic movement since 2019.

This past spring, students marched to the UBC President’s office to call on the university to divest from corporations complicit in human rights abuses, including abuses committed in the Philippines.

As on-campus activism continues to ramp up, Sulong UBC reflects on the lessons and legacy of Filipino student organizing and what we can draw from this history to respond to contemporary issues.

Today, students are agitated about issues that were exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic — the skyrocketing cost of food, exorbitant rent increases and ever-rising tuition fees.

These same issues were present in the 1960s and 70s, driving conversation on campuses around the world, including in the Philippines.

Sulong UBC — an organization of Filipino students and allies — is an affiliate of Anakbayan Canada, which launched a campaign in January to honour the legacy of recently- passed Filipino activist Jose Maria “Joma” Sison.

Joma was the founding chairperson of revolutionary political organizations and contributed greatly to the historic Filipino and

international proletarian movements.

In the 1970s, Filipino students like Joma united with workers and peasants in the Philippines to demand changes in the face of socioeconomic inequality.

Peasants faced landlessness, a situation where landlords own the land that peasants work, characterized by minimal payouts from harvested crops, poverty due to high land rent rates and usury to cover their basic needs. Workers faced union-busting and low wages; and students faced high tuition rates.

Filipino activists identified that these distinct issues are rooted an economic system defined by subordination to US imperialism, domestic feudalism and the corrupt profit-driven management of the government — what is called bureaucrat capitalism.

After the Second World War, the Philippines’ revolutionary anti-colonial movement was suppressed by US-backed counterinsurgency measures. It took two decades for this spirit to be reignited. In the streets, this reawakening took the form of mass actions, strikes and critical press; in homes, schools, workplaces. In the countryside, it appeared as the launching of organizations including the Kabataang Makabayan, the Communist Party of the Philippines and the New People’s Army.

After the declaration of martial law in 1972 by dictator

Ferdinand Marcos Sr., the father of current Philippine President Ferdinand “Bongbong” Marcos Jr., many of the people’s organizations formed during the 1960s and early 70s were forced underground.

In 1989, martial law ended. The Philippines saw new origanizations, like Anakbayan in 1998, take to the streets and participate in legal civic actions like protests and popular education to organize against the exploitative and oppressive economic system.

A Marxist analysis of society developed in the Philippines during the 1960s and 70s, expressed in publications like Philippine Society and Revolution ; this analysis remains the basis of Filipino revolutionary organizing in the Philippines and across the diaspora.

As members of Sulong UBC and the national democratic movement, we apply these lessons from youth organizing of the past to present issues at UBC.

“The [Filipino] student movement is very principled,” says Grace Ma, a Sulong UBC Executive Committee member. Through work focused on both the rights and welfare of students and workers at UBC and the organization’s “national and international connection” to the Philippines, Sulong stays “grounded on the real issues,” Ma says.

The need for strong solidarity between students and workers is remains relevant and evident at

UBC.

On campus, many workers and students alike face food insecurity (especially since the AMS revoked staff access to its food bank) or live far from campus to cope with the broader housing crisis.

Many also bear the double burden of supporting themselves in Canada and sending remittances to their families in the Philippines or other semi-colonies around the world.

Lovely Ranges, another Sulong Executive Committee member, notes that “for us to read theory and call ourselves leftists is not enough. Vancouver is full of people who are ‘radical,’ but something I learned from the Filipino student movement is that being radical means to actually go out of your way to build a community where everyone collectively cares about each other. When we say ‘for the masses,’ we want the exploited masses specifically to be the ones to lead us.”

The revolutionary potential of students hasn’t gone away — now more than ever, we can change our conditions if we take the time to learn from the lessons of the revolutionary student movements of the 20th century.

Through the decades of cumulative experiences that Filipino youth have gained through our own organizing and the revolutionary action of our parents and grandparents, class analysis has led to a powerful Filipino youth

movement that can link up with the struggles of the broadest exploited masses. History has shown that solidarity across sectors and peoples based on an anti-imperialist class analysis leads to revolutionary victories.

In the Philippines, this worker-student solidarity led to the formation of powerful mass organizations and major political victories throughout the 1970s and 80s, like the ouster of Marcos Sr. Sulong UBC uses the same strategies today.

Through a deep connection with exploited people, principles of international solidarity, the study of political theory and a focus on tangible political campaigns, Sulong members aim to raise our consciousness and achieve concrete victories. Victories like increased awareness and material support for Filipino political prisoners like Karina dela Cerna; a growing connection with Filipino workers and other student organizations on campus in response to rising tuition rates, climate change, food insecurity and the global political and economic crisis; and the expansion of our organization as well.

When students and workers unite, we can change our classrooms, our homes, our campuses and our world. U

This is an opinion letter. It does not reflect the opinions of The Ubyssey as a whole. You can submit an opinion at ubyssey.ca/pages/submit-an-opinion

Sulong UBC at September 2022 food insecurity walkout.

Sulong UBC joins other student organizations to protest food insecurity in September 2022.

Sulong UBC and Student Christian Movement UBC host a panel discussion in honour of Cordillera Day in April.

COURTESY SULONG UBC COURTESY SULONG UBC

COURTESY SULONG UBC

Beat the heat: How to exercise in summer weather

Lauren Kasowski Sports + Rec Editor

Summer is officially here, and with it comes time for beach volleyball, BBQs and pickup basketball.

But Vancouver has faced intense temperatures and heat waves in recent years and BC is predicted to have another above-average summer.

With high temperatures outside and inside, it can be hard to stay cool while staying active. Here are The Ubyssey’s tips for exercising in hot summer weather.

A WATER BOTTLE IS YOUR BEST FRIEND

It’s not enough to only drink water during exercise. Before, during and after workouts, it is important to be hydrating your body.

Water is essential for regulating body temperature, which is mostly done through sweating. And although it cools you down, sweating also makes you lose water.

When exercising in hot weather, you lose water even faster. By hydrating all the time, you’re taking proactive steps to prevent dehydration and keep yourself cool.

Tired of plain old water? Adding electrolytes or eating high water-content foods, like watermelon or oranges, can help replenish water loss in a more exciting way.

BE MORE CHILL

We’ve all been told that a cooldown

Exercising in hot weather is doable, especially if you know how to stay safe.

after a workout prevents injuries. Under warmer temperatures, a cooldown is even more important to protecting your health.

A cooldown prevents the body from rapidly experiencing extreme temperatures. Although it might be tempting to go straight from a sprint to a cold shower, going from hot to freezing and back to hot puts stress on your body

which could impact the ability to properly regulate its temperature. A simple five minute routine gives your body time to adjust to a lower heart rate and return to its normal temperature. Once your body has initially cooled down, then you can hasten cooling with a cold shower, cold compress or even an ice bath if you’re brave (or desperate) enough.

For outdoor exercise, wearing loose, breathable clothing will circulate air next to your skin instead of sticking and generating heat. Avoiding sunburn lessens the likelihood of heat-related illnesses, so adding a hat and a layer or sunscreen can also help keep you cool outdoors.

Planning your exercise for the cool parts of the day, like early in

the morning or later in the evening, helps to avoid peak heat and thus, avoid extreme temperature shifts in your body.

YOUR BODY, YOUR CHOICE

The impacts of warmer weather aren’t one size fits all — older individuals and people with compromised health are more vulnerable than other populations. Especially when it comes to exercising, you are the best judge of your body’s own limits. In more extreme conditions, don’t push yourself too hard or feel like you have to complete a hard workout. It’s okay to take a break.

That being said, increased temperatures increase the likelihood of heat-related illnesses, like heat exhaustion and heat stroke. Watch for symptoms of heat exhaustion, like a headache, dizziness, nausea and increased tiredness. If you experience any of these while exercising, stop and start to cool down with water in a cool location.

It’s important to look for the first signs of heat exhaustion since extended heat exhaustion can lead to heat stroke, which is a medical emergency. If someone stops sweating or starts to experience confusion or irritation along with heat exhaustion symptoms, call 911 right away.

The bottom line? Exercising in hot weather is doable, especially if you know how to stay safe. Stay hydrated, stay cool, trust yourself and enjoy the summer — it never lasts long enough. U

ANYA ANBER AMEEN / THE UBYSSEY

Cultural roots: Ethics in Indigenous plant knowledge and pharmacology

Sophia Russo Senior Staff Writer

Dr. Eduardo Jovel has spent years of his academic career in labs researching the chemical composition of Indigenous plant medicine — work which stems from his Papil-Mayan heritage.

But, Jovel came to realize that something was missing.

“By doing [lab work] I will gain this understanding from a Western perspective: biological activity, chemical structures and properties of particular molecules,” he said.

While that information is useful, there are nuances the microscope can’t catch. Without considering the history, traditional methods and context of plant medicines, our knowledge of them isn’t just incomplete — it can be colonial.

“It is a different way of understanding the effect of these medicines, but in my opinion,” Jovel said, “it leaves behind the knowledge of Indigenous people.”

For Indigenous communities, the uses of traditional plant medicine often stretch far beyond physical effects against illness.

Health practices between Indigenous cultures and communities are very diverse. Still, Indigenous approaches to health are often rooted in a holistic conception of well-being involving a balance of four elements of wellness: physical, emotional, mental and spiritual.

In contrast, Western medicine has traditionally focused on an empirical approach to health care.

This cultural nuance is often absent from academic conversations on plant medicines, which tend to ignore plants’ cultural significance in favour of analyzing their chemical utility. According to UBC educators and Indigenous experts, using Indigenous plant medicine ethically demands Indigenous-centered dialogue — and holding pharmaceutical institutions accountable to where their knowledge comes from.

SOWING KNOWLEDGE

Settler colonialism destroys the knowledge and biodiverse ecosystems that once supported abundant plant medicines, causing immense intergenerational burdens for Indigenous communities.

“Everything has been stripped — the land, culture, medical systems,” said Jovel, who is also the Director of Indigenous Research Partnerships at UBC.

Given this generational loss, inherited practices like plant knowledge play a role in “defining cultural identity,” according to Jovel. There is also an intimate connection to cultural resilience, as plant knowledge involves an understanding of the local natural environment and Indigenous languages. The act of using traditional plants is also an exercise in translating generational knowledge of dosages and preparation protocols.

According to Jovel, some Indigenous peoples like the Cree Nation of Eeyou Istchee have historically shared knowledge with settlers willingly. However, settlers have often used Indigenous plants as medicine without respect or acknowledgement.

Without considering traditional protocols for harvest and reciproci-

ty, this can result in overharvesting, which deprives Indigenous communities of their own medicines on their own land for settler benefit. Settlers also use Indigenous plants to produce commodifiable or patentable materials, which has been termed “biopiracy.” Considering how profitable pharmaceuticals can be, this amounts to a major theft of compensation.

Jovel said that the medicines he makes using Indigenous plants are not sold but shared as gifts.

UBC alum and Vancouver Island Professor of Indigenous/ Xwulmuxw Studies Dr. Georgina Martin, who is Secwepemc and a member of Williams’ Lake First Nation, addressed how many Indigenous communities are often wary of sharing medical information.

“Because of the history of colonization, a lot of people don’t want to disclose any of their knowledge for fear of appropriation. That’s very real,” said Martin. Martin pointed to the overlooked Indigenous roots of ubiquitous pharmaceutical painkillers like aspirin.

Indigenous knowledge stewardship also has policy implications.

“There is legal responsibility also. Ethics is not enough by itself,” said Jovel.

The protection of Indigenous cultural identity, including plants, falls under Section 35 of the Canadian Constitution. The Convention for Biological Diversity, which Canada is party to, also affirms that Indigenous sovereignty over land and knowledge is a crucial component of conserving biodiversity.

“Indigenous people have a right to ownership over their own knowledge,” said Martin.

DECOLONIZING PSYCHEDELICS

According to Jovel, colonial use of culturally-relevant plants is especially problematic for sacred

plants, which hold deep spiritual significance. These can include entheogens that alter consciousness. Specific Indigenous communities, including the Maya and Mazatec of Mexico and Latin America, use them in ceremonies.

In settler North America, psychedelics have been leveraged to treat post-traumatic stress disorder and substance abuse disorder patients. Canadian research interest in psilocybin, also known as magic mushrooms, is growing.

For Jovel, ethical problems arise when settlers remove a sacred plant and bypass knowledge keepers. Martin said that as psychedelics rise in popularity, concerns are mounting that the source of psilocybin in its native environments is dwindling due to urbanization, agricultural land-use change and tourism.

“It’s an issue of cultural appropriation. It’s an issue that is not respectful to Indigenous cultures, because you bring in these uses outside the cultural context,” said Jovel.

Jovel emphasized the cultural value of all plant medicines, even those that don’t carry ceremonial significance. The use of culturally-relevant plant medicines should be intentional and centered around Indigenous knowledge, including the preparation of the medicine in a traditional way and ensuring Indigenous people are adequately compensated.

He acknowledged the potential of embracing the medicinal properties of sacred plants. However, he thinks Western medical research should avoid them altogether.

“I think that sacred plants probably should be left out of medical research. We have millions and millions of plants on the planet that have probably similar [benefits],” he said.

“Maybe they should be left

alone because they’re sacred. To understand what is sacred is important for people. What is sacred to you? I could ask and you can think about it: What is sacred? And what will happen if that’s taken away from you?”

Martin is a co-lead at the Naut sa mawt Centre for Psychedelic Research, which is committed to researching psychedelics in a way that is culturally-appropriate. A substantial part of their work is developing an ethical research model that incorporates ceremonial and spiritual components from knowledge keepers. Many of the projects at the Centre are in the ethics phase awaiting approval.

Martin sees value in the exploration of psilocybin as a medicinal tool for supporting those suffering from PTSD, particularly those struggling with intergenerational trauma from residential schools.

“That’s why I got interested in finding out more about how these medicines are being applied and how it possibly could be considered as a response for helping individuals grapple with this level of trauma,” Martin said.

INDIGENIZING POINT OF CARE

According to UBC educator Larry Leung, who specializes in integrating Indigenous cultural safety in the pharmacy program, it is important for pharmacy students to be exposed to holistic ways of looking at health care. The goal is to set a stage for future pharmacists to view medicine as inclusive — with ceremony, storytelling, plants and food all considered.

He highlighted the two-eyed seeing approach, a model for research which looks to intersect Western and Indigenous health systems. Martin preferred referring to the model as a “multiple-eyed” seeing, to highlight the diversity of

Indigenous perspectives.

At UBC, this includes two required lectures, a community project-based elective and the UBC 23-24 Indigenous Cultural Safety Quartiles (mandatory modules in the course curriculum). Lectures are often co-taught with Indigenous community members.

Leung and his colleague Dr. Jason Min also supported the development of a community-based learning project that aims to give back.

In one project, students organized a visual guide of Indigenous plant medicines for a local community. Once they completed the guide, the version kept by the program was redacted to protect the intellectual property of that community.

For Martin, education is integral. Martin cited an experience taking the Psychedelic-Assisted Therapy Graduate Certificate Program as conducive to appreciating cultural nuance through visiting knowledge keepers. The UBC Farm also offers workshops to support knowledge sharing for Indigenous plants in a respectful manner.

Jovel hopes that students will take it upon themselves to develop a set of personal ethics that they can apply to situations regarding Indigenous knowledge stewardship.

Both Jovel and Leung point to the OCAP principle — which represents the ownership, control, access and protection of Indigenous knowledge and rights — as a valuable strategy to assess how to respect Indigenous freedoms.

“If you take that medicine from Indigenous people, how do you give back? It doesn’t have to be money — it could be social justice, advocacy, engaging in education — creating a better life for Indigenous people.” U

Mushrooms, including hallucinogens, can represent a potent source of medicine for some Indigenous cultures.

PATRICK GILLEN / THE UBYSSEY

2SLGBTQIA+ TERMS & IDENTITIES

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH! PRIDE TRIVIA

1. Who was the first winner of RuPaul’s Drag Race?

a) BeBe Zahara Benet

b) Sutan Amrull

c) Tyra Sanchez

d) Bob the Drag Queen

2. When was the first iteration of the Pride Collective founded at UBC?

a) 1961

b) 1971

c) 1981

d) 1989

3. When was the first pride parade held?

ACROSS

1. Feminine honorific

4. Gender-neutral honorific

6. Someone with no gender identity, or very little connection with any gender identity

8. The first four letters of a word for the practice of or desire for ethical and consensual non-monogamous relationships

10. Someone who feels little or no romantic attraction to others

13. A masculine pronoun

15. An abbreviation for a term for people who identify as non-binary or do not subscribe to expected gender expressions or roles

17. The first two letters of the name of the first nationwide, 24/7 crisis and suicide prevention helpline for 2SLGBTQIA+ youth

18. A gender-neutral pronoun used in place of “his” or “her”

19. A feminine pronoun

20. Acronym for the oldest existing LGBT organization in the world, a Dutch center for 2SLGBTQIA+ advocacy

21. Someone who is only attracted to people of the same gender

22. A woman who is only attracted to other women

24. True or False: There are countless other 2SLGBTQIA+ terms and identities not reflected in this crossword

25. Abbreviation for cross-dressing, or dressing at least partially as a different gender from what you were assigned at birth

27. Maine, Maryland and Washington became the first states to legalize same-sex marriage by popular vote in 2012. A few years later, New Hampshire became the __th state to do so.

29. Initials of an American socialist, 2SLGBTQIA+ rights and anti-war activist, and co-founder of the Gay Liberation Network, one of the largest 2SLGBTQIA+ direction-action groups in Chicago.

31. The initials of a woman who was “the first and only woman, indeed the first and only American, to take up the defense of homosexual love before the general public,” according to Magnus Hirschfeld.

33. Sometimes used as a shorthand for a word for people who feel little or no sexual attraction to others

34. Someone who identifies outside of the gender binary

36. Initialism for sex reassignment surgery

37. Someone who openly and actively supports the 2SLGBTQIA+ community DOWN

2. Initialism for sex assigned at birth

3. A gender expression that contains both feminine and masculine elements

4. Masculine honorific

5. Initialism for Queer people of colour

7. Someone who knows and openly shares their identity with others

9. Someone who feels romantic attraction, but only enjoys being in romantic relationships in theory

11. Is it better to just make your best guess about someone’s pronouns if you

don’t know them, rather than asking?

12. Someone with male and female anatomy

14. People who perform femininity theatrically

16. Someone whose assigned biological sex correlates with their gender identity

18. A gender-neutral pronoun used in place of “he” or “she”

19. Initialism for a phrase often used in communities of color, meaning attraction to people of the same gender

23. The initials of the first Trans woman to be elected in the history of the French Republic.

24. Umbrella term for people whose sex assignment at birth doesn’t match their gender identity

26. First four letters of a word for someone who only experiences sexual attraction after an emotional or romantic relationship has formed

28. Love __ love.

30. Sometimes used as a shorthand for a word for people who are attracted to people of all or many different genders

32. The first three letters of the month in 2015 in which the words “lesbian,” “bisexual,” and “transgender,” were used in the president’s State of the Union address for the first time in America

33. The percentage of 2SLGBTQIA+ people who should be celebrated and accepted for who they are

35. Sometimes used as a shorthand for a word for people who are attracted to two or more genders

a) 1960

b) 1970

c) 1980

d) 1990

4. What month is the Vancouver pride parade held in?

a) July

b) September

c) August

d) February

5. Which is Vancouver’s historically gay neighbourhood?

a) Dunbar

b) Davie

c) Mount Pleasant

d) Steveston

6. The original pride flag, created in 1978, included three colours that no longer appear on the flag as it exists today. What were they?

a) Pink, turqoise and indigo

b) Dark red, turqoise and silver

c) Pink, gold and silver

d) Turqoise, indigo and silver

CROSSWORD PUZZLE