Author: Emily Pasquarelli

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News

Seeking news in times of crisis: People in Canada can’t see this content

Graphic by Keven Vaillancourt / The Concordian

As an earthquake shook Morocco, Moroccan students were faced by the difficulty of finding news and support.

Yasmina May Hafiz, a Concordia third-year international student from Morocco, vividly recalls the moment she received the delayed news from her home country nearly four hours after the earthquake hit on the night of Sept. 8.

“I received a call, so I’m thinking my friend just wants to chat, and they immediately say: ‘Hey, have you called your family? Have you contacted anyone that’s in Morocco right now? There was just an earthquake,’” Hafiz said.

Taken aback, she quickly hung up the phone, entering an immediate state of panic. “I didn’t know the magnitude. I didn’t know what city it hit. I didn’t know any details,” she said.

On Sept. 8, a 6.8 magnitude earthquake struck Morocco’s Atlas Mountains before midnight, killing nearly 3,000 people and injuring thousands more. 

Canada’s recent implementation of Bill C-18, which has resulted in news content being blocked on social media, has made times of crisis even harder after Morocco’s earthquake. 

It took almost 40 minutes for Hafiz to reach her family in Casablanca, as her mother’s phone died and local cell towers were down. Her father happened to pick up while out of town in Algeria, reassuring her that her family was safe.

“I just had to calm myself down and be like, ‘Okay, I’ve talked to everyone. They’re okay. Like repeating to myself I’ve heard their voices,’” Hafiz said.

Hafiz spent the majority of her life in Casablanca, alongside her parents and younger brother. 

In 2021, at 18 years old, she moved to Montreal to study communications and cultural studies at Concordia. While this opened a new chapter in her life, it took her some time to navigate her lifestyle in the city. Part of this change required her to find a way to stay up to date with local news from her hometown.

She found herself relying on local Moroccan news outlets’ social media pages. To her, this was a perfect way to passively consume information with limited effort.

This routine didn’t last too long.

In June, Canada introduced Bill C-18, which requires big tech companies, such as Google and Meta, to compensate Canadian media organizations for using their social platforms. On Aug. 1, Meta responded to the bill by blocking most news content on Facebook and Instagram across Canada. 

For those like Hafiz, who depended on social media as her primary source of local news outside of the country, Bill C-18 created barriers that became most noticeable in times of crisis.  

Matthew Johnson is the Director of Education at MediaSmarts, a digital media literacy non-profit organization based in Ottawa. MediaSmarts defines digital media literacy as “the ability to critically, effectively and responsibly access, use, understand and engage with media of all kinds.” 

He referred to the obstacles faced by wildfire evacuees in Yellowknife this summer, who had limited access to emergency news updates on Meta’s platforms.

“That made it very difficult for many people to share what was happening to them. And in parts of Canada, where there’s limited access, in some cases to TV or radio news, it does seem as though it did have a significant impact,” Johnson said. 

These limitations may also impact those who rely on news from outside of Canada, with limited access to broadcast or print from other countries. “The real question is, what’s going to happen when and if Google starts doing the same thing?” Johnson asked. 

Johnson emphasized the importance of not putting all of one’s informational eggs in the same basket. He advised readers to curate their news sources from outside of social media platforms, ensuring to list those that they can rely on, especially in times of crisis. 

Despite Concordia students facing limited access to news on social media, they still found ways to spread information on Instagram. 

Selma Idrissi Kaitouni was raised in Casablanca and moved to Montreal last year to pursue her studies at Concordia’s John Molson School of Business. The student was in Montreal with her mother when the earthquake hit, but her father was in Marrakesh. Her family hasn’t been affected.

A few days after the earthquake, Idrissi Kaitouni and her friends came together to form a social club called the Moroccan Student Union (MSU), to advocate for those affected by the crisis. 

The club aims to become an official student group by completing the university’s registration process. “We really want to start embracing Moroccan culture at Concordia, whether it’s during Ramadan or it’s just having a safe place to be when you’re very far from home,” Idrissi Kaitouni said. 

Idrissi Kaitouni also mentioned Bill C-18’s influence on spreading awareness. When attempting to post a Canadian news article covering resources available to help those affected by the earthquake, her post was blocked by Instagram. The MSU reverted to posting donation links instead, which has been successful.

Emphasizing the importance of donating to international initiatives such as Banque Alimentaire, Idrissi Kaitouni added their link to MSU’s Instagram bio.

“I know as time will pass, less people will be talking about [the earthquake]…But Morocco will need lots of time to heal from it,” she said. 

Hafiz searched for a Morocco student club prior to the earthquake. She is grateful to see the MSU forming in support of her community.

“It’s incredible because everybody is rallying behind [us]. We saw it with the World Cup and now we saw it when it really mattered, when people needed it. I feel very, very proud to be from a country that can do that any day,” said Hafiz.

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Features

The Heart of Auschwitz: The beauty of human devotion

The Heart of Auschwitz on display at the Montreal Holocaust Museum, Emily Pasquarelli/ THE CONCORDIAN

The story of a heart-shaped birthday card that’s become an eternal symbol of resilience among Jewish women Holocaust survivors

At eight years old, Sandy Fainer played pretend as Kathy Gregory, one of her favourite characters from the 1950s American sitcom, Leave it to Beaver. One day, after watching an episode involving Kathy’s suspicions of being adopted, Sandy snooped around her house for clues to crack a similar “mystery,” as she noticed having no photographs of her with extended family. Little did she know, she would discover a piece of history hidden in her mother’s underwear drawer — and it wasn’t adoption papers.

In the palm of her hands was a heart-shaped birthday card that her mother, Fania Fainer, received for her 20th birthday on Dec. 12, 1944, when she was imprisoned in Auschwitz-Birkenau, working at the Union Werke munitions factory.

The birthday card, known as The Heart of Auschwitz, has been displayed at the Montreal Holocaust Museum since 1988. A facsimile has also made its way to The Museum of Jewish Heritage in New York City.

The artifact’s story has been featured in various forms of media around the world: the documentary The Heart of Auschwitz by Carl Leblanc, and the award-winning novel Paper Hearts, written by Meg Wiviott. 

This was no ordinary gift.

“It was the only material object that she survived [the Holocaust] with,” said Sandy. “She didn’t think it was of any interest to anybody else. But to her, it was very precious.… She kept it with her most intimate things.”

As a child, Sandy remembered being admonished for fooling around with it. “Just get your little hands off that, it’s not a toy!” she recalled her mother exclaiming. 

But for Sandy, the heart-shaped birthday card’s preservation is the most astonishing part of its journey — a “miracle,” as she put it. It’s a representation of women Holocaust victims’ solidarity and her mother’s reminder of hopefulness when she felt anguished. 

Before World War II, Fania was living in Białystok, Poland. On Sept. 1, 1939, her life changed drastically, as the Nazi regime occupied her town. 

She became a target for her ethnic identity, being labeled as the “Jew” with a yellow star badge; a dehumanizing Nazi tactic used to segregate, stigmatize, and potentially deport the Jewish population of Europe to death camps. 

One day, Fania went out in public without wearing her badge and was identified by a boy. She was  arrested by a group of German soldiers and stripped from her family for life. 

She was initially sent to the Stutthof forced labor camp, but was later deported to Auschwitz-Birkenau, where she worked in the Union Werke munitions factory.

During her time at the factory, she befriended other young women workers, such as Zlatka Pitluk.

According to the Montreal Holocaust Museum, Pitluk was born in Pruzhany, Poland in 1924. In January of 1943, the 19 year old found herself imprisoned in Auschwitz, and later transferred to work in the munitions factory. 

When Fania’s birthday came around, Pitluk planned to make her a card and a cake out of material and food found in the factory, along with the help of 19 other women workers.

The women stole materials at night for Pitluk and kept it protected— a life-threatening act of resistance they took to honour Fania’s special day, despite many not even knowing her.

The card was signed with various hopeful wishes in Polish, Hebrew, German and French.

“Freedom, freedom, freedom, wishing on the day of your birthday,” is one of many heartwarming messages written on the card and was signed by a girl named Mania.

“Zlatka risked her life to make this tiny, amazing object. Everything from the paper to the fabric, to the stitching, to the bread that she didn’t eat so she can mix it with water to make glue to stick it together …all of that was illegal,” said Sarah Fogg, a staff member at the Montreal Holocaust Museum. 

She stole orange rope to embroider the letter ‘F’ for Fania and cut a piece of her purple blouse that she wore illegally under her uniform, to fabricate the covers of the booklet.

This was yet another heroic sacrifice Pitluk made.

One day, during an inspection at the factory, she was caught and confronted for wearing the blouse under her uniform by a kapo, a woman prostitute monitoring the work line.

The teen was brutally beaten nearly to death and fell unconscious. She was woken up after being drenched with a pail of water by the prisoner functionary. 

Fogg said that Pitluk wore the purple blouse due to her allergy to the uniform’s fabric.

When Pitluk walked back to the factory line gasping for air, the women workers were crying in devastation after almost losing their dearest friend. 

“I don’t know where I got the courage because I risked my life with every single word,” said Pitluk, sobbing hysterically recalling this horrifying memory in her testimony with the Montreal Holocaust Museum in 1998. 

Pitluk’s sacrificial efforts were never forgotten and acted as a symbol of hope for Fania.

Sandy said her mother kept the booklet safely hidden for months at the camp, until she was liberated.

During a Death March, “she remembers that she kept it under her arm, in her armpit,” said Sandy.

“There were hundreds of miles and war transports and everything but, she absolutely kept it… that to me, is the most extraordinary part of the story.”

The Heart of Auschwitz has been viewed by thousands of visitors and holds a special place at the museum. Many have shared their admiration for the way it speaks to the human spirit.

“It was her friend’s birthday and she wanted to give her a gift. And I think that’s so powerful, when you think about the suffering and the persecution and the death and loss they were experiencing. Her gesture is one of such solidarity in humanity. I mean, there’s something so simple in that,” said Fogg.

Fogg referred to the countless unique stories that are attached to the card; the women who signed it, who protected it, and who made it. “This object is larger than all of us,” she added.

“You can’t take the human being out of that, you know? I mean, you can kill them physically but, spiritually, it’s harder,” said Sandy. 

And Sandy can’t thank her inner Kathy Gregory enough. 

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News

The Montreal Holocaust Museum’s lifetime preservation of survivor Marguerite Élias Quddus’ story

The importance of taking part in the future of Holocaust education

Attendees gathered at the Montreal Holocaust Museum (MHM) to test out the latest Dimensions in Testimony (DIT) exhibit, which allows one to have an almost real-life first-person interaction with a Holocaust survivor via pre-recorded video responses. 

The test exhibit, based on survivor Marguerite Élias Quddus, features a francophone interactive biography that enables conversation through a 2D interactive display. 

On Feb. 12, the museum held three free, one-hour sessions which took place from 11:30 a.m. to 2:30 p.m.

Camille Charbonneau, the museum mediator of the session, shared the initiative’s hopes in gathering over 8,000 interactions with Quddus over the next six months, to ensure the project’s accuracy. 

“It’s very important to give a voice to the people that we still have with us today,” she said.

The University of Southern California’s Shoah Foundation, an institute for visual history and education, developed the DIT project in 2010, gathering over 55,000 video testimonies of Holocaust survivors and witnesses. 

They partnered with the MHM and the Canadian Museum for Human Rights to bring their very first French-speaking survivor testimony to life and to preserve Quddus’ story of resilience.

Quddus was born in December 1936 in Paris, France. After Germany’s occupation of France in 1940, the four-year-old and her family found themselves affected by the antisemitic ruling of the Nazis and the Vichy Regime.

In 1942, her father was murdered in Auschwitz. Quddus and her sister were separated from their mother, where they spent three years hiding in convents and farms, under false identities.

The two sisters reunited with their mother after Liberation. Quddus has resided in Canada since 1967 and has devoted the last decade to speaking with thousands of students to help bring Holocaust education to future generations.

In 2013, she published and illustrated her novel, In Hiding, which is her memoir of the Holocaust. 

MHM executives took part in a five-day real-life question period with Quddus. The team recorded over thousands of interactions with the survivor. Quddus’ pre-recorded responses are in the present beta testing display. 

Charbonneau felt touched after hearing some of Quddus’ earliest childhood memories. 

“She was a child,” said Charbonneau. “She was five years old, and she had to stay in those convents with nuns… She needed to change her complete identity and religion to fit into this mold, to be considered a non-Jewish kid. She had to hide herself. That can be very traumatic for a child.” 

Claire Berger is a volunteer tour guide at the MHM and a second-generation Holocaust survivor. Her father, Emil Berger, was born in Chernivtsi, Romania, and lived in a Ghetto. 

“He remembers living in the ghetto, of course, and being hidden on a farm for six months, which saved him from being deported,” she said.

Berger enjoyed the humane, relatable aspect of conversing with Quddus.

“I love these spunky sort of retorts. I think it humanizes the fact that, you know… that they were children, just as we are,” said Berger.

As a former educator, Berger strongly believes in educating today’s younger generations about the Holocaust, especially in ways that make the most of technology.

Berger plans to take part in the future of Quddus’ interactive display, in the hopes of sharing more survivor stories, like her father’s. 

“My dad passed away 18 years ago and every week now we’re seeing in the paper all of our survivors who are aging… I feel like doing my bit to keep the memory going as much as I can,”

Berger Said.

The MHM’s beta testing of DIT is free and takes place at the museum, on the first and second Sunday of every month until July 2023. With the assistance of an animator, attendees are welcomed to ask Quddus questions at the session.

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Features

Holocaust Survivor Angela Orosz speaks on intergenerational trauma

From left to right: Andrew Fuchs, Fischel Goloig, Lisa LaFlamme, Angela Orosz. Behind, right: Patrick Bordeaux and Daniel Amar. Photo by Emily Pasquarelli // The Concordian

“I dreamt of the Germans,” says Orosz’s daughter who was conditioned to learn adulthood before she even knew the meaning of the word

When she was just three years old, Katy Orosz was sent grocery shopping on her own. Unbeknownst to her, her mother Angela was secretly following along to ensure her safety. Still, the trauma of that early push for independence lingers in Katy today.

In late January, Angela Orosz, one of the youngest Holocaust survivors, spoke at the Montreal Holocaust Museum (MHM) to discuss her daughter’s experiences with intergenerational trauma.

The event, which held an audience of 350 people, took place on International Holocaust Remembrance Day and the 78th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. 

Former Chief Anchor and Senior Editor of CTV News, Lisa Laflamme, hosted the public interview with Orosz to discuss how the genocide impacted aspects of her life, notably her motherhood.

Laflamme covered Orosz’s story on CTV News in 2020, when the two visited Auschwitz. It had been the survivor’s first time back at the concentration camp since her birth.

Orosz was born on Dec. 21, 1944, in German-occupied Poland at the Auschwitz concentration camp. She was one of few to survive the liberation that following year.

The public discussion unraveled the painful psychological impacts of the Holocaust, and Orosz explained its influence on her early parental experiences.

During the mid to late 1960s, Orosz gave birth to her daughter Katy in Budapest, Hungary. Orosz passed down many of the “survivor skills” that she learned from her mother Vera Otvos-Beins. This consisted of sending her young daughter off to go grocery shopping and take public transportation “alone.”

“She was three years old. She can’t forgive me. I taught her how to go shopping by herself. She didn’t know I was following her, but I wanted her to have that feeling that whatever is happening, she is not lost,” confessed Orosz. 

This motherly instinct to push for early independence and adulthood in her toddler reflected the trauma she endured when anticipating a recurrence of the Holocaust. 

“I think it’s understandable, given what you’ve been through, what your mother probably taught you as a little girl,” said Laflamme. The journalist sympathized with Orosz on the challenges of teaching one’s own child as a survivor. 

In August of 2016, Orosz was asked to speak about the transmission of psychological trauma from mothers to children at a psychiatric conference in Dresden. However, Orosz’ reaction to the invite involved instant denial to her repressed feelings of trauma. “I’m not going to do it, I don’t have trauma,” she said.  

Orosz went directly to her two children to ask about their thoughts on her attending the event. When she questioned her having trauma, her son had little to say. “But my daughter gave me a list to China and back, on what I did,” she jokingly stated. 

“She said, ‘Mom, are you telling me you don’t have trauma? Your whole life is the Holocaust, everything was the Holocaust. You wanted me to be strong and you made me scared. I couldn’t go to sleep because I dreamt of the Germans,’” explained Orosz. 

Sarah Fogg is a staff member at the MHM and a third-generation survivor to her two grandparents, Marek and Mara Lewkowicz, who survived the Holocaust in Balkhash, Kazakhstan and Kassel, Germany. After World War II, the young couple began a family and fled as refugees to Canada, where they started a new chapter in their lives. 

Fogg has worked with Orosz for years, and emphasized her good intent in trying to protect her daughter from potential harms after the Holocaust. 

The thought of Orosz instilling fear into her daughter at such a young age had never been her intention. “For Angi, it wasn’t from that perspective at all, she was just trying to build a safer human,” expressed Fogg.

Orosz felt strongly towards being open about her past with her children, in hopes of teaching them resilience and gratefulness. 

She referred to memories early on in her parenthood when her children would complain about something. For instance, if they disliked the meal their mother cooked for them, Orosz would reply with “you know how happy [you] would have been in Auschwitz?”.

“We were happy if water came from the faucets in Auschwitz, how could you dare to complain?” she often asked her children.

When her children were young, she juggled the task of being a novice mother while carrying the weight of being a Holocaust survivor. Orosz was also just trying her best, and many other survivors were too.

“When I think of the survivors that I know, again I can’t speak for everybody, everyone’s different, everyone has just tried their best. They came to Canada as refugees, they had to build new lives, learn new languages, new jobs, start from nothing. And I think they all just did the best they could, really,” said Fogg.

Despite never enduring trauma from the Holocaust, Fogg sympathizes with other descendants who’ve felt as though they lived within their families’ tragic stories. 

“Now that I work at the museum, I know that there’s a right way and a wrong way to bring up the history because it could be really traumatizing to talk about it, for the listener and for the survivor,” said Fogg.

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Features

Student club fills the gaps of Concordia’s mental health services

CPS office, EMILY PASQUARELLI/ The Concordian

Stronger than Stigma’s (STS) emphasis of peer-to-peer support intends on accommodating every student’s mental health needs

Concordia University’s limited staffing of the Counselling and Psychological Services (CPS) grants priority assistance to students in mental health crises, directing others towards outside psychological services. Consequently, students often face greater financial restraints and longer waiting periods.

As of Nov. 22, Brittany Dohmen-Clermont, a service assistant and secretary for CPS, stated that the school has a total of 11 active psychologists: eight at the Sir George Williams Campus and three at the Loyola Campus. 

Concordia has a student body of over 51,250 students. The low number of professionals able to offer psychiatric assistance has sparked growing concerns. 

The Concordian spoke with Marieke Glorieux-Stryckman, a first-year journalism major who, despite being qualified for and enrolled in CPS, still faces major accommodation issues. She and many other students are attending student-run mental health club events to fulfill their missing needs. 

Glorieux-Stryckman referred to the COVID-19 outbreak as a time of emotional distress for many.

“I was grieving the entire pandemic. I was grieving the time that I had lost, the trips I didn’t take, the friends I didn’t hang out with, the things I didn’t learn,” she expressed.  

Undergoing the hardships that derived from the pandemic while fighting the nerves of being a first-year university student, Glorieux-Stryckman stated that seeking therapy at the University’s CPS hadn’t been a question for her. Yet it wasn’t as easy as she anticipated.

On Sept. 9. at 9:15 a.m., she failed to book a triage appointment in time. After only 15 minutes of the desk opening its request for triage appointments, it was full. “That was kind of discouraging for me… that’s actually usually how it goes, it’s hard to even get a triage appointment,” said Glorieux-Stryckman.

Dohment-Clermont stated, “It can take up to two weeks for the triage appointment — the first appointment, it is first come first serve. Those who repeatedly ask, we do take note, and we do take note of those in crisis, and they do receive it.” Triage appointment requests open Fridays at 9 a.m. and are sent by email to office rooms, GM-300 or AD-121. CPS.info@concordia.ca.  

The following week, Glorieux-Stryckman scrambled to ensure her alarm had been set for 9 a.m. and prepared a draft email beforehand. On Sept. 16, she secured her appointment in relief, which took place shortly after. 

“One of the things that kind of freaked me out at my triage appointment was that before we started, the therapist told me ‘Oh by the way, if we see that you don’t really qualify, we might refer you to other services outside of Concordia,’” stated Glorieux-Stryckman. This appeared to go against the financial advantages of seeking therapy on campus. 

Unlike outside services, the CPS is covered by students’ health insurance tuition, which on average costs $123.33 per semester for full-time students. The CPS’ service agreement states: “The number and frequency of these appointments will depend on the client’s tailored plan for therapy.”

Given the CPS’ priority assistance to students in crisis, Glorieux-Stryckman reluctantly stated, “I’m really happy I got it but that means I’m really unwell.”

Claire Dyment, a Concordia student and president of Stronger Than Stigma (STS), the University’s undergraduate mental health club, shares similar experiences to those of Glorieux-Strykman’s. STS caters to a larger student body through its implementation of various events and resources.

Glorieux-Stryckman was told she’d receive an appointment once every other week. Instead, she has had three appointments canceled in a row without receiving proper notice or accommodations by the CPS. 

Glorieux-Stryckman began her sessions in early October and has received only 5 therapy sessions as of December 8. Considering the severity of her needs, she states that this inconsistency is lacking effectiveness.

Claire Dyment, a fourth-year psychology major, refers to her first-year stay at the campus’ Grey Nuns Residence, after moving from her hometown in Ottawa. 

She spoke about the distress she endured in the fall of 2019, as a first-year student struggling to adapt to her new lifestyle, while undergoing the student residency’s pandemic safety measures.

“I was having a hard time adapting to resident life,” said Dyment. Unimaginably, she was now living in “a weird micro society of everyone in these little rooms.”

Dyment became significantly limited to socializing and exploring her new student-life, worsening the state of her anxiety. 

Luckily enough, the residence provided a school adjustment advisor, in support of newly-arrived students who were struggling with adaptation issues. Dyment jumped on the opportunity to book an appointment, where she unraveled her stressors.

Despite exchanging a heartfelt encounter with the advisor, she felt taken aback by one of their statements.

“From our 30-minute conversation, I can tell you are not in maximum crisis and because of that, I’m not even going to direct you to mental health services because you won’t get in. You should go private.”

“From the get-go, I was so grateful that the residence had this service and then it was a halt,  like [they] will give you a bite, but you can’t have the whole sandwich,” said Dyment.

Dyment was directed to PsyMontréal, a psychological therapy service offered to CU student members of StudentCare, the Concordia Student Union (CSU) health care insurance plan. Under this plan, students pay $185, which allows them to claim up to $750 per policy year for psychiatric services, paying between $120 to $130 a therapy session. On average, students are only covered up to six sessions a year and often still sit on a lengthy waitlist. 

Shortly after Dyment sought help at the residence’s advisor, Quebec’s COVID-19 cases had exponentially risen. The residence responded to the situation by giving the students “four days’ notice to vacate residence. It was really badly managed,” said Dyment. 

This initiated an instant worry for Dyment. She, along with the other student-residents, felt pressured to not only respect the limited time frame to vacate, but to find their means of transport to do so. “Luckily, my parents were able to come pick me up in their car. But, it was definitely stressful,” stated Dyment. 

After the pandemic Dyment’s battles with anxiety haven’t stopped her from pursuing her passion for studying psychology and achieving the presidential role at STS this year. STS members consist of nine anti-stigma mental health advocate students while additionally having volunteer staff ready to help. Their open-membership platform offers students a safe place to share without fear of judgment.

Dyment is one of many students who have obtained greater benefit from peer-to-peer mental health support than those from school’s services. “This is something that makes me feel good, it makes me feel motivated, it makes me feel connected to my peers,” said Dyment. 

STS’ events strive to release students’ mental health stressors by offering a safe space on campus. The club recently hosted their annual Wine and Paint Night on Nov. 2, at Concordia’s Reggie’s Bar. The event charged a $15 entrance fee, which covered all painting supplies, food, and beverages. 

Glorieux-Stryckman was one of 72 students to attend the event. At this time, she had missed out on three CPS therapy sessions, and this gathering alleviated a period of discouragement for her. 

“She was really making a place for me,” said Glorieux-Stryckman, referring to Dyment’s welcoming demeanor. “It was so nice to know that these people were willing to support students when they needed it.”

“I felt like I could give my energy to hopefully try and make an impact for others,” said Dyment. The STS president hopes to provide this feeling of reassurance to other students in situations similar to Glorieux-Stryckman’s.

Claire Dyment, along with her fellow STS members, head back to sharing their monthly celebratory cheers after completing yet another successful mental health event. 

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Podcasts

The Check-In Podcast by Emily Pasquarelli #1 – “It wasn’t your fault”

Welcome to the Check-In Podcast, hosted by Emily Pasquarelli, a first year journalism student and a huge advocate for mental health. The Check-in Podcast will be a special series produced by The Concordian where Emily displays the importance of checking in with your close ones.

On this episode, Emily talks with Tyrelle Anasara-Diab about his experience with Quebec’s foster care system, and the effect it had on his mental health. He shares how he got through it, and the important people that helped him along the way…

Artwork by James Fay

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