They are young, and they escaped with nothing to lose and everything to gain
We were only 14 years old, living in a group home in the deserted mining town of Gardnerville, Nevada.
My mother left Nelson because he has always been a drunk. She left when I was only two years old. Whenever I asked about her, Nelson never gave me a straight answer. He was either too drunk to recall or too hurt to admit that he had no idea where she was. Nelson promised he would stop drinking after she left. But he never even tried. My mother didn’t bother to take me with her. She left me with his drunken madness.
I remember the unbearable feeling of coming home after school to our one-bedroom apartment on Melrose Avenue. Opening the door and smelling a strong stench reeking of piss and cheap beer with Nelson lying on the mattress. He would often piss himself in his sleep because he was too drunk or unconscious to make his way to the bathroom. He snored to the sound of indistinct chatter coming from the television, the soundtrack of my afternoons.
My room had a blue blanket on the floor with a picture of my mother hung up on the wall. She had gorgeous long brown curly hair with big hazel eyes. She left behind a necklace that hung over the picture. It was a gold chain with a dolphin pendant. I kept it in case she ever came back for it.
One night, when I was only eight, I woke up to the sound of heavy knocks on the door. A social worker and the police took me away from Nelson and arrested him. I haven’t seen him since. I packed the picture, the necklace and a blanket in a plastic bag and left. They brought me to a place called a group home. It felt like constantly living at school. I was always with a bunch of different kids, and I had to share everything with them. The people taking care of us would come and go. Some were nice. Others were miserable and wanted us to be miserable too. It’s weird growing up with strangers that you’re supposed to consider family.
Joey got there a year later, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. I found out that his mother was a crack addict and his father was serving time for dealing drugs. All Joey wanted was to find his younger brother, Jesse. Social workers separated them and sent his brother to another group home. Jesse was all he would talk about. “I have to protect my baby brother. I have to be there for him. I’m all he’s got,” Joey would shout out whenever he got upset with someone. He tried running away several times, but the police would always track him down. They even took his shoes so he wouldn’t run away again.
This time though, we ran away together.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I called out to Joey. “The cops are searching for us. It’s a small fucking town, we need to jet.” After months of planning and waiting for Joey to get his old shoes back, we finally escaped the group home one afternoon. I had agreed to help Joey find his baby brother.
“Fuck the cops and fuck this system. Have a beer,” Joey said as he passed me the Rolling Stone he had just stolen from a 7/11.
Joey and I headed straight to the Gardnerville bus station.
Our plan was to head to Portland. Word was that the social service people took his little brother Jesse there. I didn’t care where we went. I had nowhere to go, nothing to lose and everything to gain. I was free and lonely as hell. Freedom and loneliness combined make way for a fascinating yet destructive adventure.
All I wanted was to get the hell out of this town and never look back. The only belongings I took were the picture of my mother and her gold necklace. I hoped to find her and prove I was nothing like Nelson and that I was worthy of her love.
While waiting for the Greyhound bus, I realized how sad bus stations can be. When lost and broken souls like mine want to escape, the first place they run to is the nearest bus terminal. Before we left, I grabbed a quarter and headed towards a payphone. I took a note out of my pocket. I could hear my heart jumping out of my chest. I had a phone call to make.
“Love is about practice; it’s about learning to do it well on a daily basis,” said La Mackerel during her keynote performance lecture. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
“Love is about practice; it’s about learning to do it well on a daily basis,” said La Mackerel during her keynote performance lecture. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
Kama La Mackerel’s keynote showcased her personal journey through space and narratives
Kama La Mackerel, a multidisciplinary artist, arts facilitator, educator and community worker, was born in Mauritius, an island surrounded by the Indian Ocean. She left her homeland when she was just 18, in part because, “I was queer, and I wanted to live a queer life—something that, apparently, I could only do abroad, beyond the boundaries of the ocean that surrounded my home,” La Mackerel said.
In honour of Concordia’s first Winter Pride Week, La Mackerel presented a keynote performance lecture on March 2, titled ”There is Enough Space for our Narratives in the World.” La Mackerel performed an intimate form of spoken-word poetry and song chanting to share her life journey. She crossed oceans and continents, running away from herself and her past while searching for love and acceptance. She has many theories about why she left Mauritius. However, she insisted, “just for today, we will say that I left my parents’ house and I left the home-island because I went searching for love.”
Her quest began with a full scholarship to the University of Poona in India to study literature and philosophy. After finishing her undergrad in India, La Mackerel moved to Peterborough, Ont., with a full scholarship to complete her master’s thesis at Trent University. Three years later, she moved to Montreal and began working with the queer community.
“The queer community taught me a lot of things. It taught me a lot about sex, a lot about consent, desire or not being desired,” she said. La Mackerel co-founded Qouleur, an annual arts festival and healing space by and for Montreal-based trans artists of colour. She is also the founder and hostess of GENDER B(L)ENDER, the city’s only monthly queer open mic.
In the summer of 2017, La Mackerel launched Our Bodies, Our Stories, an arts and performance mentorship program for queer and trans youth of colour aged 16 to 24. “It’s been really meaningful for me to work with youth, and I am learning and I am being so inspired,” La Mackerel said. The program focuses on discussions through storytelling: “We come across the questions of silence, lying and the question of truth and the multiple ways in which we have been told that our truths and voices are not valid,” she said.
La Mackerel emphasized the importance of educating and empowering youth. “I am always talking about what we will be building for the next generation.” The mentorship program allows her to look back at her teenage years. “This is me speaking back to 15-year-old me and saying, ‘You didn’t have it, but the next generation will.’”
If La Mackerel’s transnational journey taught her anything, it’s that the world is more open than it seems. “There’s a lot of relationships to be built. There’s a lot of new kinship to reinvent,” she said. “Maybe there isn’t enough space for my narratives in my home, but I know now that there is enough space for my narratives in the world.”
The Enemy is a VR installation which explores the stories of six combatants from three different conflict zones in the world. Photo courtesy of Phi Centre
Journalist Karim Ben Khelifa’s virtual reality experience challenges perceptions of war
War correspondent and photojournalist Karim Ben Khelifa spent two decades travelling through conflict zones to “understand why we fight, why we kill and the circumstances that make us able to do so.” Five years ago, Khelifa had an idea. He wanted to share the stories of the fighters he met in conflict zones through a new form of storytelling: virtual reality. “As a journalist, my goal is to put you in my shoes,” Khelifa said.
He pitched this idea to Camera Lucida Productions, an augmented reality (AR) and virtual reality (VR) company in France. “[Khelifa] wanted to find a new medium instead of photography,” said Chloé Jarry, an executive producer at Camera Lucida Productions. “The medium of photography was limited in its impact—he felt that it didn’t correspond to his expectations.”
A portrait of Karim Ben Khelifa, war correspondent and photojournalist who turned his idea into a VR installation, The Enemy. Photo Courtesy of Karim Ben Khelifa.
Khelifa’s idea developed into a VR installation that took five years to finalize with the help of Camera Lucida Productions, France TV and the National Film Board of Canada, as well as Dpt., a Montreal digital studio, and the VR company Emissive. “We all got together for a big co-production for the project to be as it is today,” Jarry said.
Until March 10, Montrealers will be able to experience this VR installation, called The Enemy, at the Phi Centre. The Enemy explores the stories of six combatants in three different conflict zones around the world: the civil war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the gang wars in El Salvador and the Israel-Palestine conflict.
Before beginning the experience, participants are required to fill out a questionnaire about their views on war and their perceptions of those three conflicts. Then, you enter a secluded room, strap on a backpack, adjust your VR goggles and immerse yourself in the experiences of these six men. There are three separate rooms, each dedicated to one of the three conflict zones. In each room, you meet a combatant from opposite sides of the conflict. You hear two different perspectives of the same war.
“In listening to these men, you become a link in the long human chain seeking new perspectives. By engaging in the experience, you become both a participant and a witness,” Khelifa said.
You listen as Khelifa asks these men: What is violence? What is peace? What is your dream? Although both men in each room are enemies, their answers are similar. They value peace and family. “My dream, and what I long for, is to spend more time with my family, to see my daughter and grandkids together as a family,” said Jorge Alberto, one of the six men in The Enemy and a gang leader in El Salvador.
According to Khelifa, it was difficult for these fighters to answer many of his questions. “My goal was to touch the guy in a way for him to reveal part of his humanity,” he said.
Khelifa explained that his intent was to show each man the humanity of their enemy, since conflict tends to erase that understanding. “It becomes very interesting to see the reaction,” he said.
Hélène Adamo, a project manager for Camera Lucida Productions, experienced The Enemy during several test runs. “I could do it with my eyes closed,” she said with a laugh. However, it wasn’t until she actually answered the questionnaire about war and experienced the VR as a participant, rather than a tester, that she truly felt the emotions embedded in the installation. “I lost notion of time, space,” Adamo said. “During this experience, I met these people and, that, you cannot forget.”
The Enemy also exposes the stereotypes and biases held by the VR participants themselves. For example, as they stand between the men on either side of the conflict, participants must make the choice of whose story to listen to first. “This [choice] is based on you—your fears, your curiosity and your appetite for learning,” Khelifa said.
He added that the purpose of The Enemy is for participants to focus on the stories of the combatants. “I didn’t want to bring you to Gaza or to Israel,” Khelifa said. “I really wanted you to focus on the person, on the human beings, and discover for yourself.”
Through this project, Khelifa said he hopes people will be more considerate of one another. “If you are at war, and if you are part of these conflicts, the goal is to reconsider your enemy and think that he is more similar [to you] than you think,” he said.
Students expressed the need for a sustainable food system. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
Conversations about food justice filled the room at the fifth annual Transitions Conference
A passion for food and justice gathered people for the fifth annual Transitions Conference, organized by the Concordia Food Coalition. Workshops, discussions and film screenings dedicated to urban agriculture, food security and sustainability attracted a local and international audience from Feb. 2 to 4.
“Part of the activity today was to engage students and people from the community about how they see the food system currently, what, ideally, they would like to see [in the future] and how do we go and meet those needs,” said Erik Chevrier, a part-time professor at Concordia and PhD student focusing on food sovereignty, which is defined as the right to healthy food and a sustainable agriculture system.
Erik Chevrier, a part-time professor and PhD student at Concordia, led a group activity to develop ideas for a food sovereign campus. Photos by Sandra Hercegova.
As part of the Transitions Conference, Chevrier led group activities and events; “basically interacting with the Concordia community to develop ideas for a food sovereign campus,” he explained. Chevrier has also created an archive of all the student-run food groups at Concordia. “I’ve done close to a 1,000 interviews with people from all the different food groups,” he said. “You can see historical archives, people who founded People’s Potato and other groups, as well as people who are working there.”
On Saturday, Feb. 3, a “Food and Social Justice” workshop introduced issues plaguing our food system and potential solutions. The interactive discussion between the presenters and audience members was led by Mia Papp, an environmental science student at RMIT University in Melbourne, Australia, and Maya Provencal, a political science student at Concordia. “We are here to facilitate discussion. We just want to start a conversation on campus about how flawed the food system is,” said Provencal, who is also the outreach and engagement leader at The Dish Project, a Concordia-based group that lends out reusable dishes for events and meetings.
“As soon as I came to Montreal, I was so excited that I had actually picked a city that has all these sustainability initiatives,” said Papp, who is an Australian exchange student. What she has noticed in her time here is that “Montreal has an amazing urban agriculture scene, which we really don’t have in Australia, which is funny because we definitely have an environment that is more suited to that.”
To start off the workshop’s activities, participants compiled a list of the environmental and social problems associated with modern food systems. This list included polluted water, trade redundancies and waste, soil degradation and biodiversity loss, food insecurity and a lack of money in the agriculture industry as well as a tendency for unhealthy diets.
Students answered important questions concerning food justice around campus. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
According to Papp, the significant lack of healthy food in certain regions is attributed to “food deserts,” where there are few easily-accessible supermarkets. “What are in food deserts are usually lots of fast food restaurants—there is lots of food, but it’s all unhealthy with no access to any healthy food,” she said.
The audience members also discussed how a lack of local farming and fair trade—due to centralized food systems—makes it difficult, if not impossible, for small farmers to enter the industry. “In Quebec, there are quotas on how much needs to be [produced on farms],” Papp explained. “There are small farmers that want to get in the industry, but since they can’t make these quotas, they can’t start these farms.”
The audience was then asked a central question: What is food justice, and what would a just food system look like? Participants came up with a list of important factors: educating the community about sustainable food practices; not throwing out misshapen produce; creating more affordable food options; and consuming food responsibly—particularly seasonal eating. “We’re used to having apples all year round, but there is actually a season for them,” Papp explained.
After the audience voiced their suggestions, Provencal and Papp presented a definition of food justice: “A food system that is inclusive, community-wise and participatory without the exploitation of people, land or the environment. It identifies significant structural connectedness that exists within our food and economic systems.”
Participants then gathered in groups to discuss how different social identities are impacted by the food system. In one group was Anna Luiza Farias, a Brazilian student from São Paulo studying forest engineering. “I am interested in agriculture and food, and I thought it would be really nice to come here and meet people to see what they think,” she said.
Farias explained that the Amazon rainforest is a prominent issue for Brazilian agriculture. “In the Amazon, it is illegal to remove forest land,” she said. “But they are taking this land to use it for cattle farms because the land there is cheaper. People don’t know that this land belongs to the Amazon.”
Students and community members discussed the current eating habits around campus. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
Although the workshop focused on the roots of our flawed foot system—notably colonialism, capitalism, industrialization, exploitation and overpopulation—it also explored solutions. Participants eagerly discussed projects geared toward community restoration, reconnecting youth with food, holding ourselves accountable for our consumption choices, supporting local businesses and farms, and initiating conversations about food sustainability.
According to Papp, she has never seen a student-led conference about food anywhere before. “It’s definitely an unsexy topic, but it’s one of the most important topics because we all eat, and [our current food system] is a huge contributor to climate change in the world.”
For more information on all Concordia student-run food groups on campus, visit: www.concordiafoodgroups.ca
Stacey McKenzie is a fashion model and the founder of the Walk This Way Workshops and The Walk Camp. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
Canadian fashion model Stacey McKenzie spoke at non-profit Never Apart’s Legend Series
“You have your passion, your dreams and your goals. Even if they are telling you no, keep going for it, because you never know where it’s going to lead you,” said Canadian fashion model Stacey McKenzie.
As a young girl living in Kingston, Jamaica, McKenzie said she never thought “in a million years” her dream of being a model would come true. She was bullied and made fun of because of her looks. However, her ambition, determination, drive and self-love led her to success.
In 2015, Vogue magazine named her one of the top five Jamaican models that have changed the face of fashion. She is also a model coach and mentor on the hit reality show series America’s Next Top Model and Canada’s Next Top Model. On Jan. 25, McKenzie was invited by the Montreal-based non-profit Never Apart to speak as part of their Legend Series, which hosts interactive panel discussions with inspirational guests.
As McKenzie walked on stage in her black stilettos, beaming with positive energy, the crowd applauded enthusiastically. She began by sharing how she pursued her career and the struggles she encountered along the way.
“Do you know how many people and designers would tell me ‘Hell no’? Tons,” McKenzie said. Among them was British fashion designer Alexander McQueen. According to McKenzie, he did not initially want her to model for him, but eventually changed his mind and hired her. “Don’t let them forget you. Keep going, and let them see you,” she said.
Throughout her talk, McKenzie highlighted the importance of never giving up. She described how she would go to castings and callbacks she wasn’t invited to. In fact, that’s how she got her first Calvin Klein campaign in 1995.
“I was never sent to the casting, but I was like, Richard Avedon is going to see me today,” she said. Avedon, a renowned fashion photographer, spotted McKenzie arguing with a security guard in front of the building where the auditions were being held. “I was trying everything under the sun to get in there,” McKenzie recounted.
When Avedon asked who she was, McKenzie replied: “Mr. Avedon, I am here for the callback.” He told her he had never seen her before, to which she responded: “Well, you are seeing me now.” To her surprise, he brought her inside. When Avedon asked her what she wanted, McKenzie said: “I want the campaign.” He gave her a 10-year contract on the spot for the Calvin Klein campaign, alongside fashion model Kate Moss.
“If I would have [waited] for my modelling agency to send me to some casting where they wanted black girls or light-skin girls, I’d be starving and I would have never gotten that Calvin Klein campaign,” she said.
Aside from modelling, McKenzie has also become an activist and youth advocate. She is the founder of the Walk This Way Workshops, where she teaches aspiring models about all aspects of the industry. McKenzie also created The Walk Camp in 2013, a free two-week summer camp where she invites 25 to 30 young girls from different communities in Toronto to meet mentors from the fashion, entertainment, arts, business and education industries. Each girl is paired with a mentor who shares the story of how they got to where they are today.
“I’m super excited about it. All of this started because I had to do everything myself,” McKenzie explained. “I didn’t have someone to guide me, to mentor me. I never had that, and I’ve always wanted that. I met a few models in my journey who didn’t have that as well, and I was shocked.”
According to McKenzie, the girls at the camp are from neighbourhoods where these types of hands-on experiences and opportunities are not accessible. McKenzie said her goal is to teach the girls to love themselves.
“I want them to be empowered and to accept who they are. I want them to be inspired and to go after their dreams and goals with confidence,” she said. This is exactly what McKenzie has done herself. “I never thought I would be able to give back,” she said. “It’s the ultimate [feeling] for me.”
Dipti Gupta has been teaching for 17 years and directed the South Asian Film Festival
“During my 20s, I used to constantly read about things that were happening in India, and it made me feel extremely angry and uncomfortable,” said Dipti Gupta, an independent documentary filmmaker, researcher and multidisciplinary artist. “I wanted to do something which would lead to justice—to a fair society for all. I thought that the pen as well as the camera were two very significant and strong tools that could bring change.”
Gupta used her writing and passion for film as tools to shape her career. In the 1980s, she regularly contributed to magazines and won many writing competitions, but she said there were no university programs in India that offered courses in filmmaking or journalism at that time. While she was studying political science and commercial art at the University of Delhi, however, she met Siddharth Sanyal.
At the time, Sanyal was producing magazines under an organization called Workbench, and he took Gupta on as a proofreader. Workbench’s office was in the same building as the production company Cinemart Foundation, which produced political and socially relevant documentaries. The company was headed by documentary filmmakers Suhasini Mulay and Tapan Bose, who became inspirations to Gupta.
One of the first documentary films Gupta saw was An Indian Story (1981), a story about the suppression of civil and democratic rights in a democratic nation. Created by Mulay and Bose, the documentary focused on a series of incidents that took place between 1979 and 1980 in Bihar, India where more than 30 people on trial were blinded with acid by the police. “It made me angry and moved me no end,” Gupta said. “At 20, it made me aware of the many injustices in our world.”
An interview with Bhavna Pani. Photo courtesy of Dipti Gupta
Gupta said she was very keen to work for Mulay. “I had seen her work and had admired her immensely,” she said. Despite her ambition, Mulay was reluctant to give Gupta a job. She told her: “Do you see any other women working in this organization?” When Gupta replied that there were only men, Mulay said: “Well, then you will not survive here.”
Nonetheless, Mulay ended up hiring Gupta because “she realized that, even though I looked really scrawny and small, I had a lot of guts.” Gupta got most of her training in the field while working for Mulay and Bose. “I learned a lot while working with her. She became my mentor, and today, she is a very dear friend,” Gupta said.
In addition to giving Gupta some challenging assignments—one of which required her to travel to a remote part of Delhi to interview a Hindu fundamentalist group—Mulay was also the one who introduced Gupta to her husband. He was working as a playwright in Canada, and Gupta eventually moved to Montreal in 1991 to be with him. “When you look back in life, you realize that there was some kind of a path,” Gupta said. “All the dots connect now.” Gupta’s husband runs the Montreal theatre company Teesri Duniya Theatre, which is dedicated to producing socially and politically relevant plays. Gupta has been on the company’s board since arriving in Canada.
When she first moved to Montreal, Gupta wanted to work for Studio D, a National Film Board of Canada studio dedicated to producing women’s documentaries. Unfortunately, the studio closed in 1996 due to a lack of funding. Around that time, “there wasn’t much work for new immigrants and someone who had very little or no Canadian work experience,” Gupta said.
After working for a short time with a few documentary filmmakers, including Martin Duckworth, Gupta decided to go back to school. She completed a bachelor’s degree in communication studies and got her master’s in media studies, both at Concordia University. During her studies, Gupta had a special interest in social and women’s issues. For her 1998 master’s thesis, “Confronting the challenge of distribution: Women documentary filmmakers in India,” Gupta interviewed several female filmmakers in India about the challenges they faced.
“I focused on women who had addressed issues of poverty and violence, women who were focussing on everyday struggles in society, be it education, social injustices, gender discrimination,” Gupta said. “There were so many things happening, and that’s what inspired me to do my master’s work.”
A group photo with the committee members and organizers of the South Asian Film Festival. Photo courtesy of Dipti Gupta.
Twenty years later, these challenges are still prevalent. “I just came back from India a few days ago, and what is really sad is that not a lot has changed,” Gupta said. “People are making good films, but there is still very little funding, and today, many artists are also facing state censorship.”
After completing her master’s, Gupta began her PhD studies at McGill University in art history and communications. However, Gupta’s daughter made her realize she wanted to work in a system that would allow her the flexibility needed to take care of her child while doing research and teaching.
Gupta has now been teaching in the cinema-video-communications department at Dawson College for 17 years. She is also a part-time faculty member at Concordia where she teaches art forms of Bollywood cinema. However, she still feels sad that she never completed her dissertation at McGill, despite finishing all her course work. She said she hopes her current work may help her eventually finish it.
Gupta’s pedagogy has always focused on exploring situations or moments in history that have brought about change. “I have consciously created courses which highlight and focus on the evolution of society and the community,” she said. “I always recognize that we are ever fortunate to have an education, and we need to use this privilege to create a fair democratic society in every way.”
According to Gupta, teaching at the CEGEP level has been an extremely humbling experience. “I always remember and recognize how I was at that stage of my life as I teach these young minds. I was idealistic and had huge dreams. It is an impressionable age. Hence, we as teachers have a huge responsibility towards this age group,” Gupta said. “My focus on my teaching has always been to make sure that I can inspire students and give them tools to prepare them for their future studies and careers.”
A portrait of Dipti Gupta, an independent documentary filmmaker, researcher and multidisciplinary artist. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
At Concordia, Gupta’s art forms of Bollywood course focuses on the study of the construct of mythology—marriage, motherhood, masculinity and misogyny—within Indian cinema, especially films coming out of Mumbai. “My aim through that is to look at this particular construct and also to break certain stereotypes that exist while viewing and engaging with popular culture from India,” she explained.
Currently, Gupta is working on a new documentary film which explores these topics. “I think cinema gives us that window to explore and study the trends—after all, art imitates life and life often imitates art.”
These are ideas Gupta promotes outside of the classroom as well. For the last seven years, she has been on the organizing committee for the South Asian Film Festival. Hosted by the Kabir Cultural Centre, a charitable organization in Montreal, the festival highlights the work of South Asian filmmakers that focus on contemporary issues in India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Nepal and Afghanistan. In 2017, Gupta worked as the festival’s programming director alongside her friend and fellow director Karan Singh.
One film featured in last year’s festival that particularly stood out to Gupta was A Billion Colour Story. Directed by Mumbai-based filmmaker N. Padmakumar, the film discusses communal tensions and identity issues in India. It was voted Best Film by the festival’s audience.
“The film took my breath away—with its story, it’s beautifully composed shots and the acting,” Gupta said. “[N. Padmakumar] made one of the most incredibly humane stories I have seen on screen, and it is a must-watch.”
The work Gupta does for the south asian film festival is entirely voluntary as it is a volunteer-driven festival. According to Gupta, teaching at Dawson and being a part-time employee gives her more time to contribute to other projects, such as the festival. “I am growing older, and I am realizing the urgency to contribute as well as give back to the community that has really supported me,” she said.
Dipti Gupta alongside filmmaker N. Padmakumar.
In terms of support, as a part-time faculty member at Concordia, Gupta said she feels that the Concordia University Part-time Faculty Association (CUPFA) is supportive and generous when it comes to providing grants for research. However, the research grants are not very large. “Often, as teachers, we end up putting in our own money to pursue the work,” she said.
According to Gupta, even if part-time professors only teach one or two courses, the number of hours that one puts in to create a course, to mentor or give feedback to each student is still the same as any full-time teacher. “The sad part is that, often, we are not even sure if we will continue to teach the class the following term—so you can be putting in all this work for just one term or maybe two,” Gupta added.
According to Gupta, the vice-president of CUPFA, Lorraine Oades, has created interesting forums/micro-talks on campus for part-time faculty. “Every time we get a CUPFA grant, we come and talk about our research work and the kind of contributions we are making in our discipline,” she explained. “This is very helpful.”
Aside from the film festival and teaching, Gupta is an independent filmmaker herself. Using funding from CUPFA, she made a short documentary film in 2014 alongside Karan Singh called At Home in the World. The short film celebrates over 100 years of Indian cinema in the multicultural city of Montreal. It explores Montrealers’ love of Indian cinema and their understanding of films from that country.
Gupta said establishing connections with people has been important to her life and her success. “One encounter can create a lifetime of great bonds—that is what I have learned through this entire journey,” she said. “You just have to have love in your heart and respect for people, and you will go a long way.”
As for women who aspire to become documentary filmmakers, Gupta had one piece of advice: “The key as a filmmaker and as an artist is to identify what inspires you, what drives you. I think, in your heart, you always know.”
Growing up as a first-generation Canadian and the milestone of turning 24
In February 1990, my mother left communist Czechoslovakia for a new life. It was her first time on a plane and her first time in North America. She had dreamt about moving to North America since she was a teenager to escape communism, learn English and to be free.
She took one suitcase with her, leaving family and friends behind for the unknown that awaited her. She was 24 years old. As my mother waved goodbye to her mother at the airport, little did she know that would be the last time she ever saw her.
My mother arrived in Montreal speaking little English and no French, making it difficult to find a job. During her search, she came across a clothing store. My father was the owner and, as an immigrant from Georgia, he knew the struggle of finding your first job here. He hired her, and they started dating. A few years later, on Jan. 24, 1994, I was born. In December 1996, my father closed his stores, left us and left the country. My mother became a single mother in a foreign country without the support of a family.
I heard this story many times as a kid. Every time I heard it, I thought to myself that, one day, when I turned 24, I would want to do something just as courageous as my mother had. On the other hand, I also think about how afraid she must have been to be alone with a child, not knowing how she was going to provide for her.
Growing up as a first-generation Canadian came with its challenges. I had to go to French school and, since my mother barely spoke French and could not afford a tutor, learning French was confusing. She would use a French-to-English dictionary and then an English-to-Slovak dictionary to explain my homework to me. It seemed to take forever and, often times, we would quarrel.
I also watched my mom hustle every day and learned early on how immigrants have to work twice as hard to be recognized. She had several different jobs to ensure we had a clean place to live, food and clothes. We never had a car, but we always found a way to get around. Every day, she would get up at 6 a.m. and walk me to school. After a full day at work, she would pick me up from school at 6 p.m. and we would walk home. On the weekends, we would travel by bus for an hour and a half to get to my dance school. She would wait for me during my two-hour lesson, and then we would travel back home together. My mother showed me at a young age that anything is possible “if you’re not a lazy bum,” which is what she still says to this day.
My childhood was full of challenges that my mother and I surmounted together. She made me fall in love with life, and her work ethic inspired me to no end. According to my mother, as a child, every night before being tucked in for bed, I would tell her: “I can’t wait for tomorrow.” Tomorrow happens to be my 24th birthday, and I cannot wait to become the courageous woman my mother taught me to be.
Vintage shops of all kinds can be found at Kensington Market. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
A glimpse into my experience at NASH and the people I met along the way
The first time I heard about NASH was when I began my journey as a contributor for The Concordian over two years ago. Since then, I envisioned attending the gala and possibly winning an award—it was a nice daydream I had every now and then.
Little did I know, this daydream would become reality. This year, from Jan. 4 to 7, I attended NASH for the first time. NASH is an annual gathering of student journalists from across Canada. I got on a bus to Toronto, impatient to meet people who, like me, shared a passion for journalism.
The featured conferences and panels held by professional journalists inspired me. In particular, the “Photojournalism and Beyond” talk given by photographer, writer and interactive storyteller Laurence Butet-Roch on interactive visual storytelling gave me the urge to explore my own idea of multimedia journalism.
Owner of Ozzy’s hamburger restaurant, Ozgur Sekar, alongside his business partner, Turgay Kirbiyik, as they flip burgers and share their story. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
After her talk, I decided to follow my intuition. I left the hotel, got in a cab and headed straight to Kensington Market. The unbearable cold did not stop me; if anything, it made it more thrilling.
While walking down Kensington Avenue taking test shots, a man noticed me and said: “Take a photo of me.” I replied, “Can I?” He turned around and posed for the camera. He then happily greeted me while pointing to his T-shirt, which read “Ozzy.” His name was Ozgur Sekar and he owned Ozzy, a hamburger restaurant down the street. “Are you hungry? I’ll make you the best burger you ever had.” To this question, the answer will always be yes.
love Kensington Market and truly have a passion for cooking and making people smile,” said restaurant owner Ozgur Sekar. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
As I entered the cozy burger shack, I noticed album covers spread out on the wall, including those of David Bowie, Whitney Houston and Pink Floyd. I took photos while Sekar and his business partner, Turgay Kirbiyik, began flipping burgers on the grill. It had only been three years since Sekar arrived in Canada from Turkey and only a month since he opened this restaurant.
“As a new immigrant to Canada, you face many challenges in starting and operating a business in a vibrant city such as Toronto,” he said. “I have known my business partner since I’ve been in Canada. […] One day, we met up and committed to opening a burger restaurant, and the rest is history. I am finally living my dream.”
Another customer sat in the restaurant. His name was Michael Caligiuri. He noticed my camera and said: “You know, you don’t need a camera to take photos. We are constantly photographing with our eyes and memory.” I wholeheartedly agreed; I have always thought of our eyes as camera lenses. I replied by saying I feel technology gets in the way of our natural recording process, to which he answered: “Oh yeah, I call cell phones the self-contemplation device.” Intrigued, I asked him to join me at my table for lunch since we were both alone.
“Rest from training to gather philosophy. Which means: No rest for the praying. Thinking on my feet. Thinking with my feet. Letting my feet think.” A poem by Caligiuri. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
Caligiuri happened to be a poet. He had a notepad filled with his poetry written in bright colours which he read to me. “I don’t write poetry,” he said. “I draw letters. I make words easy to read.”
After finishing our delicious burgers, we left the restaurant and Caligiuri asked to accompany me during my photography session. I began learning about his adventurous and spiritual life and took photographs of him at the market.
Michael Caligiuri asked me what I thought about letters. I said to him: “I love them.” So, we exchanged letters on the street. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
Time was running short, as I had to return to NASH to attend more conferences. As I said goodbye to my new friend, he asked me what I thought about letters. I told him that I loved them, so he got down on the ground, pulled out a marker and paper and wrote me a beautiful letter.
Exploring Kensington Market, with its numerous cheese shops and bright, contrasting colours. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
As I was walking away, I decided to turn around and grab one more candid shot of him. Caligiuri happened to turn around at the same time which made for a great photo.
That day I learned that stories are everywhere. Sometimes we just need to put the camera down and talk to the people we are photographing.
Maison Leporem offers customized suits made from scratch with charm and elegance
In the world of classic menswear, tailored suits are often associated with older gentlemen, like Sean Connery in his role as James Bond or actor Cary Grant’s impeccable style.
Inspired by these menswear legends are two young gentlemen, 25-year-old Collins Oghor and 23-year-old Claudiu Pascalau, founders of a custom suit service called Maison Leporem. “I appreciate classical tailoring, and having an opportunity at such a young age to be involved with this industry is amazing,” Pascalau said. “You get to meet so many great people and work with people from all walks of life.”
Pascalau is a communications student at Concordia University and Oghor recently graduated from McGill University’s joint program in medicine and management (MD/MBA). “Dressing up in formal menswear is a passion of mine,” Oghor said. “Growing up with a mother who is a fashion designer, there was always that discipline that the way you dress shows that you respect wherever it is that you are going or whoever it is that you are going to visit.”
Pascalau and Oghor share their passion for menswear by making sure every gentleman looks dashing in their customized suit. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
Maison Leporem allows men in Montreal to customize their suit from scratch. This service is offered by appointment only at their showroom downtown. There, customers can meet the owners, sip some whiskey, select their desired fabrics, have their measurements taken and discuss styling details.“The first and most important part of the fitting is entertainment,” Pascalau said. “You’re not just coming to buy a suit—it’s an experience.” According to Pascalau, the majority of Maison Leporem’s clients are young professionals, either recent graduates or recently promoted and looking for a new suit. “We really want the customer to feel relaxed,” he said. “We want to get to know the customer, because it’s not just about selling someone a suit—it’s about knowing what fits their lifestyle.”
After a drink or two and some mingling, the owners get down to business. According to Oghor, the first thing the gentlemen ask their client is: “What are you going to use your suit for?” Maison Leporem offers 300 different patterns and colours to choose from. The main fabrics they use for their suits are wool, tweed, cashmere, linen and cotton.
To help the client make the right choices, Oghor said it’s important to ask the right questions. “How often do you want to use this suit? Do you want an all-year-round fabric? Do you want a winter- or summer-specific fabric?” This knowledge is crucial to creating a suit that fits the client’s needs. “We want to help you build your wardrobe,” Oghor said. Maison Leporem also offers accessories including a new collection of Italian ties as well as pocket squares, leather goods and jewelry.
An important part of the interaction in the showroom is the exchange of knowledge of menswear between the owners and their clients. According to Pascalau, when clients come in, they are not always sure what they are looking for. “Seventy per cent of the time, they are there to get your advice,” he said. “The average guy asks for a blue suit, but there are so many more [details] when it comes to a blue suit.”
“Many people are shocked to know that there are over 20 aspects [to style] in a suit,” Oghor added. “A lot of people say they never knew they could customize their suit to this level of sophistication.” Other times, clients know exactly what they want. “It’s a situation where we let the customer decide how much they want to be guided,” Oghor said.
Claudiu Pascalau, a co-founder of Maison Leporem, has a passion for menswear and loves to give advice to customers. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
For men buying their first suit, both the Maison Leporem owners suggest a timeless ensemble. Oghor recommends selecting a suit that can be worn with any colour shoe and pants, including jeans and chinos. “We recommend to start with a suit in the navy blue or grey family which is really popular these days,” he added. “We always advise people to stay away from black.”
At the end of the first appointment, Pascalau and Oghor make sure they have all of the client’s measurements. The next step is to send the order to the tailors the young men work with. “We work with a great team of tailors who have years of experience in the menswear industry,” Pascalau said. “We really try to make them understand what the client is looking for in order to have a final product that is going to be exactly what the customer had in mind.” Running a small business as young professionals isn’t easy. “You have to wear 10 different hats in one day,” Pascalau said. “I have to develop the product, meet an accountant, run to the tailor and meet clients.”
Yet, according to both gentlemen, the hard work pays off. Pascalau said the most gratifying part of a day at Maison Leporem is when the client picks up his finalized suit. “When a client puts on the suit, you can see his reaction,” he said. According to Pascalau, he and his business partner take satisfaction in being part of what is usually an important event in their clients’ lives. For Oghor, Maison Leporem is not about selling a product. “It’s about the sentiments that come from it. Making a tuxedo for a wedding or for someone’s interview for a new job—that brings us a lot of fulfillment,” he said. “It’s hard to put a dollar value to that feeling.”
To book an appointment at Maison Leporem, visitwww.maisonleporem.com or follow the business on social media @MaisonLeporem.
Stills from the opening film of the festival, Elizabeth Blue.
Four days of international films that reflect the realities of stigmatization
The Au Contraire Film Festival (ACFF) received over 300 film submissions from around the world for its fifth edition. Among those, the festival’s jury selected the top 25 films to present in Montreal from Oct. 24 to 27. “We want films that entertain, that make people aware and that educate the audience. That’s the thread of how we select films,” said Philip Silverberg, the festival’s founder.
The ACFF is an initiative of Paradis Urbain, a charity created by Silverberg and festival director Marcel Pinchevsky, along with a small team. “Our mission was to provide a stage for adults who live with persistent or chronic mental illness to rehabilitate,” Silverberg said. In an effort to expand the charity’s mission and raise money, the team developed the ACFF.
“It has now become an important event in the annual Montreal mental health continuum—the festival is there to destigmatize mental illness,” Silverberg said. The ACFF showcases international, thought-provoking films that explore mental health issues from different perspectives. “We want to screen films that will change people’s perception on mental illness,” Silverberg explained. “Our films actually reflect all the realities of stigmatization, the feelings of being afraid, ignored, devalued and rejected. The films we select demonstrate that mental illness is not a fault, it is not a weakness and it is not a lack of character.”
Stills from the opening film of the festival, Elizabeth Blue.
Over the past few years, the ACFF has acquired an international reputation. “We have attracted not only good films but the directors and producers who attend the festival,” Silverberg said. On Oct. 26, the ACFF screened a documentaries series featuring short films under the patronage of Réseau Alternatif et Communautaire des Organismes (RACOR), an association that represents nearly 100 community and alternative organizations involved in the mental health of Montrealers. One of these films was 32 Pills: My Sister’s Suicide, a documentary that showcases the life and mental illness of Ruth Litoff, the sister of the film’s director, Hope Litoff.
This years festival offered a workshop called Re-Animation Introductory Workshop which was developed, designed and delivered by Animation Therapy Ltd. Focusing on both mental and physical health as one, the workshop was delivered to interested attendees including the animation department at Concordia University, Up House and The Museum of fine arts Art Therapy department.
Unique to this year’s fifth edition of the festival, the ACFF focused one night on francophone films at an event called Soirée-Lumière. This screening put the spotlight on Quebec films, with all proceeds going towards the ACFF and Weekend Champêtres, an experimental camp program for those with persistent mental illness. Silverberg said he hopes Soirée-Lumière will become a main stay in the festival’s program.
According to Silverberg, the festival’s goal is to enlighten the audience’s perceptions of mental illness through participation and discussion. “Whoever attends our festival should be prepared to be amazed, to laugh, to cry and to learn,” he said.
Coquette en Soie’s collection features silky dresses with vibrant colours. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
The fashion runway show is expanding fashion in Canada and internationally
Supporting and facilitating the visibility of Montreal fashion designers on a national and international scale is the goal of Fashion Preview. For its eighth edition, the event gathered over 2,000 visitors from Oct. 17 to 19. “Fashion Preview, in its three days of parades and presentations of collections, allows us to discover the talents of tomorrow and to understand, through their work, the culture and the esthetics of the young people of Montreal,” said journalist Elisabeth Clauss from the magazine Elle Belgique.
To support the local industry, each edition of Fashion Preview is a thematic runway show featuring the latest creations of students from local fashion programs at Cégep Marie-Victorin, École des sciences de la gestion de l’Université du Québec à Montréal (ESG-UQAM) and LaSalle College. “The idea behind Fashion Preview is to showcase the work of up-and-coming fashion designers,” said Marie-Eve Faust, a professor at UQAM’s fashion school.
Oscar Mendoza’s models gathering at the end of his runway show. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
On Oct. 18, Fashion Preview hosted four runway shows featuring the collections of local brands, including Oneself, Coquette en Soie, Oscar Mendoza and Helmer. Oneself presented an elegant collection that approached women’s femininity with naivety and youthfulness. “It’s inspired by the 70s. It’s the contrast between the young adult and the mature adult,” said Sophie Cardinal, the designer of Oneself. “Even though, as women, we grow up, we still have this inner child within us. In this collection, I tried to point towards that aspect of women.”
This was the designer’s third collection for Oneself, and Cardinal is already anticipating a flair of colour for her upcoming summer collection. “The colours will be brighter because I find that Montreal is lacking in that area,” she said, adding that colours such as red, green and purple will be trending next summer. “I’m currently inspired by the sun and its tones. Everything that is rainbow-like and flashy because it’s in style these days.”
A model from Sonia Cardinal’s Oneself collection. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
The core of Cardinal’s designs are inspired by vintage styles. “Three quarters of my wardrobe is vintage clothing so it’s important for me to have that touch in my collections,” she said. According to Cardinal, featuring her collection at Fashion Preview took a lot of preparation. “Doing it alone, it was a lot of work, but the team here at Fashion Preview are very attentionate,” she said. For the show, Cardinal was given the freedom to choose models who fit her brand image and develop a connection with them before the event.
“It differs from the old stereotypes of mannequin girls that don’t speak or show any emotions,” she said. “Here, I was able to establish different relationships with people and be able to be open to different body types, nationalities and personalities.”
One of the models for Oneself, Fatou Alhya Diagne, told The Concordian about her experience modelling for Fashion Preview. “I already did fashion shows previously, but this was my first official one with press and media,” she said. “It was interesting to see how Oneself’s adapted diversity to their collection.” “Every time I do a show, it reminds me of how important it is to create platforms of representation in order to showcase unity and diversity of people of colour and our communities to the larger fashion industry,” Diagne said. “I’m happy that I was able to be part of this whole fashion show and to have a view of the industry from a closer perspective.”
Fashion Preview also featured several pop-up shops attendees could visit during the show’s intermissions. One of the stands featured the handmade jewelry brand Bijoux Pepine. Founder and designer Perrine Marez is already selling her jewelry in 25 stores across Canada after just one year of designing jewelry full-time. “I want to have jewelry that is made by sand, pigments and spices,” she said. According to Marez, her inspirations come from architecture, graphic art and ancient civilizations such as the Egyptians, Chinese and Aztecs. “My inspiration makes me more open to the world. It reflects my clientele that are more international,” she said.
The second runway show featured a collection of silk dresses by Montreal brand Coquette en Soie. The dresses were elegant and feminine with lots of bold colours. According to the designer, Marie-Josée Mercil, her collection respects the fair trade industry by supporting independent silk producers. Her inspiration for bold colours and creative designs stems from her years spent traveling the world.
Oscar Mendoza, a former UQAM fashion student, also presented his new collection at Fashion Preview. “My collections are the story of a dream, created in a place where reality touches the surreal,” he explained. “I try to metamorphose feelings into shapes, into textures, into ideas that will decorate people’s behaviour or be the expression tool for people’s personas.” “What is fashion for but an instrument to demonstrate who we are, to excel our own self-expression to surpass us and show the world the strong opinions we have,” Mendoza added.
Helmer’s interactive closing runway show featured men wearing sombreros. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.
Dr. Rachel Yehuda gave a talk at Dawson College on Oct. 16 about her 30 years of research in epigenetics. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
Dr. Rachel Yehuda reveals groundbreaking research on trauma and its biological risk factors
Before post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) was officially identified in 1980, little was known about the repercussions of a traumatic incident. “In general, when we talk about the effects of trauma, we are talking about a moving target,” said Dr. Rachel Yehuda. “We are talking about a dynamic process that moves and develops and changes. We are not talking about something that is static.”
Yehuda’s focus on PTSD is part of her broader research in epigenetics—the study of changes in gene expression rather than alterations to the genetic code. “Some of the epigenetic changes are inheritable, but others can occur in development in response to environmental influences and particularly in uterine influences,” Yehuda explained to an audience at Dawson College on Oct. 16.
Yehuda is a professor of neuroscience and the vice-chair of psychiatry at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai in New York City. She is also the mental healthcare patient director at the Veteran Affairs Medical Center in Bronx, N.Y. She has authored more than 250 published papers, chapters and books in the field of traumatic stress and the neurobiology of PTSD. Her epigenetics research led her to studying the children of Holocaust survivors and pregnant women who survived the 9/11 attacks. The purpose was to demonstrate how traumatic stress can be transmitted biologically to the next generation.
“I was studying the effects of stress and learning something that I thought was quite fascinating which was how stress hormones affect the brain and brain development in particular,” she said. Yehuda received her PhD in psychology and neurochemistry and her master of science in biological psychology from the University of Massachusetts Amherst, which allowed her to pursue the study of stress psychology further. While she was earning her PhD, PTSD was a relatively new diagnosis. “This was the first recognition by psychiatry that the effects of a traumatic stressor could be long-lasting,” she said. “It was a very brave thing to do because stress research didn’t really offer a paradigm for understanding this.”
In 1991, Yehuda became an assistant professor of psychiatry at the Icahn School of Medicine at Mount Sinai. “I became very fascinated with some questions after I became acquainted with the concept of PTSD,” she said. According to Yehuda, the main question on her mind was why the effects of trauma endure once a traumatic event is over. She also studied the factors that cause people to react differently to trauma “because, surely, we don’t all respond the same way,” she said. “Why do survivors feel transformed by traumatic experiences?”
According to Yehuda, when a person experiences fear, their fight-or-flight response is activated. “The startle response orients you to danger. All the things that your body might have been doing at the time of trauma—like ovulation or digesting your lunch—all these things had to slow down so that all your energy could be preserved […] to increase your heart rate, blood pressure and cause the release of adrenaline,” she said.
When the brain senses the immediate danger has passed, it sends a signal to the adrenal glands to release cortisol. This hormone has the effect of reducing the amount of adrenaline circulating in a person’s system. According to Yehuda, the more severe the stressor, the more cortisol is secreted to bring the body back to normal.
“It’s a really well-balanced system that is designed to activate and calm itself down,” she said.
What Yehuda discovered during a clinical study in 1991, however, was that Vietnam war veterans with PTSD had lower levels of cortisol in their systems at the time compared to Vietnam veterans who didn’t have the disorder. “I couldn’t understand what would explain why a trauma survivor would have low cortisol,” she said.
In an attempt to understand these results, Yehuda spoke with her postdoctoral advisor. “It can’t be the war in Vietnam,” she told him. “I grew up in a Jewish community full of Holocaust survivors, and you don’t see Holocaust survivors in mental hospitals. You don’t see Holocaust survivors being so disabled.”
His response: “Rachel, that is a testable hypothesis.”
At the beginning of her research, Yehuda came across a Holocaust survivor who had many symptoms common with PTSD. “I couldn’t help but ask her: how did you live with your symptoms for so long? Why didn’t you ever seek treatment?,” she said. According to Yehuda, only three per cent the people she studied had ever been to a mental health professional in their lives. “Her response to me was: where am I supposed to go?”
It was then that Yehuda decided to open the first clinic for Holocaust survivors at Mount Sinai with a program dedicated to their treatment. She has spent more than 30 years conducting extensive research and interviewing Holocaust survivors and their children.
“What blew me away even more was the Holocaust survivors with PTSD also had lower cortisol levels,” she said.
During this first part of her research, Yehuda found that changes in DNA function, gene expression, brain structure and function, neurochemistry, metabolism, hormone regulation and immune function are all possible effects of trauma. “All these things can persist well beyond the effects of the fight-or-flight response,” she said.
Further on in her studies, Yehuda came across literature that disputed the myth of traumatic damage to the second generation. “Interestingly, that literature came from Montreal. A lot of that literature was written by second-generation Holocaust survivors,” she said. This inspired Yehuda to ask more questions and develop hypotheses. “Do Holocaust offspring have more mental health problems? Do they show biologic alterations that reflect psychiatric vulnerability? If so, do these biological alterations transmit somehow through the experience of being raised by Holocaust survivors?,” she said.
To test her hypotheses, Yehuda decided to ask the Holocaust survivors she had initially studied if she could interview their children. What she learned from this research was that the higher levels of mental illness and low levels of cortisol in these children were caused by a biological change in their parent which occurred in response to surviving the Holocaust.
According to Yehuda, parental trauma can affect the next generation in many different ways including in utero and postnatally. Another conclusion drawn from her epigenetics study was that, when exposed to something traumatic during pregnancy, as many as three generations can be affected.
“The mother is affected, her fetus is affected and the fetuses gametes are affected. That is one way in which this exposure [to trauma] and pregnancy might have effects,” she said.
Through her research, the conclusion that trauma can be transmitted intergenerationally led Yehuda to form a new hypothesis: what gets transmitted to the offspring of trauma survivors isn’t the trauma itself, but rather the body’s solution for dealing with trauma. “I can’t prove this yet, but I think it is true,” Yehuda said. “Maybe someone in this room will prove it, because you are young and science is a great field, and we now have the tools and techniques to be able to do so.”
