Category: Opinions

Categories
Opinions

Good Witch, Bad Witch, Will She Float Or Will She Sink?

Graphic by Wednesday Laplante and Alexa Hawksworth

The history of the witch: true tales of patriarchal terror

With today’s horror movies depicting their women protagonists as helpless haunted gals, I can’t help but reflect on the true feminist horror story: the origin of the witch.

While witch hunts stopped around the 17th century in America, the fear of the witch stayed in our culture, having a particular spotlight during the spooky season.

Although the topic has now evolved into popular culture, the real history of witches is much darker.

Witches were believed to be practitioners of the Devil’s work, calling upon spirits to heal or harm others. Although sometimes — and let’s face it — they were only practicing traditional medicine or sciences, but them being women made it a crime.

It’s clear that witch hunts were targeting women: more specifically, single, widowed women, or women on the margins of patriarchal society— women who stepped outside their assigned role.

Bridget Marshall, Associate Professor in the department of English at the University of Massachusetts who studies witch trials and the history of witchcraft, believes that most witches were women because of systematic oppression.

“This is why witch trials weren’t just about accusations that today seem baseless. They were also about a justice system that escalated local grievances to capital offenses and targeted a subjugated minority,” she says.

Indeed, out of the 19 people that were convicted of witchcraft during the Salem witch trials of 1692, 14 were women and the other five were guilty by association — either a brother or husband.

So, how did these witch hunts contribute to shape the feminist movement? 

It is only in 1893 that we see a critique of how the church treated women who were suspected of being witches.

In her book Woman, Church & State, Matilda Joslyn Gage, an American suffragette, reframed the witch hunts of the 1600s as a misogynistic attempt from the Christian church and state to police women’s bodies and keep gender roles in place.

Gage’s son-in-law, L. Frank Baum, author of the famous The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, was inspired by her work to frame the character of the witch in his story in a more positive light.

The early 1960s TV show Bewitched centered around the life a white middle-class housewife, and coincides with the rise of the women’s liberation movement. The way the protagonist Samantha Stephens uses her magic around the house can be linked to early feminist arguments for agency and free will.

This set the stage in popular culture for how we view the figure of the witch now: from a clumsy Sabrina the Teenage Witch, to the clever Hermione, to the villainous comedic Sanderson sisters.

Although we can argue that most of them are portrayed as feminist icons today, we have to acknowledge that the real history behind witch hunts is rooted in patriarchal power and the fear of a woman challenging that power.

Whether by drowning or burning, marginalized women were murdered in barbaric ways under the broad crime of practising witchcraft.

I say “broad” because the offence included an array of subjects that men were also studying at the time, such as astrology, sciences, medicine, and divination.

Besides the obvious religious hysteria around women, witch hunts were also used to establish dominance in these new male-only establishments.

The crime was ultimately that of being a woman.

Categories
Opinions

Flâneurs and the art of city walking

Graphic by Wednesday Laplante

How 19th century urban explorers may be the key to rediscovering the beauty of Montreal

I never really liked walking in the city. To grow up in an urban environment meant life was fast-paced, so leisurely strolls didn’t really make sense. Instead, rationality and time management overruled any effort to enjoy where I was walking. 

A trip to the grocery store was done in haste, and school drop-offs were bundled together with errands. Even a picnic in a public park was restricted to the one hour time slot we allocated for.

This mindset continued when I moved to Montreal and started my degree. I carried over the attitude of seeing the street as a transitional space between two more important locations. 

The street carried no inherent value and was to be navigated as efficiently as possible. 

Montreal’s summer and winter weather further entrenched my desire to limit city walking. My views were firm, but change came in response to a global pandemic.

The COVID-19 pandemic brought me many sedentary days and a yearning for some sort of connection. Over the months, I looked for ways to temper my urban cabin fever. Running and cycling were fine, but the city paths I covered were still being used as mere accessories for my exercise — like an elaborate treadmill. I wasn’t really experiencing anything the city had to offer. 

It wasn’t until I learned about a certain historical group that I was inspired to connect to the urban outdoors. They were 19th century European flâneurs, and they saw the city in an entirely different light. 

The flâneur, or flâneuse, was a well-to-do individual with plenty of free time on their hands. They were known to study the many districts of Paris, London, Berlin, and Vienna in their industrial golden ages. 

They took little part in the commercial activities of the markets and stores, and aside from resting at cafés and restaurants, they withdrew from the social activity of the streets. What they did was observe. 

In maintaining anonymity, the flâneur would witness the endless theatrics that unfolded on the city scene. These observant characters were able to find limitless dramas play out through the mundane activities of city folk.

This group intrigued me, and I wondered if it would be possible to recapture their enjoyment of the city. With this in mind, I set out on a summer afternoon to see what I could find.

Keeping my head high and ears tuned, I wandered around Montreal. With shoppers and commuters out, I was sure to find the streets filled. Through the summer heat and the city smell, I slowly tuned into the sights of the downtown bustle, and with the rigorous style of the flâneurs, I took note of the city activity.

To my delight, I started to really connect with all the action around me. From construction workers to window shoppers, everything played out like elements in a great play, with everyone dutifully filling their roles. 

For example, I noted a well-dressed businessman frantically phoning an airline to reorganize his flights. By itself, this scene wasn’t particularly memorable. But when I placed his troubles into the greater context of the times — the pandemic, the re-opening economy, the difficulties of flying, and the historic commercial hub that is Montreal — they suddenly felt so immense. 

The city itself also bore energy upon closer inspection. Construction pylons, cars, a dead pigeon, pesky living pigeons, and even the many angles of light bouncing off the skyscrapers came together to create their own complete unit. They had their own worth.

What was once a cumbersome experience was now full of intensity. Whether through age, circumstance, or desperation, something in me had changed. I felt connected to the complexities of the city, and I was deeply enjoying the experience. Even in my anonymous role of observer, I was a part of the story of that given day.

I continue these walks to this day, finding new stories every time. While I don’t always walk with the same observational fervour, I’ve come to depend on strolling through the city. By putting these walks in a fresh light, they become so much more than the chore they used to be. 

Going through any given burrough and reflecting on the sheer brilliance of the action gives these spaces a whole new weight and importance. If it means budgeting more time in the day, then it’s fully worth the price.

Categories
Opinions

Palestinians deserved Netflix’s Mo

Mo/NETFLIX

Why Mo Amer’s new Netflix series is the most culturally significant thing you’ll watch this year

Mohammed Amer is a Palestinian-American comedian, and co-creator of Mo on Netflix, along with Golden Globe-winning Egyptian-American actor Ramy Youssef. 

The A24 series follows Mo Najjar as he navigates his life as a Palestinian refugee in Texas. The series is heavily autobiographical and the events are based on the experiences of Mohammed “Mo” Amer.  

In one scene, Mo puts down a bottle of olive oil on the dinner table, freshly made by his mother, Yusra. “It’s nothing like the stuff back home,” she says.

The olive oil is a piece of home in Texas, so he holds on to it everywhere he goes as he juggles the intricacies of being Muslim and Palestinian in America.

The TV we consume shape our mindsets, paired up with research and an open mind, some TV shows that shine the spotlight on Muslim and Arab communities are a good place to start. `

Mo is the representation Palestinians have been craving.

My Palestinian family and I watched it from our living room in Kuwait and have never felt more seen because finally, we got a show with accurate Arabic dialogue and relatable family dynamics. 

My family comes from a city by the coast of Palestine called Haifa, but after the occupation of Palestine my grandparents fled to Kuwait, where I was born and raised. I had grown up so far away from what I felt resonated with my identity as a Palestinian. 

Similarly, Mo’s parents were forced out of Haifa by the Isreali Defense Force (IDF), leaving them with no passports or residency anywhere. They ended up living in Kuwait, but had to leave after the Gulf War in 1990, the same war my parents endured as teenagers. 

The details of Mo’s life felt so familiar it kept my family and I enticed for all eight episodes of the series, because watching something so relatable was so gratifying. The main character is undeniably flawed, authentic, and hilarious. 

He juggles his relationship, illegal immigrant status, the weight of providing for his family, and the tragic death of his father as we watch his mental health deteriorate. Despite being a fictional character, the issues and struggles he represents are very real.

Alongside his traumatic flashbacks and nightmares caused by his father’s death, I found it insightful that an Arab character overcomes substance abuse issues on-screen. Mo develops an addiction to lean (a mixture of cough syrup and soda), shedding light on an important scope in Muslim and Arab communities that is often dismissed.

Drug addiction and substance abuse are prominent within our communities (almost everyone I know has a nicotine addiction), but cultural and religious stigma stop us from confronting the uncomfortable reality of it.

Even withdrawal symptoms are portrayed in the series, when Mo sits in the waiting room of the courthouse the day of their asylum case, sweating, vomiting, and struggling from a lack of sleep.

Yet the series remains funny and lighthearted, and comedy television seems to be the only thing that humanizes these groups to the Western world.

There is something refreshing about laughing at the jokes of a main character who resembles your cousins and uncles, and remains a Muslim Arab character who isn’t battling loss and confusion with their identity.

Unlike the familiar tropes Muslims and Arabs are confined to in the media, Mo seems to reject the common Islamophobic plotlines we have become used to.

I would compare Mo’s character to other Muslim characters in the media depicted as terrorists or victims of oppression. For example, in Netflix’s teenage drama Elite, one of the Muslim characters takes off her hijab to “liberate” herself from her religion. However, Mo refuses to distance himself from his religious and national identity. 

We have grown tired of two-dimensional and misrepresented Muslim and Arab characters. 

We must recognize that the issue with such limited representation of Palestinians in the media is that it has granted the power to the straight male diaspora to be the voice of Palestine.

The amount of screen time our communities get is what provides us our voice and platform, although we must be wary of who exactly is the face of that platform.

This leaves room for misrepresentation or misinformation. For example, Mo comments on the borders set in Palestine in 1967 after the Six-Day War.

He says, “I’d be really happy if we’d go back to 1967 borders.” This neglects the reality of Palestinians living in Palestinian territory in 1948. He refers to a time when Palestine was still actively under occupation, and Palestinians were being displaced from their homes.

It was refreshing to watch someone who speaks, eats, and prays the way I did growing up, and who carried a bottle of olive oil with him in an effort to hold onto his roots. It stressed the simplicity of taking our home with us no matter where we are.

I think we can agree that Mo is a face of Palestine, but definitely not the only one. The next step is a less Hollywood-washed, Westernized face of Palestine. One that acknowledges the struggle of Palestinians in Palestine and represents women, queer people, and stateless individuals who identify as Palestinian. Soon we will all be carrying our metaphorical bottle of olive oil everywhere we go.

Categories
Opinions

“You should sell this on Etsy!”

A small critique of the pressure to monetize your hobbies

Admit it, you’ve heard this before. Either for a friend or for yourself, you’ve at least had the thought of using talent to make extra dough.

It just makes sense: you’re putting time aside during the day to do something you love, so you might as well be paid for it. Making candles with no intention of selling them after would be, in this world, a waste of time.

After all, you already lost all the time and effort to get you to a point where your designs are good enough for profit. So why not make up for it and start a small business as soon as possible?

With the rise of social media and online businesses, everyone can have a side hustle now.

E-commerce sites like Etsy also make it easier for creatives to sell online.

In a society where we are defined by our professions, we take a chance at monetizing everything we produce.

When people introduce themselves, the first thing they usually say after their name and age is their profession. There is a sense of accomplishment in adding “small-business owner” to their resume, instead of a hobby.

However, a hobby is traditionally defined as “an activity that someone does for pleasure when they are not working.”

Essentially, that’s how our first hobbies started with after-school activities. But as we grow older, activities that require skills but don’t directly generate income tend to be put on the back-burner.

So what happens if we decide to use our leisure time to work more?

Hustle culture takes over and we feel like failures if we’re not working towards a goal.

After all, this is what we are brought up to believe in this capitalist economy where people are praised for working hard, and shamed for being lazy.

As I think about my past interests as an adult, I can’t help but realize that I tried to turn all of them into side hustles.

When I was interested in makeup, I looked up how to become a make-up artist and was ready to make that a side job.

And since I always loved to plan my friends and family’s birthday parties, everyone around me encouraged me to start an event planning business.

We are always encouraged to find a career we love. If you hate your job, you’re viewed as unsuccessful, because, as they say, “if you love your job, you won’t have to work a day in your life.”

But when you turn your passions into work, your pastimes become chores.

Work includes deadlines, customer service, stress, and putting in effort even when you don’t feel like it, whereas a hobby is a voluntary choice to put time aside to do something that makes you forget about work.

When you turn a hobby into work, you might simply not enjoy it as much.

There is also an aspect of privilege that we tend to forget about. Making money from a hobby takes talent, and in order to grow and harvest talent, you need practice.

It takes time and practice to get your hobby to a point where it has monetary value.

And in a capitalist society where time is money, not everyone can have the leisure of taking time to pursue their hobbies.

This is all a vicious cycle that makes us lose sight of the reason why we start a hobby in the first place: an escape from work.

Categories
Hear me out Opinions

Hear me out: music festivals suck

Before you hate me, I do love music.

I remember a time when I used to romanticize going to Coachella wearing a fringe vest and cowboy boots. It was 2014 and Vanessa Hudgens was considered the “queen of music Coachella” because of her (now viewed as controversial) “boho-chic” looks. 

With so many celebrities attending, music festivals seemed like the ultimate event; not only could you see your favourite artists on stage, you also had the chance of running into an A-list celebrity enjoying the music just like you.

When YouTubers started making content around Coachella, it opened the doors to the exclusivity of the event and its popularity boomed because people finally thought, “this is accessible for everyone.”

What my naive teenage self did not realize was that buying the cheaper package — which would still break the bank — would still not give me access to walk among the Kardashians of this world freely.

However, “I’m going to Coachella” became the new “I’m going to Disney World” for teens and young adults.

In early 2017 it was revealed that Coachella co-owner Philip Anschutz was found to have donated large amounts of money to anti-LGBTQ organizations, that the #CancelCoachella wave started.

At the same time, YouTubers also gave us a glimpse of the not-so glamorous aspects of music festivals.

Lately, if I do hear about Coachella on social media, it’s to criticize it.

As I’ve come to learn more about the reality of music festivals, I realize that maybe Coachella is not the best representation of what they have to offer, but I’m still convinced that my arguments can stand for most music festivals that are somewhat affordable.

When I think about music festivals, I think of music I don’t listen to. As an unashamed listener of popular music, sub-categorized by myself as “sad girl music,” I can never claim to know more than two or three artists on a roster.

Therefore, I can never relate to those infamous 🔥🔥🔥 posts on my Facebook friends’ profiles.

Since my friends tend to go to EDM festivals most of the time, the grandma in me always thinks the music will be too loud, and I have to kindly decline.

Noise aside, I can’t help but think of how hot, dirty and sweaty the crowds watching the shows are. 

Which brings me to my next point: crowds.

The main difference between music festivals and regular concerts is that most festivals take place outside.

In my mind this should sound more appealing than a concert, but the reality is the videos I’ve seen on social media only stress me out, even just watching through a screen.

With that being said, standing at 5’3” does not make me the best candidate for a good concert-viewing experience. And seeing the amount of people sitting on their friends’ shoulders makes me boil inside for the person behind them.

Finally, from what I see on my Instagram feed, everyone’s Osheaga, ÎleSoniq and Picnik Électronik posts seem to have this other thing in common: the fashion leaves much to be desired.

With the conditions I’ve outlined, you’d think that someone going to a music festival would make sure to wear a comfortable outfit. I’m tired of seeing crop tops with wrap-around strings paired with boot-leg pants and cowboy hats.

On top of having to tolerate your uncomfortable outfit, if you want to give your feet a break, you have to sit on the ground.

I don’t know about you, but I’m not flexible enough to sit with my legs crossed without it hurting too much.

And that’s if someone hasn’t stepped on my fingers yet. Or worse, spilled their beer on me.

So, why are we still doing music festivals?

The only redeeming thing about them is the opportunity to see multiple artists at once. But even at that, is it really worth it if I’ll have the worst time there?

Categories
Opinions

What is it with aesthetically pleasing notes?

Are they really worth the time and energy?

Whether you love it or hate it, back-to-school season is here. This also means that back-to-school content is flooding your Pinterest, YouTube, Instagram and TikTok accounts.

Although I love a good “tips and tricks” guide on how to be successful in school, I can’t help but notice it’s always the same advice, given by the same Type A people.

Getting ready to go back to school now is not just about making sure your pencil is sharpened, but also ensuring that all aspects of your life are in order before beginning this new chapter.

You have to clean out your work space, test out all your pens, buy new supplies, have healthy breakfast and lunch ideas ready, all to guarantee an even better student lifestyle.

Having your life organized makes sense to start the new school year, but why do we often feel the need to be so aesthetic in our organization?

In this digital age, a digital cleanse of all our unneeded documents, photos, contacts, etc., on all our devices is also necessary.

Speaking of devices, the iPad-for-note-taking craze is upon us. Maybe I’m late to the trend but I have to admit I tried it last year and it really has changed my life for the better.

My back is thanking me for carrying just a small tablet that contains all my readings and notes for five classes.

You could tell me that since people have been typing notes on their laptops for years now, what’s so special about the iPad? Well, let me tell you, the iPad has an aesthetic that the laptop doesn’t.

As someone who always liked to doodle, highlight and annotate my readings, I can do that with my iPad and still feel the satisfaction of writing on a good old piece of paper — almost.

I’m not the only iPad note-taker who will advocate for this; it’s what all the studying content online will tell you, too.

Whether it’s on their tablet or in a notebook, the experts in note-taking all have one thing in common: their notes are aesthetically pleasing.

But does looking at pretty notes really equal better studying?

In a study conducted by neurobiologists Tomohiro Ishizu and Semir Zeki, subjects were presented with visual art while they listened to music. They would then rate the songs and art pieces in order to measure whether their brain activity changed or increased once put in contact with stimuli they considered “beautiful.”

The study found that when looking at something they found beautiful, brain activity intensified for the subjects, including increased blood-flow in the medial orbito-frontal cortex, which has been associated with reward, pleasure and judgment.

So on top of just finding them pretty, looking at aesthetically-pleasing notes might give us a sense of accomplishment and reward, but this does not automatically mean we will retain information better.

A lot of the time, aesthetically pleasing notes are more than just pretty; they’re organized, detailed and colour-coded — all of which helps people to review the material better.

On the flip side, you can have detailed, organized and well-structured notes without them being aesthetically pleasing.

So why does all the studying content we see online have such a focus on aesthetics?

After reading the aforementioned study I realized that for me, it might be to feel a little sense of control in what seems like an overwhelming challenge: university.

Even though I know deep down that it doesn’t do anything for me academically, I will continue to try my best at calligraphy and highlighting my sub-titles this semester just to make me feel better.

Categories
Opinions

Opinions come and go

Internet permanence and its effects on a student journalist

 

I love writing for the commentary section every week. I fill my Notes app with article ideas about light and silly topics. I dabble in satire, and ask the real questions, like why pets with food names are inherently adorable.

 

Writing “fluff” brings me (and hopefully others) laughter and joy, which is absolutely necessary in what is often a bleak newscape. I also strongly believe that it still offers creative commentary on the world. This article is not meant to discredit the fun stuff — ‘cause after all, it’s just as important.

 

However, as I’ve noticed this trend in my own writing tendencies, I’ve been pondering whether there’s something holding me back from tackling more “serious” issues.

 

While I often don’t feel like writing about these topics, when there’s something I do feel passionately about, there’s always a voice in my head telling me that sticking to what I know will never be controversial.

 

As a 20-year-old student, I’m often scared that I don’t have enough real-life experience to comment on big world issues. When I’m researching, no matter how much reading I do, I still feel uninformed and nervous to express how I feel.

 

Although some of these sentiments can be chalked up to impostor syndrome or a valid concern of not wanting to contribute to misinformation, part of my hesitancy stems from the permanence of the internet.

 

While archives of student newspapers have always existed, the accessibility of the internet raises the stakes for student journalists who are learning and experimenting through student media.

 

Voicing my opinions on more serious topics is scary because I know that anything that I publish now will follow me for the rest of my professional career.

 

I might be proud of my writing and my arguments at this stage, but I’m worried that in the future, I might change stances or develop more nuanced perspectives. I might not necessarily want my 20-year-old opinions to be easily accessible and out there forever.

 

At times, it seems ridiculous to hold my tongue in fear of something that may very well never happen. It’s completely possible that I will stay the same in all of my convictions for the rest of my life. But, I also want to keep an open mind and learn new things that will challenge these convictions.

 

I know that I should voice my opinions and trust people to understand personal and professional growth over time, but leaving that interpretation up to others is often daunting. It’s a concern that’s new to our generation of journalists that we will have to figure out as we go.

 

In the meantime, I’m going to try not to let the concept of internet permanence scare me from speaking out when I have something valuable to add to the dialogue. I’m going to try to not be afraid of being judged for the way I present my opinions.

 

As a journalist writing for the public interest, I shouldn’t need to censor my articles in case myself or others don’t agree with me later down the road. As long as I continue to base my writing on facts, diligent research, and good intentions, I’ll be okay, right?

 

Graphics by James Fay

Categories
Opinions

Sick of the Ick?

A deep dive into the most ridiculous icks

You’re scrolling through your “For You” page when you come across a video of a woman imitating a man putting on lip balm. He purses her lips into a quasi duck-face and squints in concentration. Then, he applies the balm in sharp, equal circles, pinching the applicator with all his fingers with a fervor that seems like it could shatter the plastic.

Does this image revolt you? You might have a lip-balm-applying ick.

Though no one can pinpoint where exactly the term ick originated, like most people, I first heard it mentioned in a TikTok. Shortly after I first came across it, the word ick became a common presence in group chats and conversations where romantic prospects were being discussed.

Urban Dictionary defines an ick as “something someone does that is an instant turn-off for you, making you instantly hate the idea of being with them romantically,” which perfectly encapsulates my understanding of the word.

Icks aren’t the same as red flags — they are trivial things that really shouldn’t affect one’s perception of a romantic partner, but end up having an overpowering effect.

For that reason, icks would be a fantastic topic for a research essay! But for the sake of this article, I’m going to take a sillier route, and propose a deeper dive into the most ridiculous icks that I could find.

Using a question sticker on Instagram (my favourite and most reliable way of gathering balanced and unbiased information, of course), I asked about the most insane icks that irk my followers or people they know. The results did not disappoint.

With this data, I’ve compiled a list of the top four most ridiculous icks, along with colourful commentary on the validity and/or absurdity of the ick produced by these inconsequential actions.

Country Roads Won’t Take Her Home

It’s 2 a.m. and the bar is clearing out. Your crush is sitting with abysmal posture when “Take Me Home, Country Roads” by John Denver starts playing. They immediately shoot up and begin slurring along with a soft southern drawl. It’s haunting and glass-shattering. In my books, this ick is absolutely valid — no one wants to be taken home after that display (though perhaps I’d consider it if Denver’s ballad was swapped with a Taylor Swift banger… is that just me?). I also love that this one has a story behind it; this ick would literally never cross anyone’s mind unless it happened to them.

Jacket Challenges

Do you know when you’re trying to put on your jacket and you’ve already got one arm in the sleeve, but you just can’t get the other to go in? There’s this ridiculous flailing and shimmying that occurs which instantaneously diminishes sex appeal faster than JMSB bros will teach you about crypto. While this paints a hilarious image, this ick just completely obliterates the Montreal dating pool. We all need to wear jackets, and unfortunately, we can’t always dawn them oh-so gracefully.

Grammar-Gate

You can tell that a journalist submitted this one. To them, there’s nothing less attractive than using the wrong “their,” and they’ll probably cut you off after one too many misplaced commas. I kind of get it — I love a properly positioned semi-colon as much as the next J-school gal, but I also want to stress the difference between grammar mistakes because of not knowing or caring (ew, gross), and grammar mistakes because of a learning disability or having to write in language that’s not your mother tongue (completely understandable and DEFINITELY not an ick).

The Ping-Pong Run

There’s something intrinsically humiliating about chasing after a ping-pong ball that has fallen off the table. You feel like a puppy playing fetch, except instead of being flipping adorable, you’re lumbering, clumsy, and are meekly crawling under a radiator to grasp a tiny white orb. It’s not a cute look. It’s also pretty universal — does anyone look good chasing after a ping-pong ball? But still, nothing screams sexy about that ordeal. The only solution: don’t play ping-pong in front of your crush, unless you plan on never dropping the ball.

In short, while some icks are simply hilarious, others pinpoint things that are just gross (see: crusty pasta sauce remnants around the corner of one’s lips). Yes, icks are often superficial and silly, but they add a sense of validity to a lack of romantic attraction that helps people to better understand their preferences. But perhaps the biggest ick of all is trying to over-analyze them, so I’ll just quit while I’m ahead, and let them exist to entertain.

 

Graphic by Madeline Schmidt

Categories
Opinions

Reality TV: The Illusion of Real

Where does the “real” stop and the “fake” begin?

Reality TV is a defining facet of our era. Its emergence coincided with the beginning of television itself, and since has branched out into an innumerable amount of subgenres.

From game shows to survival shows, competition shows, dating shows, and many different variations on some sort of American family drama, each gives us a glimpse into the lives of different people. But how real are these perceived “glimpses?”

Not only are many popular reality shows scripted, directed, and heavily edited, these shows are carefully constructed to mimic a standard fictional narrative. Each episode has an overarching problem, a build-up, a climax, and a resolution.

The people that are portrayed fit into character roles that have been around since the beginning of storytelling: protagonists, antagonists, love interests, etc.

I began to question how much of the stories are fabricated.

Each show is clearly packaged in a way that makes them easy to watch, through the use of common story tropes and themes that the viewer can recognize.

This is fair enough, since most of us enjoy consuming media that does not require much critical thought or drastic change to our emotions. We watch it simply because it’s comforting.

Although we can accept that reality TV is a large part of our culture and used as a source of comfort for many people, it is important to acknowledge that reality TV is not a true representation of our reality.

Take reality TV show “Floribama Shore,” for example. A spin off of MTV’s classic “Jersey Shore,” the show features eight adults who live together in a house on the Gulf Coast. I’ve only watched the show in passing, but everything about it is ironically bad (especially the name), so much so that it reads as a parody of the original. But it’s not, and it checks all the required boxes of a reality show, and has a solid viewership.

Cast members Jeremiah Buoni and Gus Smyrnios play the roles of protagonist and antagonist respectively, with their rivalry extending through all four seasons. Smyrnios plays the black sheep of the crew, Buoni is the “hero,” who doesn’t shy away from confronting Smyrnios on his wrongdoings.  Cast member Nilsa Prowant fills the role of the sweet and pretty one, and Aimee Hall is the loud and outspoken one (you get the gist). The cast is branded as a family that, despite their differences, always make up.

We watch this in relation to our own lives, classifying the characters as their tropes and their actions on camera, and nothing more. But these are real people, and this is not how reality works, and using this as a source of comfort can be troubling to our perception of life.

Like the original, “Floribama Shore” has its fair share of drama, scandals, fights, secrets, and sex.

In fact, reality shows can only exist on the premise of ubiquitous problems. Shows like “Keeping Up With the Kardashians” and “Real Housewives” thrive off interfamilial disagreements and tumultuous friendships. Viewers would be generally uninterested in a reality show that had no conflict — so why is it that we love watching all these disagreements and in-fighting?

It can be said in this case that media must imitate real life to be of any interest to us, which is the exact purpose reality TV serves.  It capitalizes on the portrayal of our own insecurities and problems, and we consume it because it makes us comfortable with our imperfect lives.

Seeing someone make a fool out of themselves, or say something so tone deaf you choke a little just makes us… feel better.

The issue with reality TV, then, is that we perceive these people as real, as that is how they are portrayed. The stars are simultaneously characters and real people, but what we see of them is entirely constructed. By watching these shows, we accept that these people are just like us, because the lines between real and fake are completely blurred.

Although their problems might reflect on our own, the events are dramatized for the screen and therefore not a true representation of our realities. It is harmful to idolize these people for being real as they are simply an illusion of what is real.

 

Collage by James Fay

Categories
Opinions

Hot take: It’s ok to “ghost” people

Before you cancel me, hear me out – ghosting is not that deep

I hear and understand you – ghosting sucks, and it hurts. But I’m here to tell you not to take it personally.

Full disclosure, my intentions are good. I’m not trying to gaslight you or invalidate your feelings. As someone who used to take ghosting really badly, I assure you that it’s not a big deal.

As the term implies, ghosting means to act like a ghost and vanish from someone’s life, abruptly cutting off all communication with a person you’re seeing or dating with zero warning or notice. Oftentimes, when people ghost, they leave the other person on either “delivered” or “seen” on all social media.

On an Instagram poll I created last week asking my followers whether they think ghosting is ok, 54 people voted yes, and 18 people responded it wasn’t.

“People don’t owe you anything. Sometimes getting ghosted is better than having your questions answered,” said 22-year-old Oliver Ocampo.

“I think being okay and used to [being] ghosted builds character and allows you to keep in mind that people are meant to come and go,” Ocampo added.

Some may argue that leaving the person high and dry with no explanation or warning is a lack of maturity. A recurring answer from my followers is the principle of mutual respect.

“It’s not a question of owing people. It’s a question of human decency. Imagine if everyone lived their lives on the basis of ‘I don’t owe them anything.’ The world would be a toxic place,” said Dean Dadidis, a third-year biology major at Concordia University.

I’ve had my fair share of ghosting stories. I’ve been ghosted, and I’ve also ghosted.

I do believe, though, it depends on the context and the person in question. If it’s someone you don’t really know who you’ve gone on a few dates with or occasionally talked to here and there, then I think it’s fine!

From my experience, the people I’ve ghosted were guys I didn’t particularly know well or care enough to reject them formally.

The way I see it, ghosting is still a rejection. I guess it’s a more “subtle” way of letting someone know you’re uninterested.

Personally, I don’t mind either way of rejection, whether it’s the formal message or being left on “read.” Both hurt the same, and I moved on. However, I do understand some people might need closure.

“It depends on the situation, but it’s always best to say something to close the chapter,” said Laura Matheuszik, a student at Dawson College.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that if you’re in a situation where you’re being ghosted, take it with a grain of salt.

I agree and stand with Ocampo — honestly, I don’t think it’s that terrible.

Sometimes people have their own issues and can’t be bothered to let the other person know. Others are just not good at confrontation. That’s ok. That’s their problem, not yours. I’ve learned not to let it affect my self esteem or question my self-worth.

Whether or not you agree with my opinion, I hope you understand where us “ghosters” are coming from. Hence, do not let the act of being ghosted affect the way you view yourself!

Now, the question of the hour – should we normalize ghosting?

Graphic by Madeline Schmidt

Categories
Opinions

The anatomy of a girlboss scammer

The fraudulent feminist and fashion icon that is Anna Delvey

If you know about the story of Anna Sorokin, better known under the alias Anna Delvey, you probably have an opinion on her.

Her instagram comment section, full of people who either admire her or hate her, is jumping from “#DeportAnna” to “#FreeAnna.”

The Russian-German con artist and fraudster rose to fame in 2019 for going on trial after not only defrauding banks, financial institutions, and hotels by pretending to be a German heiress, but tricking New York high society into believing her scam.

After her story was made public by journalist Jessica Pressler in the New York magazine, she became an overnight sensation.

This fame also culminated into the hit Netflix series, Inventing Anna, based on the events surrounding her scamming activities and her trial.

Not only did people wonder how she got away with her crimes for so long, but they lusted after her opulent demands — some as tone-deaf as asking her defense council to hire a wardrobe stylist for her during the oh-so-famous trial.

From her designer-styled courtroom attire to her angelic and innocent-looking expression, people loved the idea of Anna Delvey because she embodied what some of us wish we could do: scam the elites.

Delvey knew what she was doing. Coupled with the fact that she coped with the stress of unpaid debts by continuing to live a life of luxury, her antics even made some of us think we must be too conservative in our side-hustles.

She did what the rest of us — trapped in a capitalist economy — choose not to do based on rationality: living in a fantasy world, where money is never a problem.

Although she was found guilty of attempted grand larceny, larceny in the second degree, and theft of services, many refuse to see her as a criminal. Instead she’s perceived as an embodiment of class struggle — she grabbed the American Dream in a chokehold, all without connections.

After all, the reason why she was able to keep up with the character of Anna Delvey for so long was the ease with which she navigated the world of the one per cent, just by knowing what to say, how to dress, who to hang out with, and where to be.

Her story pulled back the curtain of how the rich do not become successful based on natural selection but more so on the basis of whether or not one can “fit the part.”

 

Faking Old Money

She confirmed what many hypothesized about the elite: that it’s all a facade of appearances.

Delvey became one of them by seeing past what a regular person perceives wealth to be. Instead, she isolated a persona of the rich white chick that buys her t-shirts from The Row just because she can, not because it looks expensive. She saw the nonchalance and aloofness behind the rich — if you have that much money, might as well show it and don luxurious brands for people to respect you. And that’s how Anna acted.

This explains why so many of the people she scammed were embarrassed: how can a 20-something con woman with no degree and no connections screw us, big men of Wall Street in suits?

I would say, props to her for breaking through another glass ceiling.

As the character of Neff, a friend of Anna, in Inventing Anna said it best: “You are the real fucking deal.”

But not everyone could have pulled off such an act and still make a career as a #girlboss after serving her sentence.

We could easily compare Anna Delvey to the case of Elizabeth Holmes, who also was the muse of a fictional TV show, The Dropout.

Holmes was an entrepreneur in the biotechnology industry who scammed her investors into thinking her revolutionary method of blood testing could detect a person’s complete health profile, which turned out to be false.

Both of these scammers dropped out of college and were trying to pursue something bigger than themselves in fields dominated by men.

What differentiates Delvey from Holmes though, is that the victims of Delvey’s crimes were the common enemy of the average middle-class millennial: the rich.

On top of that, Delvey’s rich-girl-from-Europe-who-doesn’t-give-a-fuck style saves her from a comparison to Holmes, who claims to draw inspiration from Steve Jobs by wearing the same black turtleneck everyday.

Delvey tried to pass as an elite to scam them out of their money; Holmes tried to pass as a business tech mogul to scam the middle-class by making them trust her technology for their health.

In classic scammer fashion, both women changed their appearance, demeanor, and for Holmes, her voice, to fit their bigger agenda.

In the end, both women created characters; except Delvey’s was likable enough to grant her the respect and icon status that many grant her.

 

Collage by Catherine Reynolds

Categories
Opinions

Do famous namesakes take the cake?

James Fay

The varying implications of being named after someone famous

What belongs to you, but everybody else uses it?

Your name of course!

Through your groans from my abominable dad joke, you’ve hopefully started to think about the notions of names and naming, and perhaps how strange it is that you identify and respond to a certain mixture of sounds that your parents chose a little while back.

I’ve always found names fascinating, and I’ve been known to wonder what makes people pick certain ones over others, or how names impact the people they correspond to.

I know why my name was chosen — my first name, Talia, is a name my parents loved and was inspired by my late great-grandmother, Tilly. My middle name, Regan, is a modern take on Regina, my other late great-grandmother’s name. Both were strong and kind women who also happened to be seamstresses (a skill that is not transferable by name, let me and my embarrassing mending jobs tell you…).

My name gives me a legacy to live up to, and it made me wonder how other people feel about theirs if they’ve been named after another person.

In particular, I became curious about those who are named after celebrities or movie characters. Do they feel an urge to measure up to them? Do they become a model for their aspirations? What happens if the celebrities do something wrong?

As usual, I took to my trusty Instagram story to see what I could find.

Liza Shahin is named after Liza Minnelli, the American actress, singer, dancer and choreographer.

“They wanted a name with an L because [of] my great grandmother,” she said of her parents, who wanted to commemorate their late relative. Shahin continued on to say that her mom was the one really set on the name Liza. “She really loves [Minnelli] as an artist, and she loves Cabaret and stuff like that.”

“I would say I know more [about Minelli] than the average person our age because of my name,” Shahin said, noting that about 50 per cent of the time she introduces herself, she gets asked if she was named after the superstar.

Shahin explained that she’s never felt that there was expectation to live up to Minnelli (thankfully, since that would be a pretty tall order), but she loves that she’s named after her.

“Based on performances, she’s kind of bubbly and I can be kind of bubbly,” said Shahin when asked whether they have similar qualities. “But that’s really about it. I don’t think I’m musical, really, and that’s what she’s known for.”

“She has a song called ‘Liza with a “Z”’ and it’s all about how everybody mispronounces her name,” said Shahin. “So that is the most I feel connected to her.”

Liza Minnelli is a pretty safe celebrity to be named after, but Shahin wonders what it would be like to be named after someone more problematic. “I feel like it’s easy to be named after someone, and then, like, they do something bad,” she said.

That being said, she posits that this problem of namesakes and “cancel culture” will probably become more of an issue as we get older and name our children after celebrities, since our generation is the one that tends to do the “cancelling.”

Sam Novack has a middle name straight from the Temple of Doom, and gives some perspective on what it’s like to be named after a fictional character.

If you haven’t already guessed, Novack’s middle name is Indiana, after Indiana Jones, a fictional archaeology professor and the hero of four movies to date.

“He probably just really liked Indiana Jones,” said Novack, referring to his father and explaining that his dad got to choose a “random” name because his mom got to choose one for his sister.

“Growing up, I watched the movies with my dad and we had them all on DVD,” he said. “I really never felt so much of an attachment to it.”

Despite the lack of profound effect from having this awesome middle name, Novack explained that he did “used to really want the same kind of hat as him,” which to me is as profound as it gets.

While Alexa Toguri-Laurin isn’t named after a celebrity, she explained that she does share a name with the Amazon cloud-based voice service, which has brought up similar issues that come from celebrity namesakes.

“Some girls have either funny experiences or really disheartening experiences,” said Toguri-Laurin. “For me, I kind of get annoyed with the joke, but I kind of got used to it.”

Toguri-Laurin stressed that her attitude towards all the Alexa jokes is not the case for everyone. She mentioned a recent BBC article about parents calling on Amazon to change their product’s name because their daughters were being bullied for sharing a name with the voice service.

Amazon so thoughtfully responded by apologizing and informing the public that there are options to change the settings on their products to respond to a different name than Alexa, but that they wouldn’t abolish Alexa entirely.

While there’s no straight formula to choosing a good namesake, it’s safe to say that names are powerful — they have the ability to inspire, commemorate, and even cause pain. Personally, I’d stick to people who have already passed or fictional characters that can’t surprise you with awful actions, but that’s just me. Just please steer clear from politicians — you’ll thank me later.

Graphic by James Fay

Exit mobile version