Category: Opinions

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Note to Shelf: Our Women on the Ground

Growing up in Lebanon, my sole sources of inspiration concerning the journalistic world were movies like Almost Famous and Runaway Bride.

Mostly because my proficiency in the Arabic language was not fluent enough to read a newspaper — that, and the fact that all news in Lebanon is politically affiliated with a party, and my parents always shielded me from that.

I was never interested in politics in general, but rather what politics inspires people to do — from wars, to art, to literature. I also didn’t see a future for me in journalism, because I didn’t have any female journalists to look up to in Lebanon. I erroneously thought female news anchors were a joke. In my opinion, they cared more about showcasing their newest plastic surgery fail and maintaining their perfectly blown hair, eventually making fools of themselves in political debates. At least that’s what I grew up watching — not knowing there was an entire world out there where female journalists were fearless, brave, and dying for their causes on battlegrounds.

In comes Zahra Hankir, a London-based British-Lebanese journalist, with a book that would school my judgmental, uneducated behind with Our Women on the Ground.

The book is a collection of essays written by not only women journalists, but Arab women, edited by Hankir with a foreword by the one and only Christiane Amanpour. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Amanpour, she’s been a badass journalist for the past three decades, and CNN’s chief international anchor. She’s also of Iranian origin.

To put it bluntly, as I always do, there is only one version of the Middle East everyone gets, be it from Hollywood, or good ol’ classic literature — and that is the repetitive narrative of thrill-seeking Western journalist demanding justice, who then gets kidnapped by Islamic terrorists, tortured or whatnot, released, and what do you know? A beautiful story about self-discovery is born.

And people wonder why I refused to watch the movie Beirut, but let’s not get into that again.

Sufficient to say, after growing up with countless Western testimonies about the Middle East, and its wonderful paradox, Our Women on the Ground was a breath of the freshest air.

Because I wasn’t reading about strangers judging, and depicting my land. I wasn’t rolling my eyes at how a Western man smelled the heavenly smell of man’oushe, while hiding from the incessant bombing. I wasn’t reading about a fabricated, fetishized (yes, fetishized) Middle East. I was reading about my people by my people. I was reading raw, unedited, unfiltered emotions. I was reading about all the women I wish I had met growing up — because I knew they existed. I just didn’t know where to look.

So you see, we Arabs are classified into two categories: the fun-loving, shisha-smoking belly dancers, and the Islamic suicide bombers. Both columns oppress their women. The exceptions in between always seem so eager to shed their Arab skin, that the world doesn’t have time to place them in either of those columns.

Our Women on the Ground is brilliant because it breaks those classifications completely. It does not fit in either one, and most of all, does not feed into the West’s demonization of the region. 

 

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We have to stop romanticizing serial killers

For decades, serial killers such as Ted Bundy, Jeffree Dahmer and Charles Manson have fascinated the minds of many people, but some take their interest in true crime too far.

Obsessed people often find themselves on Tumblr in a “True Crime Community,” an online space made up of mainly women who venerate killers and school shooters.

They show their obsession by creating collages of serial killer pictures in typical Tumblr style: pictures of them juxtaposed with flower crowns and transparent stickers that say “fab,” “okay wow” and other sayings that definitely do not go with men who murdered, raped, and hurt so many innocent people. These collages were very popular back in 2014-15, and this fandom has only grown and moved across different social media platforms over the years. It has recently invaded Tik Tok, with point of view videos where someone pretends to “kill” the viewer.

Last year, as reported by Kelly Weill in The Daily Beast, Brein Basarich, under the taking-lives username, was calling mass murderer Dylann Roof “precious” and threatened to kill bystanders at a club or bar – a public place she described as having a single entrance and exit. She was arrested following her threats, along with two other serial killer fans from Ohio. This proves how some don’t think of these people as criminals, but as heroes and rockstars; it shows that this extreme obsession is dangerous and harmful.

It has to end, for the sake of safety.

If you think that this is awful and not very normal or healthy, you’re not wrong. In fact, this sort of behaviour is known as hybristophilia, which is described as an “attraction to those who commit crimes,” according to the APA Dictionary of Psychology. This philia often pushes women specifically to reach out to incarcerated criminals – it is more common in women than men, according to Mark D. Griffiths on Psychology Today.

Fan mail was sent quite often to Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Jeffree Dahmer and Richard Ramirez, who were all famous killers during the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s.

There are two types of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. Passive hybristophiliacs excuse the horrifying acts that the killer committed, believing that they can change those criminals, and that they would never hurt them despite being murderers. People who exhibit this type of hybristophilia often don’t have any desire to commit crimes. Aggressive hybristophiliacs are likely to commit horrendous acts along with their criminal significant other, who often manipulate them. 

One of the biggest issues with this twisted admiration for criminals is that hybristophiliacs forget lives were taken and destroyed as a result of those crimes. Sexualizing these monsters disrespects victims and their mourning families. Family members suffer enough following the loss of someone they love and deserve better than seeing people discrediting the wickedness of these men, and sexualizing them.

No, random person on tumblr, you can’t help someone who wants to kill another human being, unless you’re a psychologist, which I doubt you are. 

Next time, before sexualizing a serial killer, remember all of the lives they took and how many people they hurt during their lifetime. There’s a reason they went to jail and it wasn’t to receive your love letters.

Feature graphic by @sundaeghost

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Michelle Williams, what do you mean “vote in your self-interest”?

Michelle Williams first won my heart not too long ago.

Her role in The Greatest Showman, more specifically her performance of “Tightrope,” embodied everything a complete hopeless romantic like myself feels when in love: faith, devotion through highs and lows, “mountains and valleys, and all that will come in between.”

The 2019 Golden Globes honoured Williams with a Best Actress in a Limited Series award for her role in Fosse/Verdon. Although I didn’t watch the show, reviews were great: Rotten Tomatoes gave it an 81 per cent rating, while IMDb had a 7.9/10 rating. Knowing her — loving her — I will say she deserved it, and that’s that!

Except that it isn’t.

Much like the popular tendency of celebrities to get political at award ceremonies, Williams took the opportunity to emphasize the importance of voting for women. She spoke beautifully about the importance of choice, and how thankful she was for being acknowledged for the choices she has made as an actress and as a person. She added that she’s grateful to “live in a society where choice exists, because as women and girls, sometimes things happen to our bodies that are not our choice.”

In a way, this is all anyone ever wants — to live where, once you look back, you recognize your own handwriting, as she put it. Now, I think it’s important to note that Williams was not at all addressing an international audience in her speech. She was specifically speaking to American women, encouraging them to employ their right to vote. Even more so, she urged women to vote in their own self-interest.

“Wait, what,” was my exact reaction. To this day I’m unsure if I misunderstood it, or she really meant it that way, but to me, “self-interest” should never be what fuels a democracy. A modern society is a collection of different people coexisting in the same place — asking each and every one of them to think of their own self-interest when it comes to matters that will unquestionably and unequivocally affect the other is not only wrong, it’s absurd. As Williams pointed out in that same sentence she preached for self-interest, “it’s what men have been doing for years.”

Since when do we want to do what men have been doing in matters of democracy and the world? I mean, two World Wars, literally countless acts of colonial violence, and abuse of power historically led by men, why would we ever want to do what they have been doing?

Women, exercise your right to vote. Do it so the world “looks a little more like us,” but also make sure that “us” isn’t just an inverted version of the selfishness and cruelty that a world led by white men has brought us. The world looks so much like men because they’ve chosen so selfishly that there was no room for otherness — instead of self-interest, how about public-interest?

 

 

Graphic by @sundaeghost

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The toxic world of body shaming

When I was in highschool, I decided to go on Weight Watchers. 

For those of you who don’t know about it, Weight Watchers is a program that helps people regulate their food intake by creating a point system for daily food consumption. Let’s see if I can remember: I think a piece of toast was two points, a handful of popcorn was three and a cup of pasta was four. I was “allowed” about 30 points a day. Essentially, it was a very problematic program for a growing, young and active girl.

As a six foot tall 15-year-old, I took up a lot more space than my dainty little friends. I wanted to be smaller because well, smaller is better. Smaller means you’ll get a boyfriend. Smaller means you’ll get a job. Smaller means you’ll look like people on television. Smaller means no one can ever make fun of you and all your problems will evaporate. Right?

A tale of an insecure teenager is nothing to write home about. If you were confident at 15, then I’m truly happy for you, but you’re also probably lying. There are a million reasons why you would feel insecure at that age, so my body issues felt temporary. In 30 years, I wouldn’t have to deal with this. I’d picture myself as a business woman with bigger things on my plate, strutting around in fancy blazers and a mature, but very hip short haircut. I thought my body was undesirable, but who didn’t at that age? I’d grow out of it.

One day I was at my friend’s house eating dinner and her mother (a blazer-wearing, short-haired queen) came down the stairs. She asked us what we thought of her new shirt. We smiled and told her she looked beautiful, and what happened next really stuck with me. She spent the next five minutes telling us how insecure she felt, saying the shirt made her look fat and ugly. I couldn’t believe it. There was no age limit to this bullshit? I was going to have to deal with this my whole life?

These questions of physical insecurity and self-esteem seem impossible to answer, but I think it all comes down to one thing: our society perpetuates the narrative that small is good and big is bad.

Lindy West, a writer and comedian, has been writing about fatness for almost 10 years. With charisma and wit, she has navigated the world as a fat activist, answering ignorant, damaging and repetitive questions about living in a larger body. According to an article she wrote in The Guardian, a recurring question she receives is, “By promoting fat acceptance, is there a risk that you are also promoting obesity and all its risks?”

West explains,

The question itself is an assault: it validates the idea that fat people’s humanity is one side of the debate, that our bodies are public property.”

Research shows that weight, contrary to popular belief, is not a health indicator. It is unacceptable and hypocritical to deny the rights of fat people by saying that this is encouraging their health problems. West writes, “If you claim to care about fat people’s health but do nothing to fight fat stigma, you are a liar.”

When my friend was in Grade 6, she had the flu and didn’t eat for 10 days. When she came to school the next week having lost weight, she received countless compliments about her body. How do you think that made her feel about how she looked before?

You might not see a link between my body insecurities and the dehumanization of fat people, but they are completely intertwined. What I need to understand is that even though my thoughts about my body are valid, the moment I voice them in hope for validation that I’m skinny or small enough, I am part of the problem. The moment I complain about my weight, I am insulting anyone around me that might be bigger than me. This is not because I’m calling them fat, but because I am alluding to the fact that, in order to be worthy and to be seen, we must be smaller.

Every time we compliment someone on losing weight, or we comment that someone looks “great” because they are smaller, we are demeaning the person they were before and anybody that’s bigger than them. It’s an implication that has demonstrated time and time again that we do not understand.

We are so invested in the idea that if we lose weight, things will get better. You might even notice that you are having an aversion to these statements right now. This is easier said than done. The notion is pervasive. The sooner we understand and attempt to push back, the better things will get because we simply cannot fight something we cannot see.

There are just so many more things to worry about. After all, we are all very busy, very important and Australia’s on fire. 

Graphic @sundaeghost

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Canada, I love you, but you can do better

Look, Canada I love you a lot, but we need to talk. I’m worried about our future.

You act like you’re number one but the facts say otherwise. The OECD (Organization for Economic Co-operation and Development) says you’re very middling: your Gross Domestic Product per person is sixteenth in the OECD family of 36 members. Worse, your social spending lags – public pension spending, family benefits, and spending on incapacity are 7th, 6th and 5th – from last. Gender earnings equity is 4th worst, household debt 9th highest, tax on personal income 7th highest and savings 8th from last. The September 2019 unemployment rate at 5.6 per cent was more than double the rates of the Czech Republic and Japan and trailed Mexico and the USA, tied at 3.5 per cent. What can I say? You’re just not number one.

And even your middling performance is precarious. Most of your trade goes to a single market – the increasingly volatile USA. You were doing well, by diversifying trade with China until you arrested Meng Wanzhou at Washington’s request, and that was that, wasn’t it? Then there are your “cash crop” industries: oil, mining and forestry that in a greener, cleaner world could disappear just as quickly as the baby seal hunt, asbestos and fur coats. Let’s face it, much of your service sector is a house of cards: real estate, financial services driven by mortgage and other consumer debt, and three levels of government.

You should be innovating like crazy to create new, green, industries but you aren’t. R&D spending lags the OECD average of 2.4 per cent and the 2019 Global Innovation Index ranked you 17th in 2019, down from 15th in 2016 (you once were in the Top 10). Although the Global Affairs website states that: “The Arctic is fundamental to Canada’s national identity,” you aren’t the world’s leading builder of icebreakers… Finland is. Agriculture? The Netherlands is the world’s second largest exporter of agricultural products. You’re number eight. According to Environment Canada, you’re the world’s third largest producer of genetically modified organisms (GMOs). You’re also the first in the world with a GMO animal product – salmon. But with much of the world GMO-averse, what on earth were you thinking?

I know, Canada, you say I worry too much and I might agree with you if you weren’t warning newcomers of the employment risks they face “…being accepted to come to Canada does not guarantee you employment in Canada in your preferred job or any other job.”

So you see Canada, it’s time for an adult conversation about our future. Trouble is, there’s little sign of that happening.

The last general election wasn’t much of an adult conversation, was it? Will the next one be any better? I wonder. For the moment I’ll have to rely on the OECD data — they’re my best bet for getting to the truth about our future.

Graphic by @sundaeghost

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The Titanic Story that was never told

Can we talk about the Titanic for a second?

You’re probably thinking I’m referring to the fact that Rose had enough space to let Jack get on that door, which could’ve saved him – but that’s not it.

What I want to talk about, or who I want to talk about is Joseph Laroche. You’re probably wondering who he is… I’m here to tell you his story.

I watched this short clip from AJ+ français a few weeks ago that completely caught me off guard.

Joseph Laroche, a Haitian engineer, was the only Black passenger on the Titanic. Having come from a well-established family, he had moved to France to study engineering at the age of 15. According to AJ+ français, he became very successful and contributed to the construction of the train line in Paris.

After a few years, he met Juliette Lafargue, a French woman who later became his wife. The couple had two daughters, Louise and Marie Anne André. However, due to a high rate of racism in France, Laroche could no longer provide for his family as it became harder for him to find a job. He and his wife were victims of criticism and discrimination because of their interracial relationship. Laroche decided it would be better for his family to go back to his homeland, Haiti, to find stability. With the help of his family and his uncle Cincinnatus Leconte, well known as Jean-Jacques Dessalines, former President of Haiti, Laroche planned his trip back home. Laroche then got four second-class tickets for the Titanic.

The only reason they took the Titanic was because the first boat they were supposed to get on would not allow children to eat with the adults.

On the night the ocean liner sank, Laroche perished, but his wife and daughters survived as he made sure they got on a lifeboat.

His body was never found.

I was truly stunned about the story, and I spoke to a friend of mine about it. She recalled seeing only one visible minority who stood out to her in the 1997 movie: a Jewish family.

Once I got to learn more about that story, I kept asking myself questions as to why this had never been openly spoken about in the media. The reality is that the contribution and the presence of visible minorities in historical events are too often swept under the rug and hidden from us. Why? Probably because anything that revolves around race and racism in history often makes people uncomfortable.

We often claim that our society is evolving and is open to diversity, but when stories similar to this one resurface, I wonder if we’ve truly progressed or we assume we have.

I believe that it’s always important to remind ourselves that representation matters, and it must not be ignored.

Laroche was a successful, Black man in a European country in times where racism was at an all-time high. He was the only Black man on the Titanic while being amongst some of the wealthiest passengers, which is worth mentioning.

Some may say ‘who cares,’ but this story is one of significance. Every story should be told, and definitely ones like Laroche’s.

I’d be tempted to say that Laroche and his wife Juliette would have made just as of a great love story for the Titanic.

 

 

Graphic @justineprovost.design

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Note to shelf: An ode to Joan Didion

Though I tend to deny it, I am definitely a judge-a-book-by-its-cover kind of person.

I most often pick up a book because I am attracted to it’s matte cover, geometric typeface, muted colors and overall minimalistic design. As a serial consumer of nonfiction, and someone who is drawn to interesting and simplistic book covers, it was about time that I delved into one of Joan Didion’s heartfelt memoirs.

My personal library is full to the brim, quite literally, as there is no more room and my books are everywhere; stacked on my night table, under my bed, on the floor near my shelf, on my desk, and in my closet, to name a few places. It consists mostly of autobiographies, memoirs, nonfiction, and a few of the classics that I always say I will read but can never seem to get into. Fiction has never quite done it for me. I guess what I look for in a book is that human aspect. Didion did not let me down.

Some might say that I am all too predictable, in that I decided to first read her renowned 2005 memoir, The Year of Magical Thinking.

Didion dances with death in the most matter-of-fact way. She is at once honest, raw, pessimistic, and truthful, offering her personal account of the impact of loss on her life. She records her thoughts, actions and mental state over the span of a year, as she deals with grief and mourning.

The writer’s life is often depicted in an unattainable and glamorous way, with many references to multiple flights from JFK to LAX and parties with famous musicians. Despite this, she manages to tackle topics that affect everyone, in a way that resonates with the reader and demonstrates that no amount of wealth can save one from the ramifications of loss.

Upon finishing the last few pages and closing the back cover of the book, I was left staggering at her eloquence and relatability. Didion left me with that “I wish I wrote that,” feeling that I am so rarely left with after reading a book.

However, I am not surprised that her work would feel me leaving this way. I first discovered Didion’s work through intensive research on the past editors of American Vogue, where Didion started her career. After stumbling upon her essay Self-Respect: It’s Source, It’s Power, I was immediately drawn to her history and her character, years before even picking up one of her novels. I aspire towards Didion’s level of journalistic and literary talent and yearn to possess a malleability that could bring my writing to anywhere from the glossy pages of Vogue, to the New York Times. At once personal and collective, her work reads like a personal memoir, but is journalistic at its core.

It is rare to find something that speaks to us on such a personal level, be it through friendships, romantic relationships, literature, or song. Didion’s words resonate with me in a way that no other person or thing has ever done before. From her heart wrenching account of life after her daughter’s passing in Blue Nights, to the exceptionally realistic helplessness you are left feeling after watching The Panic in Needle Park, Didion’s work remains raw, personal, and a perfect example of why words and writing hold such a significant place in the lives of many.

Her renowned quote “we tell ourselves stories in order to live,” truly lives up to its popularity, and most definitely resonates with me and my life. Words have been significant to me for as long as I could remember, both through good times and bad; I have finished an innumerable amount of novels, poetry books, and completed personal journals and notepads, filled with thoughts, quotes, personal essays, and short stories.

I, like Didion, and like many, have been telling myself stories in order to live. I have found comfort in her words, I have found familiarity in the echo of her voice as she recites passages from her works, be it in interviews or in the 2017 biographical documentary Joan Didion: The Center Will Not Hold. Time and time again, her poignant use of language proves the many ways in which good writing can provide one with consolation. Without a doubt, Joan Didion is the one person I would choose to invite as my celebrity dinner guest, the one famous person I would like to meet, and ultimately, the one writer who continues to remind me of why I write.

Graphic by @sundaeghost

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It’s time to stop normalizing exhaustion in university students

As I was reading the coverage of the recent Quebec Student Union (QSU) study, which found that 58 per cent of students in Quebec struggle with psychological distress, two things came to mind.

First, that this was not surprising in the least; since beginning my university studies, I’ve anecdotally heard and seen signs of stress, depression and burnout everywhere. Second, I couldn’t help but think that the recommended solutions do not address the root problem.

Among its recommendations, the QSU urged the provincial government to create a policy to improve the mental health of university students and to give schools money to offer psychological services.

Solutions that encourage “teaching students about mental health” put the responsibility on students to seek out these services. Yet there was little to no mention of the responsibility of universities to provide quality psychological services to their students. In reality, there is a clear problem with our university system.

If we want students to have improved mental health, we need to address the societal and institutional problems students are facing. We need to start questioning university as a structure.

While having more psychological support resources on campus is great, it is important to note that these are merely band aid solutions. These resources cater to students who are already distressed. This is for when the damage has already been done and only help students deal with psychological issues after they’ve already been pushed too far.

Teaching students how to manage stress is important and necessary. Although it does not replace the need for a discussion surrounding the changing demands and pressures on students. Students’ daily lives and the expectations placed on students have changed drastically in the last few decades, and I question whether university structures have adapted to this changed reality as well. Nowadays most university students work, often full-time. This may be for financial reasons; many people cannot afford university without the extra cash. Some simply work to have spare change. But many students also work because of the changing employment situation. A university degree no longer guarantees a job after graduation.

In the current competitive job market, employers are often looking for previous work experience. Students feel the pressure to find relevant work experience not only during the summer break, but also while studying. The more some students gain work experience at university, the more other students feel the pressure to do the same in order to stand out when applying for jobs. It’s a vicious cycle. I’m not saying working while studying is a bad thing. On the contrary, it’s a great way to develop various skills you wouldn’t through university alone, make connections, enjoy financial independence and many more.

The problem is that universities have not adapted to this reality in the least. Instead, they operate on the assumption that school is the sole focus of students’ lives. They assume that we have the time and luxury to focus exclusively on our ever-growing pile of assignments and readings. From the moment the semester starts, students are on a speeding train they cannot keep up with. But we are told that this is what university is; that this is normal. So when we can’t keep up with the train, we feel attacked. It doesn’t have to be this way.

I’m thinking of the university system in Germany that I had the opportunity to experience last year while on an academic exchange. Most German university students also work while studying. The key difference is that the university system has adapted to this reality. Students have slightly less class time than here, but more importantly, they have less assignments throughout the semester. Most of the time, a course has either one final exam, or a final exam with an additional midterm exam. The final exams are scheduled a few weeks after the semester ends so students have time to study. Most of the time, if a student fails the final exam, there are opportunities to retake the exam without having to retake the class. This allows students to work during the semester without being overburdened with school assignments. Students can focus on studying more heavily once their classes are already over.

It’s also important to mention that a big portion of student jobs available in Germany aren’t minimum wage cashier or cafe jobs. Most companies and institutions have several “working student” jobs that offer valuable work experience and good pay. For someone studying economics, this could mean a student job at an NGO or at a consulting company. For someone studying communications, this could mean an a job at a PR or marketing agency while studying. From my experience, students in Germany experience a far better quality of life. They actually have a work-life balance, and have time to enjoy their friendships and focus on their interests outside of university. In Quebec, if you try to balance a social life, school work and actual work, you will quickly find you are no longer sleeping enough and your (mental) health is sharply declining.

If we want students to enjoy their university experience, we need to ensure that accommodations are made for their current lifestyles. Only a minority have the privilege not to work while studying in this day and age.

 

 

Graphic by @sundaeghost

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Fake news is a meme that should die

“Fake news”—that awful, awful term is a meme that has hit its mark, proven its fitness, and is gaining traction due to misunderstanding, division and lulz that we are all guilty of spouting. We are feeding it every time we utter it.

And we should just stop using it.

Fake news generally refers to information that is false or misleading, often sensational, and masked as news. It is a term that is shouted, spouted, typed and copy-pasted a great deal. It’s even associated with a specific voice in my head—can you guess whose?

Now, when I refer to “fake news” as a “meme,” I don’t mean those tacky time-wasters we should all ignore on the internet. I’m writing about the original definition of meme as coined by Richard Dawkins in his 1976 book, The Selfish Gene.

The book itself presents the view that the gene is the agent of evolution (as opposed to the individual or the group). In the last chapter, Dawkins explores the idea of a unit of cultural evolution that works kind of similarly, though also differently. The meme, as he named it, is an idea, behaviour or style that exists in human minds and persists because of its sticking power and ability to spread. “Smoking is cool” is a meme that receives help from nicotine and the tobacco industry.

To be clear, internet memes aren’t quite the same. As Dawkins put it in a speech at Saatchi & Saatchi New Directors’ Showcase 2013 in Cannes in 2013, “instead of mutating by random chance and spreading by a form of Darwinian selection, they are altered deliberately by human creativity.” Internet memes are mere playthings for humans, and while real memes are created by humans, they evolve naturally.

Fake news is a meme in the original sense, and a strong one at that. It survives because it’s based on truth: false news is a real problem. It thrives by latching on to our fear of being lied to, the belief that people of opposing views are more likely to spread or believe lies—our fear of journalism’s demise, and the mix of humour and outrage we feel when Donald Trump uses it as a slur.

Sure, disinformation has always existed and will always exist—much like the people generating it, believing it and the journalists fighting against it. It’s a never-ending struggle. But this fake news business has gotten out of hand. It doesn’t simply exist to refer to disinformation in one form or another anymore.

The Washington Post and BuzzFeed News were among the first to use the term in October 2016 to describe how false news articles on Facebook had influenced the US elections. That put the seed in people’s minds. Then, President Trump threw an all-caps FN-bomb at CNN on Twitter in December of that year, which was the water that nurtured the meme’s growth.

Columnist Margaret Sullivan of The Washington Post actually warned us a couple of weeks later, calling the term a label that has been “co-opted to mean any number of completely different things: Liberal claptrap. Or opinion from left-of-center. Or simply anything in the realm of news that the observer doesn’t like to hear.”

To my liberal friends, stop using it ironically. To my conservative friends, stop using it so angrily. To my journalistic friends, stop using the term entirely. After this article, I will also stop using it. That’s the only way to kill a meme. Because we’re not really using it. It’s using us. Stop saying it. Stop writing it. Let it die.

 

Graphic by @sundaeghost

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All I want for Christmas is sanity

I fall head first into the consumerism trap of the holiday season every year.

My heart jumps at the first sight of twinkly lights, snowflake decorations and Christmas specials. Poking my head around a decorated Indigo, I pretend I can afford a $67 light up travel mug while browsing Gwyneth Paltrow’s new collection on how to solve all of life’s problems through drinking a green smoothie. My heart quickens. The snow hits my face and I truly feel like I’m in wonderland. As I finish exams and head to Ottawa to see my lovely family, there’s one thing I always forget — I hate the holidays.

They are stressful and that’s coming from a Jew. Afterall, Hanukkah was just branded to compete with the hype of Christmas, but that could be a whole other article — let’s try to stay on track here. For me, the holidays consist of socializing every night, draining me of my emotional and physical energy. I am squeezing people into my schedule and unintentionally leaving people out — without a moment to relax. Why doesn’t Micheal Bublé or Mariah Carey remind me about this feeling?

Personally, as somewhat of an adult living in a different city from my parents, I feel like I exist as a 20-something-year-old experimenting with her independence most of the year. That being said, the moment my foot touches my parents’ carpet, I magically transform into a bratty 16-year-old in a Disney channel movie. Clearly this page of writing is not going to fix my immature behaviour or even help me with my much needed introspection, but I do hope that if you feel even an ounce similar during the holidays, then perhaps I can help you feel less alone.

Spoiler alert — Santa isn’t real and neither is Christmas magic, a concept I have clung on to for quite a while.

I’ve come to realize that the only way I can enjoy the holiday season is by accepting it’s not going to be perfect. My mental health fluctuates from good to not so good depending on the day.

I always forget that just because it’s snowy and bells are ringing, it doesn’t mean my day has to be filled with joy. My best advice (and I’m speaking mostly to myself here) is that just like any other day, try to do things that make you feel calm and make time for yourself in the holiday madness. If you need to miss an event, or even just take a walk to avoid a loud dinner guest, do what you need to do. Your time is still your time, even during the holidays.

So, finish your candy canes, stuff yourself with leftover chocolate and let’s take on the new year, where assignments are starting and no one is telling you be a good cheer. It’s January and there will be no more rhyming.

Oh, also, if you’re a member of my family reading this (mom), remember this is about me, not you. I love you all and I hope you had an enjoyable holiday season.

 

Graphic @sundaeghost

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My skin colour does not determine my ethnicity.

In sociology, racial passing is a term defined as ‘’the ability of a person to be regarded as a member of a combination of sociological groups other than his or her own,’’ according to Enacademic.

Racial passing means passing as white. And that includes a lot of systematic privilege, especially when living in a country like Canada. But it also means part of your identity is removed. There’s a problem with people who assign a specific look, skin colour or whatever description they’ve been fed, to an entire people that is actually diverse.

It wasn’t until I was told by a close friend of mine told me about racial passing as a phenomenon that I realized that it was my life story summed up. I had unknowingly been passing as white, particularly since moving to Montreal 14 years ago. As a Venezuelan with white skin, growing up in Montreal, I can recall the surprise on people’s faces when I would speak in French with no stereotypical accent, and then speak in Spanish to my parents. People couldn’t believe that I spoke Spanish; I had to explain that I was born in Venezuela and that we had immigrated here to live a better life.

Explaining our immigration story results in a wave of unwanted questions and comments:

‘’Wow, but you’re so pale!’’

‘’How do you still know how to speak Spanish?’’

‘’Tell me something in Spanish!’’

‘’Your father’s skin is darker than yours, were you adopted?’’

and the most famous of all: ‘’oh, I could definitely tell!’’

No. You could not tell — if you could, why were you so surprised in the first place? 

The official language of Venezuela is Spanish; it’s my mother tongue. Venezuela, like much of Latin America, has a number of varying races that share the same ethnicity. This means Black and White Venezuelans alike, are simply Venezuelan, and speak Spanish. In fact, Venezuela’s population is so diverse that a graph from Britannica states that 63.7 per cent of the population is mestizo – a person with both European and Indigenous ancestry – 20 per cent is local white and 10 per cent is local black. When I lived  there, people didn’t regularly comment on skin colours, and no one was shocked to see someone with pale skin speaking Spanish. But outside of that community, from my experience, people are so immersed in their idea of what a latin person looks like, they forget there’s no one-way.

Due to my light skin tone, I can never identify myself as being a member of the latinx community without having someone scoff and bring up the fact that I am white. It’s racist to assume that only specific races belong to a specific ethnicity.

My white-skin doesn’t make me less Latina. It’s exhausting to have my identity questioned because I don’t fit some people’s idea of what a latin person looks like. It’s frankly outdated.

The fact that appearances carry such importance in our society is something that has always frustrated me, especially when my parents’ ethnicity was never doubted because their skin is a little darker than mine. Appearances are not a sole factor in determining what makes an ethnicity and nationality.

I deal with microaggressions in the form of people’s blatantly racist and ignorant comments often, which chip away at my feelings of belonging  within the hispanic community.

All minorities suffer enough racism and discrimination as it is. Let’s not divide our communities further with ignorance.

I may not be exotic or Latina enough for some people’s narrow concept of the Hispanic community, but I am Latina. 

Before asking someone who’s different than you to speak their language, or question why they look a certain way, try to get to know them as a person and treat them kindly and with respect. Just because someone doesn’t fit the mould of what an ethnicity may look like to you, doesn’t mean  they’re not part of their culture, honouring it. It’s time to stop projecting your perceived ideas and respect the person who’s from a different place when they tell you they’re from there.

 

Photo/Graphic collab: Brittany Clarke, @sundaeghost

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Do you really have to buy that?

With the holidays right around the corner, it is hard not to notice the insane amount of people flooding the main shopping boulevards.

Our compulsive shopping habits spike through the roof, hurting our wallets and wasting our time. We all feel pressured to have a gift for everyone, as if it is a sign that you care. But more often than not, we buy useless gifts just for the sake of giving a loved one something to unwrap and enjoy for two minutes on Christmas. Is this compulsiveness a sign of the decadence of today’s world? If we know this special holiday is about spending quality time with those we love, why do we keep making it about material objects?

Every time I sit at a cafe and people-watch, I realize how captivating vitrines really are and how successful marketing strategies are in fueling our consumerist behaviour. We are all victims of it, you know the drill: you pass by a shop, you stare at what they have and in less than 2 minutes you find yourself inside. Maybe you’ll buy something, maybe you won’t, but once you have been lured in, there’s no way back — you immediately start looking for something to satisfy an often unnecessary desire.

Thus, it comes as no surprise that fashion is one of the most profitable industries. According to Statista, the fashion sector in Canada alone made US $6.81 million in 2019 and has an annual growth expectancy rate of 8.3 per cent, so by 2023 the market volume will be approximately US $9.37 million.

Going shopping at this time of the year is not just expensive, it is absolute madness. In less than a few moments in a department store, you could find yourself fighting over an ugly pair of boots with a crazy lady that’s determined to get her hands on them. The funniest part is you don’t even need that extra pair of boots. Our consumerism really brings the worst out of us, and we are not doing anyone a favour; we are just contributing to the toxic industry that deteriorates our environment at the cost of fulfilling our material desires. The high levels of dopamine our brain releases when we shop only keep us high for a second. As reported by Elle, studies have shown that those who are more prone to develop shopping addiction (yes, that is an actual thing) are also more vulnerable to develop depression or anxiety.

Maybe this Christmas we should try to keep our compulsiveness at bay and get what we actually need. Before going shopping, make a list of what is absolutely necessary, stick to your budget, and restrain from overtreating yourself or your loved ones. Our material desires often keep us from appreciating those around us and what we already have in front of us, so why not try something different for a change? After all, we should be focusing on spending quality time and being cozy, rather than wasting our best energies out in the cold, consuming in ridiculous amounts. And hey, if you’re good at arts and crafts maybe you can save a few bucks this Christmas by showing off your skills. It is sustainable and memorable!

Graphic by @sundaeghost

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