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Don’t mess up your dress up

Halloween: the time of year that’s filled with candy, ghost stories, horror movies and haunted houses. While all this makes it spooky season, the only really spooky thing about Halloween are some of the costume choices that people make.

In my almost four years of working in a party store that turned extra Halloween-y during the month of October, I have seen a lot of things happen and a lot of things change. When I started that job at 16 years old, to be quite honest, I was not as culturally aware of what was right or wrong, or what cultural appropriation was. Working that first Halloween, I witnessed a lot of people buy some relatively inappropriate costumes: sexy geisha, Pocahontas, “gypsy,” and more.

It was during a time when people didn’t really speak out about what was right or wrong in terms of what to dress up as for the holiday. I was young and naive and, while I knew it wasn’t necessarily right, I thought “it’s just a costume,” so I didn’t say anything to those customers. Over the next three years, that definitely changed — as much as it could, and I would try to convince customers to go with an inoffensive costume while also keeping my job.

Over the following Halloweens, I’m sure there have been more times than I can remember where customers bought costumes that are homophobic, islamaphobic, promoting or presenting domestic violence, cultural appropriation, or were just plain insulting, but there is one instance that I remember vividly.

A white couple came in last minute to find costumes for a friend’s Halloween house party. They wanted to find accessories so they could be Lil’ Wayne and Nicki Minaj. When I asked how they planned on not just looking like a woman with a neon wig and a guy with a grill and a white tank top, both said they would just apply a lot of bronzer to “look black.” I was older, I was wiser, having gone to cegep where I became much more woke about social issues and, at this point I’d been working there so long I could run the place. So I told them, straight up, not to do it and it was wrong.

After explaining to them why it was wrong, I was a little shocked that they might still go through with their plan of essentially portraying blackface, despite them looking like they were in their late 20s, early 30s. Even though I grew up and became more aware of all these horrible costumes, I realized that not everyone has.

I don’t work at the store anymore, but I’m sure the same costumes that have been coming out year after year are still there. While people may become more aware of what is and what isn’t appropriate to wear as a costume — hint, someone else’s culture is not acceptable — there is blame to place on the companies and manufacturers for what comes out in stores. If people don’t realize something is inappropriate about a costume being made available to them, that’s another problem. Sure, there might be lack of education and conversation about what makes a costume offensive, but that isn’t an excuse, because it can be as simple as just asking a few people for their opinion. That being said, people that still choose to wear offensive costumes when they know they’re offensive have no real reason other than they are insensitive or have no functioning moral compass.

On that note, if you’re reading this and you’re wondering if your Halloween costume is offensive, here’s a little checklist of what you shouldn’t wear: anything to do with Indigenous people; black or brown or whatever colour face; anything that pokes fun at or promotes domestic violence, sexual harassment or assault; anything that makes fun of people with disabilities.

If you’re really unsure, literally just think of whether or not your costume’s concept has been part of any ridicule, harassment, genocide, etc. at any point in time.

And if you’re still not sure, I don’t know if you’re ready to be anything other than a cat or Superman.

Graphic @sundaeghost

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Editorial: A word about Halloween costumes

With Halloween just two days away, we at The Concordian would like to take a second to remind everyone to be mindful of their choice for costumes.

While this holiday has come to represent fun, spookiness and candy, it has also been used as a free pass to (intentionally or not) belittle certain groups of people by wearing their identities as costumes without reprimand because “it’s just a costume,” or “it’s not supposed to be offensive.”

For starters, privileged people shouldn’t get to decide what is and isn’t offensive. Second of all, the impact people face as a result of their identity being reduced to a costume carries more weight than whatever the intent was.

Another person’s identity just… Isn’t a costume.

A little louder for the people in the back?

Another person’s identity is not a costume.

Seriously, guys, even Fox News gets this.

If you have to ask yourself “is this offensive?” the answer is probably yes.

Some inoffensive yet marvellous suggestions include, but are not limited to: CRAZY FROG, A COCA COLA BOTTLE, SHAWN MENDES, A CRAYON, YOUR FAVOURITE FROZEN CHARACTER, A LIZARD, OUR EDITOR-IN-CHIEF’S DOG, OUR CREATIVE DIRECTOR’S CAT…

You get the point. Literally anything that isn’t borrowing a person’s identity for a day without considering the systemic struggles they face, or reducing that identity to one stereotypical symbol.

 

Graphic Jenny Kwan

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Don’t touch my hair, don’t speak on my behalf

We must avoid generalizing and include specific people in discussions about race

“Can I touch your hair?”

I don’t think I’ve ever asked anyone that question in my life, and I have a very hard time imagining a situation where I would. I’ve never walked up to a total stranger or someone I barely knew in a bar, at school, or at the water cooler at work, and asked them if I could touch the hair on their head, with my fingers eagerly stretched outwards.

It sounds absolutely disgusting to me, yet it is a question I am asked a minimum of once a week, and that’s just because I wear a toque most of the time.

Yes, as you must have guessed, I am black, with long, beautiful, natural hair. Locs to be exact (not dreadlocks, because there is nothing dreadful about them), and yes, the people requesting to touch them are typically white. After politely saying no, I am usually asked insulting, but amusing questions like: “So you don’t wash your hair to get it like that, right?” Or, “Do you have any weed?”

Black people’s hair has always seemed to be a fascination for some white people. Some seem amused, and others puzzled by it: wanting to touch it, asking questions about it, and even sometimes attempting to emulate it. And some seem to fear it: wanting us to shave it off, cover it, or straighten it, wanting it to mimic theirs so that they feel more comfortable when we’re around.

Luckily, in Canada, we don’t seem to hear as many stories of discrimination against natural black hairstyles like in the United States, where their justice system found it legal for Catastrophe Management Solutions to rescind Chastity Jones’s job offer because she didn’t comply to their grooming policy, which is supposedly “unrelated to race,” by having locs. Or, where recently, Andrew Johnson, a high school varsity athlete, was forced to cut off his locs or forfeit a wrestling match.

Last month, a comedian was told he couldn’t perform at a comedy bar ironically titled “Snowflake Comedy Club.” He also couldn’t perform at another event held at the Coop Les Récoltes, a bar and solidarity co-operative operated by Université du Québec à Montréal’s Group de Rechercher d’Intérêt Public, because he has locs.

Well, actually because he’s white, and has locs.

In an extremely long message posted on their Facebook page, the Coop defended their decision to ban Zach Poitras from performing at their establishment. Essentially, they explained that they operate what they call a safe space exempt of oppression, in which no discrimination or harassment of any kind will be tolerated. They stated that they consider a white person with locs to be a form of cultural appropriation, which they describe on their post as: “the fact that a person from a dominant culture appropriates symbols, clothes or hairstyles of people from historically dominated cultures.”

They continued by saying that: “It is a privilege to be able to wear dreads as a white person and to be seen as fashionable, or as being edgy, while a black person will be denied access to job opportunities or spaces (housing, schools, parties, sports competitions, etc.).” Are white people with locs, like Poitras, racist, cultural appropriators? I don’t know––the few interactions I’ve had with them, I usually just sign for my package, and they ride off on their bicycles. I’ve never felt oppressed.

The incident and the message posted by the Coop has sparked a nationwide conversation on cultural appropriation and racism over the last few weeks. Well, a conversation that’s had mostly among white people, in my opinion.

Journal de Montréal columnist, Richard Martineau, ridiculed the matter, stating that this situation has opened his eyes, and he will no longer use numbers because they were invented by Arabs, and the fact that lithium batteries were created by a Moroccan man will cause him to stop using his cellphone, because he now realizes that would also be a form of cultural appropriation.

On Twitter, many debated the matter, like user @LavenderBlume who posed the question: “Why is #CulturalAppropriation so hard for people to understand?” Alongside a meme asking: “What if America loved black people as much as black culture?” This was then answered by user @thurnuz, who claims Poitras is innocent of what he is accused of, stating that locs “have been found depicted in frescoes from Mioa over 3,500 years ago, and were worn in ancient Greece and Sparta.” Therefore, a white person wearing locs is not appropriating black culture, the user argued.

Yes, I do believe a conversation should be had on the matter, but as Poitras himself said in a statement obtained by Radio Canada, “I do not think it’s up to whites to decide what is racist, or cultural appropriation.” This is not a conversation white people should be having alone. Not only should minorities be involved in the discussion being had about their cultures, I believe they should be leading them.

In a second message, posted to Facebook a few days later, the Coop attempted to further explain their decision not to let Poitras perform. They stated that they wished to clarify that they didn’t speak on behalf of all “marginalized” populations, and they never intended to suggest that the comedian was racist. But they reiterated their belief that his presence would not have been in accordance with their “inclusivity” policy. A policy, which along with their previous post, they now claim was written by “racialized” people.

The word “racialize” is defined in the Merriam-Webster dictionary as the act of giving racial character to something, or someone. I know what “racialized” means, but I looked it up because I would like to know exactly what the Coop meant by “racialized.” I may be reading too much into it, but it sounds a little condescending to me. It appears to me as if they are speaking of defenseless victims, or fragile creatures who have been made victims of their own race.

I hope the Coop is referring to particular people, in their particular group, because as a black person, I only speak for myself. I would feel pretty insulted if they are insinuating that Poitras wasn’t allowed to perform in their space on my behalf, as well as by being called “racialized.”

Personally, my concerns when it comes to cultural appropriation are less about whether or not Poitras can have locs, but whether or not the “genuine” red, gold, and green Rasta hat he might hold them in was bought from real Rastafarians, or from an American company that also sells sombreros, dashikis and chopsticks.

It’s the context of the hairstyle that might hurt, or anger me, not the hairstyle itself. If we are going to accuse him of appropriating Rastafarian culture, examples of real issues for me would be if his comedy routine consisted of him being a caricature of that culture; if he was claiming ownership of its rituals and practices; if he was trying to rewrite its history. If he was trying to commercialize it, presenting a whitened, watered down, or cartoonish version of it to consumers, or if he was trying to profit off of it by misrepresenting it as a dangerous culture of violence and drugs––then, I’d be upset.

Although the social justice warriors at the Coop may have had good intentions, I believe they should consult more sources than just the “racialized” people in their social justice circles. They should consult people other than Greg Robinson, the UQAM professor specializing in black immigration in Canada, who appears to have been quoted in all the articles I’ve read on the matter, and seems to claim that white people with locs equates to white people wearing blackface, or using the n-word. I’m hoping he was misquoted, because I don’t feel like going on to explain how those are completely different things.

In my opinion, the Coop’s actions created an opportunity for detractors of real racial oppression to downplay the notion of cultural appropriation, and for those unaware of it until this situation, to believe it is a topic of no merit. Again, they might have had the right idea, but they must be wary of the battles they pick, and on whose behalf they are supposedly fighting them. Because, as philosopher and writer J.P. Satre said, “When the rich wage war, it’s the poor who die.” Or, in this case, the “racialized,” I guess.

Graphic by Ana Bilokin

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Learning when to speak and when to listen

Joseph Boyden controversy opens up a larger discussion about cultural appropriation

Joseph Boyden is one of the most celebrated Canadian writers to ever take pen to paper. He has claimed an Indigenous heritage throughout his career, and most of his work centres around this identity. Since the start of his career in 2005, with his debut novel Three Day Road, Boyden has won numerous awards, including the Canada First Novel Award, the Rogers Writers’ Trust Fiction Prize, the Scotiabank Giller Prize and the McNally Robinson Aboriginal Book of the Year Award.

However, in December 2016, the Aboriginal People’s Television Network (APTN) discovered Boyden has no Indigenous heritage. APTN reported that even though Boyden has claimed ties to Métis, Mi’kmaq, Ojibway and Nipmuc communities throughout his life, they were unable to find any specific links to these communities. According to the report, “Boyden has never publicly revealed exactly from which earth his Indigenous heritage grows. It has been an ever shifting, evolving thing.”

Some of the things the APTN researched were his family tree and a book about the Boyden family that was published in 1901. After researching his familial claims and ancestry, the network learned that his inconsistent claims lead to a lack of concrete proof of his Indigenous heritage.

Boyden himself remained relatively silent after that, until the beginning of August when he responded to the allegations made against him by writing an article in Maclean’s. He said he’d taken a DNA test that showed he’s a “mutt,” and went on to list the results of the test. Boyden claimed these results indicated he is part Indigenous.

Prior to Boyden’s response in Maclean’s, an article from Vice News featured Métis writer Aaron Paquette saying that being Indigenous isn’t about DNA. He echoed a claim Boyden himself made on Twitter in his response to the controversy: “It is about community. It is about who claims you.” But who exactly claims Joseph Boyden?

In his Maclean’s article, Boyden vaguely claimed to have been “adopted by a number of people in Indigenous communities.” Robert Jago, a member of Kwantlen First Nation, was one of the researchers who questioned Boyden’s ancestry. In an article on Canadaland, he questioned the validity of being adopted by many communities, since the term “First Nations” refers to the many individual communities that make up the broader Indigenous community. “There is no person in Canada who is Indigenous without first having a national identity,” he said. In other words, you can belong to the Indigenous community in Canada, but you can’t belong to more than one of the individual groups that make up that broader community. Boyden claimed to be just that, which highlights his misconception around what it means to be Indigenous. If he misunderstood this key part of Indigenous identity, think about the other things he could have misunderstood and the problem with him spreading misinformation like this while claiming that he himself is Indigenous.

Some may say that, despite his questionable methods, Boyden helped raise awareness for Indigenous communities, but Jago refuted that claim in the same article for Canadaland, saying: “Being Indigenous is not a requirement to stand up for Indigenous rights.”

There seems to remain some uncertainty about whether Boyden was mistaken about his heritage or purposely deceitful. Regardless, this controversy opens up a larger, increasingly present debate about cultural appropriation. Although Boyden did spread awareness for Indigenous issues, there’s a potential his actions were harmful to the community as a whole if he took away speaking opportunities, money and cultural context from genuine Indigenous voices.

There exists a fine line between spreading awareness about relevant issues and being a part of the problem when sharing Indigenous stories without belonging to that community. This situation is about non-Indigenous people knowing—or at least being willing to learn—when it’s their turn to talk, and when it’s time to step aside and allow Indigenous people an opportunity to tell their own stories. This is a lesson for not only Boyden, but for all non-Indigenous Canadians who want to right the wrongs of their ancestors—myself included.

Graphics by Zeze Le Lin.

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