Categories
Opinions

Dear Laurence Fox…

Dear Laurence Fox,

I’m writing to you today in response to a claim you made on BBCs Question Time, during an exchange with an audience member about whether or not the media’s representation of Meghan Markle was racist. While talking to this member of the audience, you told them, “to call me a white privileged male is to be racist.”

The first thing I’d like you to note is that when the audience member said you were privileged, they did not mean it in terms of financially privileged or class-based privileged. What they meant is that you, as a white man, do not have the disadvantages or hindrances that minorities have in our societies and institutions.

Another thing to note is that being called a “white privileged male” isn’t racist, because it is not used in a derogatory way; they were simply stating a fact. You are a man and you are white, and because you are white, you are automatically privileged.

Now, you might argue that poor or uneducated white people wouldn’t consider themselves privileged, but technically, they are. As previously mentioned, a white person does not have to suffer through the racial inequalities in our system and institution. A poor white person is rarely seen as “dangerous, lazy, unambitious” in comparison to a poor person of color.

Now, if you still think that remark was a form of racism towards you, the term I think you’re looking for is reverse racism, which is essentially racism against white people. I’m sorry to inform you that reverse racism is not an actual thing, you can’t even find it in a legitimate dictionary, and here’s why: it’s a myth!

Many scholars, such as Amy Ansell, Professor and Dean of Liberal Arts at Emerson College, have argued that while the term has gained more and more popularity since it was created in the 1970s, it is not technically possible. The reason for that is because, as Ansell mentioned in her book Race and Ethnicity: The Key Concepts, when a group of people have little to no power over you institutionally and systematically, they cannot define your existence and they cannot limit your opportunities.

Yes, there are many stereotypes directed towards white people that can be insulting or derogatory, but think about it this way, do they cause any problems or have any concrete impact in your life? They may hurt your feelings, but do they lower your chances at getting a job or a promotion? No, they don’t.

As a privileged white male, maybe instead of trying to pull the “reverse racism” card, you should be thinking of how you can use this advantage, this privilege, to help those who are actually facing this racism and discrimination.

You were born with opportunities and options that many others are born without, and that doesn’t make you a bad person in any way, shape or form; it’s the way you use them that will decide that. So please, take this letter and the comment made by an audience member, and use your advantages for something constructive, something that will give back to the community.

Maybe next time you think of accusing someone of being racist towards you, you’ll take a second and remember that given your privilege, that isn’t possible.

 

Sincerely,

Victoria Blair

 

Graphic @sundaeghost

Categories
Student Life

Slice of Life: Letter from Morocco

Keeping up with friends while abroad

Dear Katy,

There is so much I wish I could write to you—but where do I even start? I know it’s my fault for not taking the time to write to you more often. I’ve been busy trying to absorb all the tomorrows filled with even more stories than the yesterdays. But as I sit in a rattling bus taking me from Marrakesh deep into the Atlas Mountains—where I plan to wander in Amazigh villages—my thoughts run wild and I feel the need to write to you.

The landscape is truly unbelievable. It’s a mix of infinite mountain peaks and barren valleys. The sun heats up the bus, and I keep exchanging sighs of desperation with others who are clearly more patient and used to this weather. Yet, they’re amused to see me, this young woman traveling alone. It seems as though my every move is meticulously tracked, or maybe I’m just self-absorbed. I stumble through discussions, trying to squeeze in the few words of Morocco’s Arabic dialect, Darija, that I’ve learned here and there. As I travel through the north, I feel as though I only catch a glimpse of people’s lives: men far away guiding their flocks of sheep and kids begging as they reach out to the bus windows. Then the road turns, and the kids are replaced with a view of the imposing ksour, an ancient mud and clay village. While the remaining castles have been wrecked by time, they are architectural masterpieces in my eyes. These images feel surreal, as though from a movie that I will never get to view entirely.

While I’m escaping the calmness of Rabat to take a break from my studies, I can’t help but think about what I’ve learned here. There’s something really overwhelming—and powerful—about witnessing the extent of class disparity, colonial repercussions, and developmental challenges—realities I’ve only encountered surrounded by four walls in an air-conditioned classroom. While on my way to Marrakesh a few days ago, when I looked away from the window, even for a minute, the metallic slums transformed into unblemished, renovated buildings. The two worlds are so disconnected from each other that the bridges—both old and new—connecting them feel strangely simple. The disparity became even clearer to me as I witnessed an old shepherd wearing a brown djellaba—the traditional robe—slowly crossing the road with his sheep, while an expensive-looking sports car zoomed by. Morocco’s inconsistent realities are indisputable. La calèche d’un bord, et le pétrole de l’autre.

I’m starting to see a paradoxical world here in Morocco, where values clash with beliefs and actions. Sometimes, men welcome me, feed me and discuss politics and religion with me, while their own mothers and daughters sit quietly without access to education nor the need for it, according to those same men. I am allowed to do and say as I please, but I’m shown the charming side of a place whose people are secretly choking from the inside out. My foreign naivety is entirely gone now, and I am very grateful for it. I have a feeling this journey will change my stance towards this asymmetric country.

I hope the winter isn’t too harsh on you.

Sincerely yours,

Virginie

P.S. You know that night…I did get on the back of that stranger’s motorcycle in Marrakesh. Ha!

Feature graphic by @sundaemorningcoffee

Categories
Student Life

Slice of Life: Letter from Morocco

A student on exchange writes to their loved ones in Montreal

Feb. 25: Dear Katy,

I arrived in Morocco one month ago today. Time seems to go by so quickly sometimes. The weeks I’ve spent here have been so far from the reality I was expecting. I can still see the anxiety in my friends’ and family’s eyes and feel the tension in their embraces as we said goodbye just a few weeks ago. Africa. That single word—the entire continent carries so many misconceptions and prejudices. I was starting to feel so trapped in my own occidental perspective—and in other people’s ideas—that I embarked on this journey for many reasons. But in the end, I really just wanted to see for myself. And dear, the past few weeks have already shown me such an eclectic, extraordinary place.

I flew to Rabat and automatically wandered into the labyrinthine marketplace of the Medina. I’ve found myself in situations where I am literally the only woman present. It’s a man’s world, but one that is fast-changing. I was expecting to feel consistently repressed, but in reality, I feel empowered by witnessing such a sense of solidarity between women. I am not welcomed with judgmental looks, but with warm smiles. I don’t think I’ve ever entirely comprehended the power of my freedom as a western woman or questioned it until now. Here, I walk the streets and I feel privileged. Call me naive, but Rabat has been so good to me.

The Moroccans’ kindness is so special. I’m finding such a strong sense of community—from the way people share their meals, consistently offer their help, laugh together, and greet you with “Salaam Aleikum,” or “peace be upon you.” I know this is just a first impression, but it’s such a contrast from back home, on such a deep level, that I sometimes fear I’ll never want to come back. And while everyone does stare at me, sometimes calling mela gazelle,” “fromage,” or even “la blanche,” I’ve been responding with an open mind and my boundless sense of humour.

You know, most people think of Marrakech or Casablanca as the capital of Morocco, but it’s actually Rabat that holds the title since the country’s independence in 1912, and it has become so internationally accessible. We are barely one hour away from Casablanca, where I’ve heard life is chaotic and loud—even overwhelming—and yet, it’s so calm here. As I sit on the roof of the house I now call “home,” beautiful Rabat is alive and well before my eyes. I can’t resist glimpsing over my neighbours’ rooftops, where mixed colours of hanging clothes and blooming flowers add to the diversity of the scenery.

In front of me, the Bou Regreg river—which separates the neighbouring city Salé from Rabat—is circling the old, fortified neighbourhood of Kasbah des Oudayas like a thick knife cutting into butter. I have to squint as I write to you, as the reflection of the sun on the water is bouncing onto my white pages. I am in awe as I sit before the imposing, bright blue Atlantic’s work, and deeply wish I could teleport you here to show you. Montreal seems so far from me now. I’ll send you another letter soon. I can’t wait to tell you about my luck finding the gorgeous house I now live in with cats (yes, I am still very allergic, but I like to believe constant sneezing is now part of my charm), as well as the wild feasts and the musical nights I’ve been sharing with locals.

Beslama my dear friend!

Virginie

Feature graphic by @spooky_soda

Categories
Opinions

Crying out for change

We must never forget the victims of shootings in the United States

I am a student, a millennial, a daughter and a lot more. The reason I’m writing this is because I can’t sleep, I can’t go to school, I can’t walk around or go out with my friends without being scared. I lay awake thinking of the headlines, the numbers, the names and the families.

I’m not one of them. I didn’t lose a friend or family member to gun violence, but I am still so bothered. The recent shootings in the United States have pushed me beyond my limit. So here’s my question: What’s it going to take? How many more students, millennials, children, parents, friends and family members have to lose their lives? Have you watched the news coverage? If yes, then you’ve seen their yearbook pictures. That’s all we get—a yearbook photo and a name, and then they’re gone.

I walk into class thinking of the quickest exits in case of an emergency. I can’t go to a club without the thought that I won’t hear screams or gunfire over the music. Maybe you think I’m overreacting. Maybe you think this isn’t my business because I’m not an American citizen; but I am a citizen of the world. I have a voice and I’m so, so tired. Tired of seeing innocent people hurt, tired of seeing people who just wanted to go out with friends never come home and tired of being afraid. I go to bars and restaurants, to school and concerts, and so do you. It could be me and I refuse to be apathetic just because it didn’t happen to someone I know.

I want to know when it will be enough to tip the scales. I want to know why they didn’t tip a long time ago. After the Sandy Hook Elementary School shooting, I had so much hope for change. I believed that, if anything was going to spark change, it would be that horrific event. I was wrong. In the last year, in school after school, at clubs and churches and concerts, people have been killed. After the Parkland shooting, students from Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School started an amazing revolution, but it’s barely reported in the news anymore. The Borderline Bar and Grill was hosting a college night which allowed 18+ clients for one night, when the gunman walked in and ended 12 lives, just a few weeks ago. Yet the media has already moved on because a more recent shooting happened somewhere else. The violence has been everywhere and it seems constant. I am asking anyone reading this: Aren’t you tired?

I want to act, I want to change, I want to yell and shout and make something happen—then I remember I can’t. I’m not loud enough, strong enough or important enough to create that change because I am one person. I am alone. So I’m writing this to express what I feel because I don’t know what else to do. We watch the news, we see their faces, and then we see them replaced by the next faces, moved aside and too quickly forgotten. Shock dies down, but they died first. How is it possible that we talked about the death of Harambe in my class for five weeks, when the lives lost in mass shootings are practically forgotten the next day? The world moves on so quickly, but the victims couldn’t, so why should we?

The news shows us the facts, the families, the sadness and then moves on to the next story. I’m not asking for them to change. I’m asking for all of us to take on a small piece of responsibility. To not forget their names or their faces. I feel heavy with the weight of the victims. It feels like everyone else is moving forward and forgetting too fast, and I am carrying them.

Let’s not forget them. Let’s carry them together. We are from the same generation as so many of the victims, and we are the ones who will make a change. Let’s start now. Research, speak up, make change, but most of all, remember their names.

Graphic by @spooky_soda

 

Categories
News

Author of Concordia bomb threat in court

Hashim Saadi trial to begin this week

The man who sent a letter threatening Muslim students at Concordia University in March 2017 was back in court on Thursday, Nov. 9.

Hashim Saadi wore blue jeans, an orange fleece sweater and a flannel scarf to court. He stood silently in front of the judge as his lawyer argued to have his bail conditions altered to allow him to attend a work training in March.

Saadi, a former doctoral candidate in economics at Concordia, is being charged with carrying out a terror-related hoax, uttering threats and mischief in connection with a bomb threat to Concordia’s Muslim student population. His trial will begin on Nov. 16.

On March 1, 2017, Saadi allegedly sent a letter to multiple Montreal media outlets threatening to set off bombs in the Hall building on de Maisonneuve Blvd. and the EV building on Ste-Catherine Street.

The targeted buildings were evacuated at 11:30 a.m., sending thousands of students onto the streets. Classes resumed at the university’s downtown campus at 6 p.m. that day. In the wake of the threats, the Concordia Student Union released a statement urging the university to cancel classes for the rest of the week.

The threatening letter, obtained by The Concordian, said that unless Concordia stopped religious activity of all kinds on campus, “small artisanal bombs” would be detonated in the university. “These are not meant to kill anybody,” the letter read. “The only aim is to injure some Moslem [sic] students.”

The letter was signed by the Council of Conservative Citizens of Canada, or C4. No such organization is listed on the Royal Canadian Mounted Police’s online list of hate groups in Canada. According to the Southern Poverty Law Center, the similarly named Council of Conservative Citizens (CCC) is an American white nationalist group. The group’s leader was contacted by CBC News on the day of the Concordia bomb threat. He denied involvement in or knowledge of the bomb threat.

A group called C4 does exist in Canada; it is called the Canadian Coalition of Concerned Citizens. Their Facebook page listed their mandate as “to protect democracy and freedom of speech.” Several days after the bomb scare at Concordia, the group organized a demonstration in Trois-Rivières against M-103, the federal Liberal government’s motion condemning Islamophobia. Members of the group quoted by Le Nouvelliste newspaper said they thought the Concordia hoax was a plot to silence freedom of speech, citing the fact that Saadi is reportedly of Lebanese origin.

Multiple media outlets initially linked the bomb threats to a wave of anti-Muslim incidents which occurred in the wake of the Quebec City mosque shooting on Jan. 29, 2017, when six people were killed. The National Council of Canadian Muslims reported that two Montreal mosques had been vandalized in the weeks following the shooting.

After Saadi’s arrest on March 3, dozens of international media outlets, including The Arab Herald and Lebanese outlet The 961, reported the story and decried the bomb threat as a hoax. On March 7, conservative writer and radio talk-show host Dennis Prager used the Concordia bomb scare as an example of fake anti-Islamic incidents in an article titled “There is no wave of Trump-induced anti-Semitism or racism.”

Concordia confirmed that Saadi was a doctoral candidate in economics at the university before his arrest. Two of Saadi’s friends, who appeared at his bail hearing, described him as a non-practicing Muslim. Police searched his apartment after his arrest but reported they hadn’t found any explosive materials.

Saadi underwent a psychological evaluation upon his arrest. His trial is expected to last four days.

Photo by Ana Hernandez

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