Higher education is a privilege not everyone has access to, and we’re all extremely fortunate for the learning opportunities at Concordia, but crap is it ever tiring. After three full years spent in Montreal either working my butt off at school, or working my butt off to pay for school, I’m just about done (realistically I still have a year or so left, though—whoop-dee-doo). But it’s not the prospect of hard work that leaves me feeling discouraged; it’s the feeling that I’m not doing enough. The feeling that being in school full-time, working for The Concordian part-time (read: full-time), and trying to pick up whatever photography gigs I can still isn’t enough.
Just the other week, I was talking with my roommate about how I want to spend this summer. Working outdoors is something I fell in love with in 2015, before moving to Montreal, when I worked as a canoe trip counselor in Algonquin Park, a provincial park in southeastern Ontario. Getting outside and into nature is something I’ve been itching to do every summer since then, for my own sanity. Yet, when having this conversation with my roommate, I found myself bringing up my degree, the benefit of staying in Montreal for another summer to take extra classes, maybe pick up an internship; all to get ahead. But of what? Of who?
I’m not sure what makes me more upset: the fact that I have this competitive desire to finish my degree quickly and move on, or the fact that I’m probably going to end up taking classes and whatever internship I think will boost my CV the most. There was one semester, one blissful (yes, blissful) few months in fall 2017, when I thoroughly enjoyed all of my classes. Not only that, but I was proud of the work I was accomplishing, both in and outside the lecture hall. But toward the end of post-secondary education, professors start encouraging students to envision how their degrees fit into their career paths. While this isn’t inherently negative, the insane pressure many of us feel to find that career path early on and pursue every available opportunity within that field, to differentiate ourselves and come out on top is kind of negative (cheers, capitalism), no?
What happened to stopping and smelling the roses? Enjoying the journey, and not the destination? I’ve had one-too-many conversations with students already working full-time in their final years of university who only show up to classes on mandatory attendance days or to hand in assignments because they’re simply done with school. Or students who are in school full-time, pursuing a full-time internship, and also trying to work part-time who have absolutely no time for themselves.
The constant pressure to go above and beyond comes from the overexpectations we all feel, and it really friggin’ sucks. It translates to us constantly focusing on the next stage of our lives, as opposed to drawing value from our current place in life and really growing as individuals.
The city of Montreal’s role in preparing students for life after university
I have two more years in the safe environment of university life before the boundless and merciless maze of a world takes over my life. Much like other long-term planners, the question that plagues me night and day is: What’s next?
I moved from Lebanon to Montreal two years ago, and Concordia has quickly become a haven in the metropolis. Now, I don’t like to get too comfortable in places where I know my stay is temporary, so I make a point of planning what comes after my time at Concordia. The problem this time is that, unlike high school, I will be thrown into the mad world of adulthood where my sole focus will be to find whatever purpose I should fulfill.
I often find myself walking across René-Lévesque St., looking at all the suits rushing around and wondering if this is my purpose. Am I to walk these same streets, go about these same routines, all the while still trying to master a language that I have yet to learn?
Oh, yes—I should mention that I don’t speak French. Yet, I love Montreal. Part of what makes it amazing is how quickly I adapted to the snowy, moody, beautiful city-life. The metropolis makes it easy, really. Compared to other places, even around Canada and the province of Quebec, Montreal is so eclectic that you are bound to find something you identify with.
Although it’s in a French province, Montreal’s bilingualism makes the city home to immense diversity. I’ve heard about 17 languages being spoken while walking from the Hall building to John Molson. I’ve seen a woman wearing the hijab laugh audibly with a woman in shorts and a tank top. The city’s mélange of cultures is almost palpable.
Also, Concordia University is a beacon of innovative ideas; it constantly creates chances for students to make the best out of their time, personally and in their careers. Mary-Jo Barr, the university’s spokesperson said, “Montreal offers many advantages for those who want a complete university experience. It is culturally and linguistically diverse, and is seen as a place where students and graduates can prosper.”
In addition, while most universities in the province of Quebec are seeing a decrease in student enrolment, The Concordian reported that Concordia is experiencing the opposite. The fact that it’s located in Montreal and its main language of instruction is English are substantial reasons, according to Concordia’s chief financial officer, Denis Cossette, and the senior director of financial planning and budget services, Jean-François Hamel.
I think this city is perfectly equipped to help students adapt to a balanced lifestyle. Unfortunately, I don’t think this privilege extends to graduates looking for a job. According to an article from the Montreal Gazette, Montreal’s unemployment rate has risen 0.4 per cent this past July—now sitting at 6.2 per cent.
There are discounts and offers for students all around the city that help make our stay more affordable; this perk does not extend to non-students. And for me personally, I’m a future journalist studying in a bilingual city whose media outlets rely heavily on French.
On top of that, having spoken to a few people who came here and stayed, what I noticed they all have in common is routine—they settle themselves here, go to work or university or both, come back home, have the occasional weekend outing, and repeat. The excitement of newness and diversity becomes normalcy. At one time, perhaps the beginning of winter was exciting for newcomers—but then, the cold breeze announcing winter becomes a cold reminder instead: “Here comes another six months or so of weather-induced depression.”
I do believe that those who are comfortable with a set, continuous routine can find their calling in this city. But I left home at 18 to come to a strange city, meet new people, make connections, be at Concordia, and then see where I can take what I’ve learned and do something with it. I don’t believe the Montreal that lies outside the safety net of Concordia is apt for me. I do, however, believe it’s the perfect city for transitioning into adult life.
NDG local Marlo Turner shows The Concordian her plate before smashing it.
How the act of smashing plates can be a transformative experience
“I’ve been thinking about all the things I want to smash all week,” says Marlo Turner, an NDG local, as she enters the gallery space for Smashing the Platriarchy 2.0. Lindsay Fleming and Melanie Stuy, organizers of the participatory performance art event, hand Turner a plate and greet her warmly. Locating her coloured sharpie of choice, Turner eagerly joins the dozen other participants who scribble away their soon-to-be-smashed thoughts.
Smashing the Platriarchy 2.0 took place from Aug. 21 to 23 during the 9th annual NDG Arts Week. The event is a trifecta of interactive exhibits that invites attendees to physically, auditorily and thoughtfully engage with a variety of materials.
“I’m learning something new today that I didn’t know anything about!” says participant Lynne, as she listens to audio recordings of past attendees sharing their personal stories. Photo by Alex Hutchins.
Participants express negative feelings that stem from sexism and racism, to xenophobia and climate change on old plates provided by Stuy and Fleming. Afterwards, adorned in safety goggles and with their plates snuggly wrapped in a burlap sack, they smash them with a hammer.
Throughout the three day event, participants use the broken plate shards to fill out a mosaic on a piece of cut wood, creating the beautiful shape of a bird to symbolize freedom, explains Stuy.
I select a plate, a blue sharpie and choose a seat between Fleming’s eldest daughter, Grace, and another attendee, Rayanna Speede, to write down whatever comes to mind. Speede and I begin explaining what our plates are about.
“I’ve been dissecting a lot lately, so I think that’s what came out,” says Speede, in reference to the swirl of mandalas decorating her plate. I ask her what she thinks smashing the plate will feel like, and she responds: “Like closing a chapter. Being introspective is good, and I think smashing this after will be a good thing.”
“I’ve been dissecting a lot lately, so I think that’s what came out,” explains Speede. “Being introspective is good and I think smashing this is a good thing.” Photo by Alex Hutchins.
Stuy and Fleming hope the community art project will start conversations. The pair want to create safe spaces that are conducive to open dialogue and aid in the processing of feelings that are typically repressed or are too large to condense into words, they say.
“The night of and day after the 2016 US election, I wasn’t ready to put my feelings into words,” explains Fleming. “But I had a lot of them, and they were big.”
While chatting with Stuy from the cozy confines of a quaint coffee shop a few days prior to the event, she recalled the post-election days leading up to the creation of Smashing the Platriarchy 2.0. It all started with a group of friends and family coming together over the mutual desire to externalize their feelings.
“I like the idea of art as a transformation,” said Stuy, explaining how the idea of breaking plates with friends evolved into creating a transformative art piece. By assembling the mosaic as a community, piece by piece, Stuy hopes to create beauty from brokenness, and “turn those negative feelings into something more positive.”
Passers-by and attendees who didn’t want to smash plates were encouraged to contribute to the Wall of Ideology, a collection of written thoughts, feelings and phrases on display inside the gallery space. Recordings of people recounting their personal stories from previous gatherings on mp3 players were also available for audiences to listen to.
“I’m learning something new today that I didn’t know anything about!” says Lynne, a participant, after listening to the audio recordings and examining other people’s plates.
Laura Kamugisha, a Concordia student and communications assistant for NDG Arts Week, explains what the paragraph on her plate is about.
“It’s about being used,” she says. “About being the pillar of the home… but not having a seat at the table, even though you built the table.”
Laura Kamugisha explains that her plate is “about being the pillar of the home… but not having a seat at the table, even though you built the table.” Photo by Alex Hutchins.
Stuy and Fleming believe that showing children how to acknowledge and express their emotions is essential. “It’s important for [kids] to be a part of that conversation too,” explains Stuy. “It gives them an opportunity to channel their feelings, and for their opinions to be heard.”
Grace, at only nine years old, nonchalantly asks her mother what the current gender wage gap is so she can write it on her plate.
“It’s really interesting,” Stuy explains, “because [some] people couldn’t believe, not only that we had smashed plates, but that we let our kids do it too.”
As individuals, it’s important to find and create our own channels for expressing all of the thoughts we may be trying to process but that we can’t necessarily put into words.
Coming together to vocalize, process, and physically break the negative thoughts that would otherwise remain unaddressed is not only empowering, but incredibly healing. Especially when done as a community with one unified goal: to smash the patriarchy.
The Pop-up Against Procrastination invited Concordia students to enjoy a study break with coffee, food and pet therapy. Photo by Kirubel Mehari.
The Pop-up Against Procrastination invited Concordia students to enjoy a study break with coffee, food and pet therapy. Photo by Kirubel Mehari.
Concordia Student Success Centre pop-up offers tips and support for students during finals
Every student is likely guilty of procrastination. Despite having too much work and not enough time, it’s not uncommon for students to find themselves putting off assignments and studying, particularly at this point in the semester. With that in mind, Concordia’s Student Success Centre organized a “Pop-up Against Procrastination” on March 28.
Strategically set up in the LB atrium, students on their way to the library could swing by for free sandwiches, popcorn and coffee. The event also provided students with support, tips and services to help them avoid procrastinating. The pop-up was divided into three types of stations designed to tackle different factors of procrastination. Several stations were geared toward learning support services, such as the writing assistant and math tutoring services offered year-round by the Student Success Centre, as well as the various research tools and services provided by the university libraries.
“We help students develop the skills they need to edit their own papers,” said writing assistant Kelly Routly, who specified that “one thing we don’t do is edit and proofread.” Essay writing can be a long, complicated process that requires time. Writing assistants at the Student Success Centre help students with this process by teaching them how to spot mistakes on their own. “You’ll spot mistakes by reading your essay out loud,” advised writing assistant Cindy Hanna. “It’s very helpful.”
Students gathered at the pet therapy station to embrace the dog and relieve some stress. Photo by Kirubel Mehari.
Writing assistants like Hanna can assist students with the brainstorming process and teach them how to structure and organize their essays. The centre also offers group conversation sessions in English and French to help students improve their language skills. Routly suggested students take the time to write two drafts of their essay. “A lot of students will try to make their first attempt be the final draft, but it helps to go over it to produce a final draft from that first, initial draft,” she said.
Other learning support stations at the pop-up offered smart study strategies and a time management checkup. Free monthly and daily planners, as well as blank checklists, were available for students to help them prepare for final exams. Stationed at the time management booth, Charles Procee, a liaison for the Student Success Centre, said the trick to following a study schedule is to treat it like a guideline rather than a “shackle.”
“Life happens,” Procee said. “Let the study schedule guide your day, not dominate it.” A study schedule is not effective, he added, if students are being too strict about it and stressing themselves out. It’s all about being realistic when planning a study day; Procee advises students aim to complete 80 per cent of their study goal.
The pop-up also featured stations to help students lower their stress levels. Counsellors were available to speak with students about their mental wellbeing, and a table was set up with mandalas and coloured pencils to encourage therapeutic colouring. At his own station, a Bernese mountain therapy dog named Café was surrounded by smiling students eager to pet him and take photos.
Students could have their questions answered by academic advisors, career counsellors and librarian staff at the planning assistance stations. According to business librarian Melissa Rivosecchi, knowing how to use the research tools available on the library’s website or on-site allows students to be much more efficient and successful in their research. This can also encourage students to avoid procrastinating.
Rivosecchi said some students don’t know that the university library databases are divided by subject, or that they can widen their research using Boolean operators. “Students may not know that the library website also has many citation guides that have detailed explanations,” she added.
The “sharing wall” invited students to write tips and motivational notes for their peers. Photo by Kirubel Mehari.
Here are a few tips from the Student Success Centre to avoid procrastination:
Start with the smaller tasks that don’t require too much effort
Treat your study blocks like a game; try to finish each task within a set time limit
Tell others about the specific tasks you’re working on; this will motivate you to complete them
Schedule time to relax and breathe; and remember, you can do it!
The “sharing wall” invited students to write tips and motivational notes for their peers.
In 2015, Nicole Gingras curated Spaces Under Scrutiny, Knockdown Center, pictured on display in Brooklyn, N.Y. Photo by François Quévillon.
For long-time curator Nicole Gingras, it’s all about supporting artists
For the past 34 years, Nicole Gingras has curated and showcased the work of artists across the city and on an international stage.
“Curating, for me, is to go outside of my comfort zone,” said Gingras, a part-time faculty member in Concordia’s studio arts department. “In some ways, I taught myself to be a curator. I started to curate because I had an interest in some artists, and I wanted to bring light on their work.”
Gingras teaches master’s seminars once a year at Concordia. In one of these courses, “Thinking through Sound,” she makes students aware of the way sounds resonate in art. She does this by analyzing the texts of philosophers, engineers and musicians who have studied the significance of sounds.
For Gingras, teaching is a way to meet student-artists and further her research. “I love to teach,” she emphasized. “It is a good research ground, and it is a good opportunity to test some ideas that I have.”
In addition to teaching, much of Gingras’ time is dedicated to curating and highlighting the work of artists through exhibitions. However, this was not a passion she initially had as a student. “I never thought I would be a curator,” said Gingras, who has bachelor’s degree in cinema from Concordia and a master’s in art history from the Université de Montréal. Yet, art has always been important to Gingras. “I wanted to support and diffuse the work of artists. It was something that came out very naturally. That was the moteur to start curating.”
Nicole Gingras curated Karen Trask – L’ombre et la forme at the Maison des Arts de Laval in 2014. Photo by Paul Litherland.
The curating process
For Gingras, it is not the finished product but rather the process of developing an exhibition—from mounting it to giving a tour to visitors—that is her primary focus as a curator. “I like to follow the work of an artist who is developing,” she said. “I am very interested in the creating, researching and thinking processes; these elements reflect themselves in my curatorial projects.”
She stressed that curators have the responsibility to be aware of new artists and where they come from, as well as the innovations of the field. “[Curating] is a way of living, because curators are aware of artists and contexts of exhibiting, how ideas are developed in the public space, and how notions of exhibiting have transformed.”
Among other topics, an artist’s use of still and moving images to create tension between the two media fascinates Gingras. She said she appreciates the benefits of the two media; still images have duration, while moving images last for only an instant. “This tension is a way of talking about the movement between the presence and the absence,” Gingras said. “It is a way to talk about fragility, vulnerability and mortality.”
She emphasized that the interaction between these two media also engages the viewer. “When you look at [an image], it challenges you when the state of the image is changing,” Gingras said. “It’s very subjective, and every viewer will get a different moment in this passage from stillness and motion.”
Gingras said she believes it is crucial to help tell an artist’s story in the way she curates an exhibition. “When I am curating for institutions, I think it is very important to put in context new work and its history to show where the artist is coming from,” she said, noting that curating brings artists together to develop a network. “Curating is also to develop links between artists, practices or thematics, and these links should be organic so that the viewers can find their own perspective.”
Accompanying exhibitions with some sort of textual element is also important in her curatorial work. “Publication is a very good medium to disseminate the artist’s work,” said Gingras, who founded a publishing house, Éditions Nicole Gingras, which focuses on artists from Montreal and abroad who “have never had a book.” It is one of the many ways Gingras sheds light on artists and their work.
In terms of choosing which artists to work with, Gingras said it is not a question of choice but a question of timing. “I’m interested in research and exploratory approaches,” she said, which is often what guides her decision.
The exhibition Spectres, waves and modulations was featured at Oboro in Montreal this year. Photo by Paul Litherland.
A landscape of works
Gingras has worked on a long-term basis with the International Festival of Films on Art (FIFA), which focuses on films and documentaries about artists on an international scale. She was first invited to be a guest programmer in 2003, and a few years later, Gingras was appointed as the director of one of the festival’s sections, which she later named FIFA Experimental. This particular section “presents the latest in video art and experimental film while reconnecting us with the achievements of pioneers and the emergence of other singular voices,” according to the festival’s website.
“I thought it would be interesting to reflect the artist’s work, so it is like an addition to the exhibition,” Gingras said. Some of the films and videos she has curated for the festival are based on the artists’ practices and processes, while others are more like art essays.
Additionally, over the years, Gingras has been invited to curate the collections of various film distributors and video centres in Canada based on select themes. Among these distributors is Group Intervention Vidéo, an artist-run centre dedicated to supporting female artists and video makers. Gingras said she was particularly interested in their collection because of its focus on social issues and art.
“We go very deep in the process and in the intention of these artists,” said Gingras about the process of curating this type of collection.
One of the challenges Gingras has faced as a curator is balancing multiple projects at once. “All of the projects are not at the same moment of their development. The challenge is to coordinate all of these aspects and to be able to manage them,” she said.
Another challenge she has experienced is mounting an exhibition in another country, because it takes a lot more communication and coordination between her and the artists. Nevertheless, she assured “it’s a good challenge.”
The longest exhibition Gingras curated abroad was Où sont les sons? / Where are Sounds?. This exhibition was displayed in Brussels, Belgium, from April 20 to Sept. 10, 2017. The project involved the works of artists from Montreal, Germany, Austria, Belgium, Greece, France, Norway and Italy. According to Gingras, the project incorporated many of her curatorial interests—sound work, silence, kinetic installation, transformation—into one exhibition.
“In this exhibition, you can experience sounds from different parts of your body, not only from your ears,” she explained. “Sounds can be transmitted to your body through your teeth, skin or bones.”
Où sont les sons?, on display in Belgium, was the longest exhibition Gingras curated abroad. Courtesy of Nicole Gingras.
Current endeavors
Gingras’ latest curatorial work, Spectres, ondes et modulations, was on display at Oboro, a contemporary and new media art centre in Montreal, from Feb. 3 to March 10. For this exhibition, Gingras took the work of Martine H. Crispo, an artist-in-residence at Oboro, and gave it a particular angle.
“When I proposed this exhibition to the selection committee, I thought it would be interesting to show one piece by Martine, but also to make relations with artists who are using film or video.” According to Gingras, the purpose was to build a connection between the thematic elements in Crispo’s work and their connection with the work of other artists in film and video. The exhibition focused on the different experiences of duration and sound in relation to motion or moving image, she said.
Gingras also put together six programs, featuring a total of 29 artists’ works, for FIFA Experimental in the latest edition of FIFA, which wrapped up on March 18. On the festival’s final weekend, Gingras organized a public conversation followed by a Q&A session with two filmmakers, Alexandre Larose and Shelley Niro. According to Gingras, Larose looks at reality, nature and domestic space, while Niro’s work deals with identity, the land, its history and how all of this is disseminated in a powerful manner.
A piece of advice Gingras would give to her students, or any student who wants to be an artist or a curator, is to immerse themselves in the art world. “See as much as possible in galleries,” she said. “[It is important] to live your own experience of the work, to get this experience, and to refer later to the memory of this experience in [your] own work.”
“Artists make us aware of things that sometimes we don’t see, hear or understand, so as a young artist or as an aspiring curator, you have to go through these experiences yourself.”
They are young, and they escaped with nothing to lose and everything to gain
We were only 14 years old, living in a group home in the deserted mining town of Gardnerville, Nevada.
My mother left Nelson because he has always been a drunk. She left when I was only two years old. Whenever I asked about her, Nelson never gave me a straight answer. He was either too drunk to recall or too hurt to admit that he had no idea where she was. Nelson promised he would stop drinking after she left. But he never even tried. My mother didn’t bother to take me with her. She left me with his drunken madness.
I remember the unbearable feeling of coming home after school to our one-bedroom apartment on Melrose Avenue. Opening the door and smelling a strong stench reeking of piss and cheap beer with Nelson lying on the mattress. He would often piss himself in his sleep because he was too drunk or unconscious to make his way to the bathroom. He snored to the sound of indistinct chatter coming from the television, the soundtrack of my afternoons.
My room had a blue blanket on the floor with a picture of my mother hung up on the wall. She had gorgeous long brown curly hair with big hazel eyes. She left behind a necklace that hung over the picture. It was a gold chain with a dolphin pendant. I kept it in case she ever came back for it.
One night, when I was only eight, I woke up to the sound of heavy knocks on the door. A social worker and the police took me away from Nelson and arrested him. I haven’t seen him since. I packed the picture, the necklace and a blanket in a plastic bag and left. They brought me to a place called a group home. It felt like constantly living at school. I was always with a bunch of different kids, and I had to share everything with them. The people taking care of us would come and go. Some were nice. Others were miserable and wanted us to be miserable too. It’s weird growing up with strangers that you’re supposed to consider family.
Joey got there a year later, and we’ve been inseparable ever since. I found out that his mother was a crack addict and his father was serving time for dealing drugs. All Joey wanted was to find his younger brother, Jesse. Social workers separated them and sent his brother to another group home. Jesse was all he would talk about. “I have to protect my baby brother. I have to be there for him. I’m all he’s got,” Joey would shout out whenever he got upset with someone. He tried running away several times, but the police would always track him down. They even took his shoes so he wouldn’t run away again.
This time though, we ran away together.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” I called out to Joey. “The cops are searching for us. It’s a small fucking town, we need to jet.” After months of planning and waiting for Joey to get his old shoes back, we finally escaped the group home one afternoon. I had agreed to help Joey find his baby brother.
“Fuck the cops and fuck this system. Have a beer,” Joey said as he passed me the Rolling Stone he had just stolen from a 7/11.
Joey and I headed straight to the Gardnerville bus station.
Our plan was to head to Portland. Word was that the social service people took his little brother Jesse there. I didn’t care where we went. I had nowhere to go, nothing to lose and everything to gain. I was free and lonely as hell. Freedom and loneliness combined make way for a fascinating yet destructive adventure.
All I wanted was to get the hell out of this town and never look back. The only belongings I took were the picture of my mother and her gold necklace. I hoped to find her and prove I was nothing like Nelson and that I was worthy of her love.
While waiting for the Greyhound bus, I realized how sad bus stations can be. When lost and broken souls like mine want to escape, the first place they run to is the nearest bus terminal. Before we left, I grabbed a quarter and headed towards a payphone. I took a note out of my pocket. I could hear my heart jumping out of my chest. I had a phone call to make.
Dre and Edward Row talk about the different dimensions of working with the internet, particularly Instagram, as a medium. Photo by Alex Hutchins
Dre and Edward Row talk about the different dimensions of working with the internet, particularly Instagram, as a medium. Photo by Alex Hutchins
Get to know the self-proclaimed high priestess of dank memery
“I’m just a young woman trying to navigate the world, and trying to do so in a way that is in line with her own values and lived experiences,” said Dre, a.k.a @gothshakira, an intersectional feminist and Latinx meme creator. On Feb. 27, alongside photographer Edward Row, Dre spoke at a panel on social media as part of a three-day journalism networking event hosted at McGill University.
Dozens of student journalists attended a series of panels on the future of journalism, given the advent of digital media. Yet only some had the privilege of listening to Dre speak about creating autobiographical memes that challenge the mainstream representation of various marginalized groups and the power of sharing personal experiences.
Memes plague the internet, popping up on our Instagram and Facebook feeds all too frequently, redirecting our attention to a joke or poignant comment. However, Dre’s memes often intimately recount her personal experiences, which creates an aura of human emotion not typically found on the internet.
“It’s hard trying to be human through [a medium] that is inhuman,” Dre said. “The pursuit of authenticity, in that sense, is always going to be inherently inauthentic.”
Given that Dre’s memes are so emotionally raw, many of her followers often feel as though they personally know her—it’s part of what makes the @gothshakira persona resonate with people so deeply. “There’s so much power in your personal lived experience,” Dre said. “If you can find a way to navigate that, to support and to listen while sharing your own experiences, that is beautiful.”
When Dre first started her personal Instagram page in the winter of 2015, she had no idea the social media following it would gain. “That’s part of the total ephemerality of the internet—just the spontaneity of it and how anyone can slide into your DMs [direct messages],” Dre said. Currently, @gothshakira has nearly 60,000 followers on Instagram, having caught her “big break” in 2016 when Gucci slid into her DMs and commissioned her to design a meme as part of the #FTWGUCCI ad campaign, according to Flare Magazine.
Much of Dre’s content is focused on dismantling heteropatriarchy and challenging representations of marginalized women of colour, femmes and LGBTQ+ members. Being half-Colombian and having immigrated to Canada from her birth country, Dre described her upbringing as being in a “very religious evangelical Christian immigrant home,” according to an interview she did with Canadian Art. This is one reason Dre gravitated towards astrology, a unique theme often present in her memes.
Dre is also notorious for using images of well-known Latina actresses, such as Shakira and Jennifer Lopez, usually looking unimpressed. Her memes tend to be spliced with a bold text-to-image ratio and typically feature astoundingly poignant text blurbs that highlight the realities of the racialized, sexualized stereotyping that many marginalized groups experience.
Dre is very open about her own problematic biases and always emphasizes the importance of listening to individuals’ lived experiences, which invariably differ from her own. “I’m going through my own process of decolonization and unlearning toxic things I internalized in my youth,” Dre said during an interview with Canadian Art. “I’m fully cognizant that the dating memes that I make are about dating straight cis men […] I’m trying to learn more about the experiences and realities of trans people.” This is one example of a marginalized group Dre cannot identify with but whose perspectives she’d like to include in her content.
Being accountable for her extended performance art piece—how Dre has come to describe the @gothshakira persona she created—adds a dimension of intimacy to the interactions with her fanbase. “No one else could have created this except for me because it’s very personal, and I’m not going to try to hide behind anything. So, here I am,” Dre said.
Her willingness to engage in meaningful conversations is refreshing, compared to many memers who prefer to remain visible only through admin photos and pseudonyms. “It’s been really amazing to meet a lot of the people in real life who have engaged with my content and who have taken something from it. That’s been the most rewarding part of this experience,” Dre said.
The network of support and openness Dre creates through @gothshakira is an example of the interpersonal growth we can achieve when we listen to each other. It’s a much needed reminder of the individual agency we create when outwardly acknowledging our emotions, and the power in taking control of how our personal experiences are told. There is so much to be gained from being vulnerable.
For more of Dre’s memes, check out her Instagram page.
From left, Samuel Fafard, Hicham Khanafer, Richard Goldman, Florence Bourdeau, Aude Mary and Mireille Métellus. Photo by Alex Hutchins
The School of Community and Public Affairs hosted a panel on the challenges of integration
“To those fleeing persecution, terror and war, Canadians will welcome you, regardless of your faith. Diversity is our strength #WelcomeToCanada,” tweeted Prime Minister Justin Trudeau a little over a year ago. The hashtag he used inspired the title of a panel hosted by the Concordia School of Community and Public Affairs (SCPA) on Feb. 6. The French-language discussion focused on the challenges of integration and protection asylum seekers face in Canada.
The topic is timely and relevant, as Canada maintains its welcoming reputation. In 2017 alone, nearly 50,000 asylum claims were made, which is more than double the number of asylum seekers Canada welcomed in 2016, according to the Quebec Ministry of Immigration, Diversity and Inclusion.
Many terms are used to describe newcomers to a country, including refugee, asylum seeker or immigrant. Although these words are often used interchangeably by the public, each comes with different rights and advantages. According to Richard Goldman, an immigration lawyer with the Comité d’aide aux réfugiés and one of the event’s panelists, there is a significant distinction between somebody who comes to Canada seeking refugee status and someone who claims to be an asylum seeker.
“If we take, for example, the 40,000 Syrian refugees who came here two years ago, they were selected abroad and were either government-sponsored or privately-sponsored by relatives,” Goldman said. “Once they land in Canada, they already have the status of a permanent resident.”
Permanent resident (PR) status gives a person most of the social benefits available to citizens, such as healthcare coverage and a work or study permit. After living in Canada for a certain amount of time, people with PR status can apply for Canadian citizenship.
For asylum seekers, the process is quite different. After arriving by plane or crossing the border (often illegally), asylum seekers make a refugee claim to the Immigration and Refugee Board of Canada (IRB). If that claim is approved, they obtain protected person status, and only then can they apply for PR status.
According to Goldman, because of regulatory changes made in 2012 and a lack of resources, processing a claim and setting up a hearing with the IRB can take up to 18 months rather than the 60 days it used to take. “The system has become complex,” he said.
Panelist Mireille Métellus, who is in charge of welcoming newcomers at La Maison d’Haïti community group, added that, if an asylum seeker’s request is denied by the IRB, they can appeal the decision and other courses of action are available to obtain the protected person status.
The Table de concertation des organismes au service des personnes réfugiées et immigrantes (TCRI) is a collaboration between nearly 100 organizations working to support and protect refugees and immigrants in Quebec. The group’s project manager, Florence Bourdeau, was also among the panelists. She explained that, while protected persons do not have the same access to healthcare as someone with PR status, they have the right to apply to the Interim Federal Health Program. In theory, this offers them limited, temporary healthcare coverage. However, Bourdeau said only four clinics in Montreal accept this type of coverage. The reason it is not more widely accepted, she explained, is often because many clinics don’t know about this type of coverage, or because the payment method takes longer to process.
Bourdeau also emphasized that other services offered by the Quebec Ministry of Immigration, Diversity and Inclusion, such as employment and housing services, are only available to PR holders.
Métellus said the process asylum seekers have to follow to obtain the PR status is inefficient. For example, protected persons have the right to send their children to school, but in order to do so, they need to provide an address. Yet most asylum seekers, Métellus explained, are placed in temporary housing for up to a month, and finding affordable housing is a problem for most newcomers. In addition, many protected person families can’t afford to send their young children to kindergarten or find available spots. If their children can’t be put in school, mothers will usually end up staying home, which affects their ability to enter the workforce, Bourdeau explained. “We document these issues at the TCRI. Clearly, discrimination exists,” she said. “Work needs to be done to improve this system.”
This discussion of how the current requirements make it harder for asylum seekers to integrate into society led to a question about systemic discrimination in the early stages of integration posed by panel moderator Hicham Khanafer, the project manager at the Centre social d’aide aux immigrants (CSAI). Bourdeau responded by claiming protected persons have a harder time finding a job than someone with PR status, even after they receive a work permit. This is because protected persons are not eligible for the government programs that help permanent residents find employment and navigate the Quebec labour market, she explained.
Panelist Frantz André, a member of the Comité d’action des personnes sans statut, said he agreed with the panelists, and has witnessed the discrimination and abuse vulnerable asylum seekers face when looking for employment or housing. Aude Mary, a researcher at the Bureau d’intégration des nouveaux arrivants à Montréal (BINAM), added that these people are a vulnerable clientele because their lack of knowledge about Quebec laws is often exploited.
In response, the BINAM is creating a commission that will intervene when employers or agencies take advantage of asylum seekers. Mary said she hopes Montreal’s decision last year to become a sanctuary city will lead to the development of more resources and services for newcomers since, according to Mary, more than 99 per cent of asylum seekers who arrive in Montreal stay on the island.
The Enemy is a VR installation which explores the stories of six combatants from three different conflict zones in the world. Photo courtesy of Phi Centre
Journalist Karim Ben Khelifa’s virtual reality experience challenges perceptions of war
War correspondent and photojournalist Karim Ben Khelifa spent two decades travelling through conflict zones to “understand why we fight, why we kill and the circumstances that make us able to do so.” Five years ago, Khelifa had an idea. He wanted to share the stories of the fighters he met in conflict zones through a new form of storytelling: virtual reality. “As a journalist, my goal is to put you in my shoes,” Khelifa said.
He pitched this idea to Camera Lucida Productions, an augmented reality (AR) and virtual reality (VR) company in France. “[Khelifa] wanted to find a new medium instead of photography,” said Chloé Jarry, an executive producer at Camera Lucida Productions. “The medium of photography was limited in its impact—he felt that it didn’t correspond to his expectations.”
A portrait of Karim Ben Khelifa, war correspondent and photojournalist who turned his idea into a VR installation, The Enemy. Photo Courtesy of Karim Ben Khelifa.
Khelifa’s idea developed into a VR installation that took five years to finalize with the help of Camera Lucida Productions, France TV and the National Film Board of Canada, as well as Dpt., a Montreal digital studio, and the VR company Emissive. “We all got together for a big co-production for the project to be as it is today,” Jarry said.
Until March 10, Montrealers will be able to experience this VR installation, called The Enemy, at the Phi Centre. The Enemy explores the stories of six combatants in three different conflict zones around the world: the civil war in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the gang wars in El Salvador and the Israel-Palestine conflict.
Before beginning the experience, participants are required to fill out a questionnaire about their views on war and their perceptions of those three conflicts. Then, you enter a secluded room, strap on a backpack, adjust your VR goggles and immerse yourself in the experiences of these six men. There are three separate rooms, each dedicated to one of the three conflict zones. In each room, you meet a combatant from opposite sides of the conflict. You hear two different perspectives of the same war.
“In listening to these men, you become a link in the long human chain seeking new perspectives. By engaging in the experience, you become both a participant and a witness,” Khelifa said.
You listen as Khelifa asks these men: What is violence? What is peace? What is your dream? Although both men in each room are enemies, their answers are similar. They value peace and family. “My dream, and what I long for, is to spend more time with my family, to see my daughter and grandkids together as a family,” said Jorge Alberto, one of the six men in The Enemy and a gang leader in El Salvador.
According to Khelifa, it was difficult for these fighters to answer many of his questions. “My goal was to touch the guy in a way for him to reveal part of his humanity,” he said.
Khelifa explained that his intent was to show each man the humanity of their enemy, since conflict tends to erase that understanding. “It becomes very interesting to see the reaction,” he said.
Hélène Adamo, a project manager for Camera Lucida Productions, experienced The Enemy during several test runs. “I could do it with my eyes closed,” she said with a laugh. However, it wasn’t until she actually answered the questionnaire about war and experienced the VR as a participant, rather than a tester, that she truly felt the emotions embedded in the installation. “I lost notion of time, space,” Adamo said. “During this experience, I met these people and, that, you cannot forget.”
The Enemy also exposes the stereotypes and biases held by the VR participants themselves. For example, as they stand between the men on either side of the conflict, participants must make the choice of whose story to listen to first. “This [choice] is based on you—your fears, your curiosity and your appetite for learning,” Khelifa said.
He added that the purpose of The Enemy is for participants to focus on the stories of the combatants. “I didn’t want to bring you to Gaza or to Israel,” Khelifa said. “I really wanted you to focus on the person, on the human beings, and discover for yourself.”
Through this project, Khelifa said he hopes people will be more considerate of one another. “If you are at war, and if you are part of these conflicts, the goal is to reconsider your enemy and think that he is more similar [to you] than you think,” he said.
One student’s experience and advice for being in a long-distance relationship
I have been in a long-distance relationship for the past year, and believe me when I say, I am happier than ever.
It all started two summers ago, when I went to visit my family in Beirut, Lebanon. I promised myself one thing as I arrived at the Rafic Hariri airport: no summer crush whatsoever. I was determined not to give in to the first handsome, charming Lebanese guy I met. For a little while, I stuck to my promise and enjoyed the sun, food and time with my family.
Two weeks later, I realized the promise I had made to myself was a hoax, and maybe love is just one of those things a person has no control over. That summer in Beirut taught me that love happens when you least expect it and in the most unpredictable ways.
I was sitting in a coffee shop with my cousin, casually sipping a vanilla-hazelnut latte, when a six-foot-tall guy, seemingly in his early 20s, walked over to our table. Slightly tanned, fit and sporting a beard, he asked if he could sit with us in the most polite, gentle manner.
After speaking with him for less than 10 minutes, it was obvious to me that he possessed the three traits I admire most in a man: he was courageous, down to earth and kind.
In that moment, I knew I had to give him a chance and overcome my long-distance relationship fears. The traits I saw in him, as simple as they may seem, are the hardest qualities to find in a man my age.
So here I am today, in a healthy long-distance relationship with a trustworthy man who never fails to put a smile on my face. I don’t see him often, and when I do, saying goodbye feels like a stab to the heart—but with effort and commitment, we make it work.
For anyone currently facing the challenges of a long-distance relationship, here are some tips my boyfriend and I use to overcome the difficulties of living in different time zones.
We send each other a text message every two hours
If we are not in class, writing an exam or sleeping, we send each other a text every two hours. No matter how short or unromantic the message, it doesn’t matter — What matters is that we are thinking about each other.
We communicate
We listen to each other. Whether he’s interested or not, when I call my boyfriend after a long day to talk about my assignments, he still listens carefully and shares his thoughts and opinions. This is something I admire. We always make an effort to show interest in the other person’s day, no matter how small or insignificant the details are.
We send pictures of everything
Whether it’s a picture of my lunch or a selfie while he’s brushing his teeth, visuals are the closest thing we have to reality. We use them until we run out of storage.
We pay attention to small details
A long-distance relationship needs to be handled with much more attention to detail than a normal one. Although I truly do trust him, all it takes is one misleading video on Snapchat to get me asking questions. When I’m not around him, questions and assumptions seem to naturally bubble up. I believe that’s just part of the long-distance package. To minimize this, we do not forget to charge our phones and check in. We always try to be as clear and straightforward with one another as possible.
We make sure our visits are as long as possible
We are both students on tight budgets, so needless to say, we can’t afford an overseas plane ticket every month. For that reason, we stay as long as possible when we visit each other. It gives us more time to make up for all the date nights and outings we missed during the year.
We are optimistic
Don’t compare yourself to other couples. Don’t count the days until the next time you meet, because the more you dwell on it, the longer it will seem. Most importantly, don’t lose hope. Love from both ends of the rope isn’t something you find everyday. So if you and your partner share that love, even when you’re miles apart, cherish it.
Game Curious Montreal aims to break stereotypes about dominant gaming culture
The purpose of Game Curious Montreal’s events is to “build bridges between different communities … and create a space for people who feel excluded or marginalized in dominant gaming culture,” according to Carolyn Jong, a collective member of the organization.
Attendees of the latest event, held at Café Aquin on Sunday, Jan. 28., played video games and munched on snacks, but the conversation quickly became a discussion about how the games they played addressed real-life struggles, such as oil mining and the loss of native languages due to colonialism.
In the video game Idle No More: Blockade, for example, players fight stereotypes about Indigenous people rather than physical monsters. “It’s empowering because it shows counter-arguments and ways to push back against those stereotypes,” Jong said. “[The game is] about gathering people to fight back against a corporation that’s trying to put a pipeline through Indigenous lands. I think that’s a good model and message to be shown through games.”
Game Curious Montreal is a working group of the Quebec Public Interest Research Group (QPIRG) at Concordia, a resource centre for student and community research that promotes awareness of grassroots social and environmental activism, according to the QPIRG’s website.
Gersande La Flèche, another collective member, pointed out that Game Curious Montreal events also aim to eradicate stereotypes about gamers. “We are trying to reach out to people who don’t consider themselves ‘gamers’. We want people who don’t know what video games can be or should be,” La Flèche said, emphasizing the importance of keeping an open mind. “Even if you think you’re bad at games, you’re probably not,” they said. “You just probably haven’t found the game that’s made for you.”
Similarly, Jong advises students and gamers not to give up if they feel constrained or excluded from the dominant gaming culture. “You’re not alone. There are lots of other people who probably have felt that way,” she said. “It’s the culture that’s trying to enforce the boundaries. There are a lot of different kinds of skills when it comes to games. Being good at games doesn’t matter.”
La Flèche said they believe supporting video games about resistance is a concrete way to fight back against colonialism. “The game My Grandmother’s Lingo is about [a native language] that colonialism was trying to eradicate,” they explained. “Sharing a game about your grandmother’s language and sharing words is a step of resistance as well as bringing awareness to the issue.”
However, La Flèche encouraged people to show support for Indigenous communities in the real world as well by volunteering and making donations to Indigenous resource centres and homeless shelters. “Supporting murdered and missing Indigenous women is also a big one,” they added. “[We have] women’s marches that draw so many people, so why aren’t we drawing the same amount of people to marches for murdered and missing Indigenous women?”
For Moustafa Chamli, another Game Curious Montreal member, it’s important to support video games that fight against oppression by giving representation to minority groups. “In video games, you rarely get the First Nations or black person perspective,” he said. “The barometre of standard media has been set as cis-hetero-white-male, so any differing view becomes anathema or too different.”
Chamli emphasized the necessity of giving Indigenous people space in society and the gaming world. “They have things to say. They have an anger and sadness that need to be expressed,” he said. “Understand that other cultures deserve to exist and help them grow, not by taking their space but by giving them the space that they should be having.”
Stacey McKenzie is a fashion model and the founder of the Walk This Way Workshops and The Walk Camp. Photo by Sandra Hercegova
Canadian fashion model Stacey McKenzie spoke at non-profit Never Apart’s Legend Series
“You have your passion, your dreams and your goals. Even if they are telling you no, keep going for it, because you never know where it’s going to lead you,” said Canadian fashion model Stacey McKenzie.
As a young girl living in Kingston, Jamaica, McKenzie said she never thought “in a million years” her dream of being a model would come true. She was bullied and made fun of because of her looks. However, her ambition, determination, drive and self-love led her to success.
In 2015, Vogue magazine named her one of the top five Jamaican models that have changed the face of fashion. She is also a model coach and mentor on the hit reality show series America’s Next Top Model and Canada’s Next Top Model. On Jan. 25, McKenzie was invited by the Montreal-based non-profit Never Apart to speak as part of their Legend Series, which hosts interactive panel discussions with inspirational guests.
As McKenzie walked on stage in her black stilettos, beaming with positive energy, the crowd applauded enthusiastically. She began by sharing how she pursued her career and the struggles she encountered along the way.
“Do you know how many people and designers would tell me ‘Hell no’? Tons,” McKenzie said. Among them was British fashion designer Alexander McQueen. According to McKenzie, he did not initially want her to model for him, but eventually changed his mind and hired her. “Don’t let them forget you. Keep going, and let them see you,” she said.
Throughout her talk, McKenzie highlighted the importance of never giving up. She described how she would go to castings and callbacks she wasn’t invited to. In fact, that’s how she got her first Calvin Klein campaign in 1995.
“I was never sent to the casting, but I was like, Richard Avedon is going to see me today,” she said. Avedon, a renowned fashion photographer, spotted McKenzie arguing with a security guard in front of the building where the auditions were being held. “I was trying everything under the sun to get in there,” McKenzie recounted.
When Avedon asked who she was, McKenzie replied: “Mr. Avedon, I am here for the callback.” He told her he had never seen her before, to which she responded: “Well, you are seeing me now.” To her surprise, he brought her inside. When Avedon asked her what she wanted, McKenzie said: “I want the campaign.” He gave her a 10-year contract on the spot for the Calvin Klein campaign, alongside fashion model Kate Moss.
“If I would have [waited] for my modelling agency to send me to some casting where they wanted black girls or light-skin girls, I’d be starving and I would have never gotten that Calvin Klein campaign,” she said.
Aside from modelling, McKenzie has also become an activist and youth advocate. She is the founder of the Walk This Way Workshops, where she teaches aspiring models about all aspects of the industry. McKenzie also created The Walk Camp in 2013, a free two-week summer camp where she invites 25 to 30 young girls from different communities in Toronto to meet mentors from the fashion, entertainment, arts, business and education industries. Each girl is paired with a mentor who shares the story of how they got to where they are today.
“I’m super excited about it. All of this started because I had to do everything myself,” McKenzie explained. “I didn’t have someone to guide me, to mentor me. I never had that, and I’ve always wanted that. I met a few models in my journey who didn’t have that as well, and I was shocked.”
According to McKenzie, the girls at the camp are from neighbourhoods where these types of hands-on experiences and opportunities are not accessible. McKenzie said her goal is to teach the girls to love themselves.
“I want them to be empowered and to accept who they are. I want them to be inspired and to go after their dreams and goals with confidence,” she said. This is exactly what McKenzie has done herself. “I never thought I would be able to give back,” she said. “It’s the ultimate [feeling] for me.”
