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Piecing together fragments of history

Colleen Gray brings her experience as an editor, writer and poet to the classroom

Colleen Gray was flipping through books at the St-Sulpice Library, searching for a topic for her PhD thesis, when “this person’s voice just jumped out of the book and grabbed me.” It was the voice of Marie Barbier, a teaching nun from the Congrégation de Notre-Dame who lived in Montreal between 1663 and 1739. “I had this feeling I was going to write about this woman,” Gray recounted. “I felt that her voice needed to be heard by other people.”

The book in which Gray first discovered Barbier’s voice was actually written by a male priest who had collected the nun’s writings, inserted them among his own depiction of her story and then thrown away the originals. As with so many marginalized voices in history, what remained of Barbier’s work was fragmented and corrupted.

“That’s what happened to women in history. It’s your classic paradigm of how we’ve lost our voices in history,” Gray explained.

When Gray began studying history at the undergraduate level in the 70s, it was not only the women in history who were being marginalized; little space was provided for the women seeking to study it. This was one of several factors that stopped Gray from pursuing a master’s degree at the time.

She also saw that the field of history was moving away from a narrative discourse and focusing more on quantitative analysis. As a writer and a long-time poet, it was a shift Gray wasn’t willing to make. “That was just a little bit over the edge for me,” she said. “So I thought, ‘Well it’s time for me to step outside of that area.’”

Over the next two decades or so, Gray traveled and taught English as a second language; she edited manuscripts, had children and worked for the Science Council of Canada. In the early 90s, however, something began to change.

“I started to feel like time was running out, and if I wanted to really do something in academia and poetry, I had to do it now,” Gray said. Even her poetry, which she had continued to write and publish over the years, focused on historical themes in Montreal and seemed to demand the footnotes that characterize scholarly writing.

When she returned to university to complete her master’s, Gray was surprised to find that, not only had narrative history made a comeback, but women had also taken centre stage in her field.

“I came back at just the right time,” she said. “The beginning of my PhD was a wonderful adventure, a wonderful exploration in women and women’s voices and women’s archives. It was just such a liberation for me to be able to do that and do that with integrity without hiding it.”

A few years after she completed her PhD at McGill University in 2004, Gray decided it was time to rescue Barbier’s voice as best she could. The process involved transcribing, translating and annotating the nun’s writings to give them context. Compiled in the latter half of Gray’s book, As a Bird Flies, Barbier’s writings tell their own story. For the last three years, Gray has been writing a biographical introduction for the book—an endeavour that has grown from an anticipated 10 pages to nearly 100.

“It wouldn’t have gotten bigger if I hadn’t seen, as I was doing it, […] how much more real she became and how much more we could understand her life if it was presented this way,” Gray explained.

Yet a comparison can be made between the priest’s appropriation of Barbier’s work and the way Gray is presenting the nun’s writings. In fact, it was a realization that slowed down the progress of As a Bird Flies. “I was very judgmental with what he had done when I started the project, but as the journey advanced, I realized that I have no right to judge him because that’s what I’m doing,” Gray said.

The difference, Gray explained, is that she has preserved the integrity of Barbier’s writings in the second half of her book for people to read and interpret on their own. “I didn’t throw her writings away, and I tried to be as true as possible to the original source as I encountered it,” she said. “It’s corrupted, but the fact remains—and this is something that is difficult to prove—you can hear her voice.”

Colleen Gray reads an excerpt from her book, No Ordinary School, at The Study in 2015. Photo courtesy of Colleen Gray.

Part of the challenge has also been striking a balance between historical accuracy and an engaging narrative. “It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do,” Gray said with a laugh. “I just reach a point where I can’t do it anymore, and I have to do something else.”

For Gray, there is always something else to do because the trajectory of her career has allowed her to remain “diversified,” as she put it. Although completing her master’s and PhD later in life didn’t make her an ideal candidate for tenure, Gray said that path “wasn’t in the cards” for her anyway. Instead, she has worked as a part-time professor at Concordia since 2006, and also taught at Queen’s, McGill and Nipissing University in North Bay, Ont.

Most of the courses she teaches—including her pre-civil war American history class at Concordia this semester—are what she refers to as “survey courses.” Typically assigned to part-time professors, these classes take a broad look at long periods of history and have allowed Gray to diversify her own expertise.

“Now, I’m no longer this 17th century PhD specialist,” she explained. “I have really a broad, expansive understanding of North American history—both American and Canadian perspectives—and history from women, from natives, from different ethnic groups.”

Unfortunately, cutbacks in education in general have significantly reduced the number of courses available to part-time faculty in the history department, Gray said. The last course she taught was in 2016. While her freelance writing and editing offer her other sources of income, “it’s very difficult to rely on being a part-time faculty member,” she admitted. “It’s inconsistent and it’s insecure, but it has its advantages too.”

Gray said she enjoys being able to teach and still have time to work on her poetry and her freelance writing and editing. “You get to develop yourself outside of that box,” she said. It is this ongoing personal and professional development that can make part-time faculty members a unique asset to students.

“Many of us are not mainstream academics,” Gray said. “I have one side of me that is, but I’m a poet, I’m an editor. I have a lot of these different dimensions that I do bring to the classroom.”

She added that she feels her “roundabout journey” to the academic world is a valuable life experience she can share with her students. “When they come to me for help with their essays, you can’t help but talk to them about what they’re going to do and what they want to do and if they feel they should be doing history,” she explained. What Gray said she hopes students can learn from her experience is to see the bigger picture.

“It looks so difficult when you’re young. It seems so narrow, and there don’t seem to be any openings,” she said. “Maybe at the moment [history] is not for you, but that doesn’t mean 10 years down the line it’s not going to be. […] People change directions all the time, and it’s not looked down upon.”

Although these interactions allow Gray to mentor students to a certain degree, she said part-time professors are limited in the work they can do with students outside of the classroom. In particular, she said the fact that part-time faculty are not allowed to supervise a master’s or PhD thesis is “a huge restriction” for her.

“I feel I am very qualified to do so, and I feel stifled by that [restriction],” she said. “It’s understandable, because I’m not working sometimes, but so what? I would continue to supervise somebody’s work even if I wasn’t teaching just because I’m interested in it.”

For Gray, being interested in the subjects she engages with is a driving force for her work. “Writing is always a headache,” she said. “But it can be so invigorating as well, if you get the right project.”

This was the case for a book Gray wrote in 2015 as part of the centennial celebrations of The Study, a Montreal private school. “It was like the Marie Barbier project,” Gray said. “It jumped out at me that I wanted to do this project.”

The result, No Ordinary School: The Study, 1915-2015, “was a two-year, huge, under-the-gun project,” Gray recounted. The process involved sifting through old student newspapers and the school’s archives, as well as speaking with former students, teachers and headmistresses.

“There were 90-year-old women with wonderful memories, and they could give me the history of their school and what it was like during World War II,” Gray said. “One person could even go back as far as the 1920s.”

Part of what kept Gray engaged as she rushed to meet her deadline was the connection she felt to the women she was writing about. “It was almost like reliving my girlhood as a privileged private school girl,” she said with a laugh. While some people may have perceived these students as snobbish, upper-class girls, Gray didn’t approach it that way.

“I saw it as having a wonderful girlhood where you had the best education that was available for women at that time,” she explained. “I looked at it from a different angle, and stepped into those shoes.”

For Gray, being able to put herself in her subjects’ shoes and immerse herself in the material is crucial. “I wouldn’t take up a project unless I could do that, because it’s fun,” she said. “If it’s a project where you don’t want to put yourself into it like that, then that’s for somebody else to do; it’s not for me.”

..

At the age of 10, Colleen Gray discovered poetry. It was the spark for her career as a writer. “[Poetry] is something I’ve always had, that I’ve always done,” she said. Gray’s poems have appeared in literary journals such as The Canadian Forum, Zymergy and Fiddlehead, and she has performed her work at venues like the Yellow Door.

Consolidating her interests in history and poetry did not come naturally to Gray at first. “It took me a while to see the two of them merge,” she said. Although Gray has experimented with confessional and political poetry, historical topics often become the focus of her poems. “It’s not strictly history—it’s interpretive history,” she explained. “[The facts] are still there, but you can play with them a little bit more.”

Atironta, ca. 1650 1

(I am Atironta, son of mighty warriors)

… and in the silence of the night I pray

to you my Holy Mother, Blessed Virgin

                    my lighted

candle flickers in wind howling through the bark

of our longhouse and beyond the forests, above

the pine trees rushing into the mist of a thousand

cataracts I follow the wind to our home

                        Huron Land

(Holy Mother, Blessed Virgin, save us)

… our dead are strewn beneath the earth

their groans echo in my prayers –

                    you have not released our souls

                    to our Villages of the Dead

                        Atironta, mighty warrior

  • Loosely based on a historical person, Pierre Atironta, survivor of the dispersal of the Hurons by the Iroquois in the late 1640s, appearing in Reuben Thwaites, ed., The Jesuit Relations and Allied Documents (Cleveland: The Burrows Brothers Company). Published in Matrix: Writing Worth Reading 32 (Fall 1990): 37.
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Student Life

Being a tourist three hours from home

Moments captured at the Quebec Winter Carnival amongst friends

When my best friend moved to Quebec City this winter, I knew I had to visit her as many times as I could. What better time to do so than during the Quebec Winter Carnival?

Quebec City has a special spark. There is something about the friendly people of this city that makes you feel warm and cozy while navigating the narrow streets. Everyone smiles at you.

As my two best friends and I headed towards the carnival in Old Quebec last Saturday, a father of two sitting next to us on the bus asked where we were from, since we were speaking English. His name was Moussa Sarr. He has a PhD in sociology and is the ex-deputy for the federal minister of transport, infrastructure and collectivity. Sarr emphasized the importance of education and embracing different cultures when we told him we were there to explore the city.

Many families gathered in Old Quebec for the annual Quebec Winter Carnival’s numerous outdoor activities. Photo by Mia Anhoury.

He asked us about the languages we speak. We determined that all four of us could speak French, English and Spanish. “I know a language you don’t know,” Sarr added enthusiastically. The language was Wolof, which is native to Senegal, the Gambia and Mauritania.

Once we arrived at the Grande Allée near the Château Frontenac, a snow sculpture caught my attention. Made by local artists Charles Fleury, Blaise Carrier Chouinard and Péïo Éliceiry, the sculpture was called Toboggan. It depicts a man sliding down a hill on a toboggan. Dressed in a bulky coat and mittens, he seemed immune to the cold, despite being made of snow. His open-mouth smile showed he was amused by the imaginary ride.

Little did we know, the imaginary ride was real. Despite the cold, dozens of people waited in line further down the street for a chance to slide down the hill on a bright red sleigh. Tourists and locals alike were enjoying themselves as they used selfie sticks to captured the fast, slippery moment on camera.

Near the base of the slide, the Bonhomme Carnaval snowman stood behind a frame with a colourful background, creating the perfect photo opportunity for families and friends. Although no one was skating on the rink nearby, the laughter from kids running—or, should I say, gliding—on the ice filled the air. All afternoon, people took turns huddling around a small fire pit near the skating rink, trying to stay warm.

All day, people took turns huddling around a fire pit to stay warm at the carnival. Photo by Mia Anhoury.

My friends and I decided to end the day by going skating at a different rink where we could rent skates. As we glided around the rink — my friends showing off their skating skills while I tried to catch up — we bumped into our new friend Sarr from the bus. A big smile broke out on his face when he spotted us on the rink.

“I knew I was going to see you girls again,” he cried out. We told him about our day at the carnival, and he said he would be headed there the following day.

Throughout our excursion, my friends and I spoke English to one another, which prompted many people to ask us where we were from. Being a tourist in your own province is quite an experience, and it’s funny to be able to respond: “I only live three hours away from you!”

The Quebec Winter Carnival runs until Feb. 11 in Old Quebec.

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Student Life

Concordia, let’s talk about our wellbeing

Learn about the university’s resources and services at Chime In’s mental health fair

Last year, Bell Let’s Talk brought together members of the Concordia community looking to keep the conversation about mental health going throughout the year. They joined forces to create Chime In, a group aimed at informing students about the mental health resources available to them on campus and in their community. With this goal in mind, Chime In will be hosting a mental health fair on Jan. 31—which coincides with this year’s Bell Let’s Talk Day.

Chime In—an acronym that stands for connectedness, hope, identity, meaning and empowerment—is a collaborative effort between Concordia students and student organizations, the university’s counselling and psychological services, as well as the Montreal-based non-profit Collective Community Services (CCS). Also among the group’s members are Jack.org, a national organization that aims to eliminate the stigma around mental health, and the Concordia Students’ Nightline, an evening and weekend listening service.

“As a counselling service, we realized that we can’t do everything alone,” said Howard Magonet, the director of Concordia’s counselling and psychological services. “The more partners we have to go out and talk about mental health to reduce stigma of mental illness, the better.”

The mental health fair will welcome representatives from Chime In and other Concordia services, such as the campus wellness and support services, the Sexual Assault Resource Centre (SARC), recreation and athletic services, Concordia’s Multi-faith and Spirituality Centre and the Native Resource Centre. “The fair will provide a really important forum and fabric to the community,” said Alia Nurmohamed, a Chime In student representative.

“Often people don’t have the vocabulary to even understand what they are going through,” said Jillian Ritchie, a spokesperson for CCS. “[So we] help give them the resources and the information they need.”

Chime In’s goal is to change the discourse around mental health by focusing on a holistic view—taking care of one’s wellbeing at all levels. According to Concordia psychologist Irene Petsopoulis, the fair will focus on the four pillars of mental health: physical, emotional, spiritual and mental. There will be activities showing the value of physical exercise in improving mental health. The fair will also showcase alternative methods to talk therapy, such as pet or art therapy, the latter of which is offered by community art studios called Art Hives.

Some people feel more comfortable using one technique to improve mental health rather than another, Magonet explained. The fair will expose students to a wide range of methods so they see how varied the help can be and determine what feels right for them, he added.

The fair’s inviting environment will encourage students to ask questions and find out what resources are available to them, Nurmohamed said. “[The fair] starts a conversation that invites people in a way that is not intimidating,” she added. “We’re at a turning point in the way we converse about mental health.”

The mental health fair will take place on Wednesday, Jan. 31 from 10 a.m. to 3 p.m. in the atrium of the EV building. For more information about the event, visit the Concordia website.

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Student Life

A passion for justice through filmmaking

Dipti Gupta has been teaching for 17 years and directed the South Asian Film Festival

“During my 20s, I used to constantly read about things that were happening in India, and it made me feel extremely angry and uncomfortable,” said Dipti Gupta, an independent documentary filmmaker, researcher and multidisciplinary artist. “I wanted to do something which would lead to justice—to a fair society for all. I thought that the pen as well as the camera were two very significant and strong tools that could bring change.”

Gupta used her writing and passion for film as tools to shape her career. In the 1980s, she regularly contributed to magazines and won many writing competitions, but she said there were no university programs in India that offered courses in filmmaking or journalism at that time. While she was studying political science and commercial art at the University of Delhi, however, she met Siddharth Sanyal.

At the time, Sanyal was producing magazines under an organization called Workbench, and he took Gupta on as a proofreader. Workbench’s office was in the same building as the production company Cinemart Foundation, which produced political and socially relevant documentaries. The company was headed by documentary filmmakers Suhasini Mulay and Tapan Bose, who became inspirations to Gupta.

One of the first documentary films Gupta saw was An Indian Story (1981), a story about the suppression of civil and democratic rights in a democratic nation. Created by Mulay and Bose, the documentary focused on a series of incidents that took place between 1979 and 1980 in Bihar, India where more than 30 people on trial were blinded with acid by the police. “It made me angry and moved me no end,” Gupta said. “At 20, it made me aware of the many injustices in our world.”

An interview with Bhavna Pani. Photo courtesy of Dipti Gupta

Gupta said she was very keen to work for Mulay. “I had seen her work and had admired her immensely,” she said. Despite her ambition, Mulay was reluctant to give Gupta a job. She told her: “Do you see any other women working in this organization?” When Gupta replied that there were only men, Mulay said: “Well, then you will not survive here.”

Nonetheless, Mulay ended up hiring Gupta because “she realized that, even though I looked really scrawny and small, I had a lot of guts.” Gupta got most of her training in the field while working for Mulay and Bose. “I learned a lot while working with her. She became my mentor, and today, she is a very dear friend,” Gupta said.

In addition to giving Gupta some challenging assignments—one of which required her to travel to a remote part of Delhi to interview a Hindu fundamentalist group—Mulay was also the one who introduced Gupta to her husband. He was working as a playwright in Canada, and Gupta eventually moved to Montreal in 1991 to be with him. “When you look back in life, you realize that there was some kind of a path,” Gupta said. “All the dots connect now.” Gupta’s husband runs the Montreal theatre company Teesri Duniya Theatre, which is dedicated to producing socially and politically relevant plays. Gupta has been on the company’s board since arriving in Canada.

When she first moved to Montreal, Gupta wanted to work for Studio D, a National Film Board of Canada studio dedicated to producing women’s documentaries. Unfortunately, the studio closed in 1996 due to a lack of funding. Around that time, “there wasn’t much work for new immigrants and someone who had very little or no Canadian work experience,” Gupta said.

After working for a short time with a few documentary filmmakers, including Martin Duckworth, Gupta decided to go back to school. She completed a bachelor’s degree in communication studies and got her master’s in media studies, both at Concordia University. During her studies, Gupta had a special interest in social and women’s issues. For her 1998 master’s thesis, “Confronting the challenge of distribution: Women documentary filmmakers in India,” Gupta interviewed several female filmmakers in India about the challenges they faced.

“I focused on women who had addressed issues of poverty and violence, women who were focussing on everyday struggles in society, be it education, social injustices, gender discrimination,” Gupta said. “There were so many things happening, and that’s what inspired me to do my master’s work.”

A group photo with the committee members and organizers of the South Asian Film Festival. Photo courtesy of Dipti Gupta.

Twenty years later, these challenges are still prevalent. “I just came back from India a few days ago, and what is really sad is that not a lot has changed,” Gupta said. “People are making good films, but there is still very little funding, and today, many artists are also facing state censorship.”

After completing her master’s, Gupta began her PhD studies at McGill University in art history and communications. However, Gupta’s daughter made her realize she wanted to work in a system that would allow her the flexibility needed to take care of her child while doing research and teaching.

Gupta has now been teaching in the cinema-video-communications department at Dawson College for 17 years. She is also a part-time faculty member at Concordia where she teaches art forms of Bollywood cinema. However, she still feels sad that she never completed her dissertation at McGill, despite finishing all her course work. She said she hopes her current work may help her eventually finish it.

Gupta’s pedagogy has always focused on exploring situations or moments in history that have brought about change. “I have consciously created courses which highlight and focus on the evolution of society and the community,” she said. “I always recognize that we are ever fortunate to have an education, and we need to use this privilege to create a fair democratic society in every way.”

According to Gupta, teaching at the CEGEP level has been an extremely humbling experience. “I always remember and recognize how I was at that stage of my life as I teach these young minds. I was idealistic and had huge dreams. It is an impressionable age. Hence, we as teachers have a huge responsibility towards this age group,” Gupta said. “My focus on my teaching has always been to make sure that I can inspire students and give them tools to prepare them for their future studies and careers.”

A portrait of Dipti Gupta, an independent documentary filmmaker, researcher and multidisciplinary artist. Photo by Sandra Hercegova.

At Concordia, Gupta’s art forms of Bollywood course focuses on the study of the construct of mythology—marriage, motherhood, masculinity and misogyny—within Indian cinema, especially films coming out of Mumbai. “My aim through that is to look at this particular construct and also to break certain stereotypes that exist while viewing and engaging with popular culture from India,” she explained.

Currently, Gupta is working on a new documentary film which explores these topics. “I think cinema gives us that window to explore and study the trends—after all, art imitates life and life often imitates art.”

These are ideas Gupta promotes outside of the classroom as well. For the last seven years, she has been on the organizing committee for the South Asian Film Festival. Hosted by the Kabir Cultural Centre, a charitable organization in Montreal, the festival highlights the work of South Asian filmmakers that focus on contemporary issues in India, Pakistan, Sri Lanka, Bangladesh, Nepal and Afghanistan. In 2017, Gupta worked as the festival’s programming director alongside her friend and fellow director Karan Singh.

One film featured in last year’s festival that particularly stood out to Gupta was A Billion Colour Story. Directed by Mumbai-based filmmaker N. Padmakumar, the film discusses communal tensions and identity issues in India. It was voted Best Film by the festival’s audience.

“The film took my breath away—with its story, it’s beautifully composed shots and the acting,” Gupta said. “[N. Padmakumar] made one of the most incredibly humane stories I have seen on screen, and it is a must-watch.”

The work Gupta does for the south asian film festival is entirely voluntary as it is a volunteer-driven festival. According to Gupta, teaching at Dawson and being a part-time employee gives her more time to contribute to other projects, such as the festival. “I am growing older, and I am realizing the urgency to contribute as well as give back to the community that has really supported me,” she said.

Dipti Gupta alongside filmmaker N. Padmakumar.

In terms of support, as a part-time faculty member at Concordia, Gupta said she feels that the Concordia University Part-time Faculty Association (CUPFA) is supportive and generous when it comes to providing grants for research. However, the research grants are not very large. “Often, as teachers, we end up putting in our own money to pursue the work,” she said.

According to Gupta, even if part-time professors only teach one or two courses, the number of hours that one puts in to create a course, to mentor or give feedback to each student is still the same as any full-time teacher. “The sad part is that, often, we are not even sure if we will continue to teach the class the following term—so you can be putting in all this work for just one term or maybe two,” Gupta added.

According to Gupta, the vice-president of CUPFA, Lorraine Oades, has created interesting forums/micro-talks on campus for part-time faculty. “Every time we get a CUPFA grant, we come and talk about our research work and the kind of contributions we are making in our discipline,” she explained. “This is very helpful.”

Aside from the film festival and teaching, Gupta is an independent filmmaker herself. Using funding from CUPFA, she made a short documentary film in 2014 alongside Karan Singh called At Home in the World. The short film celebrates over 100 years of Indian cinema in the multicultural city of Montreal. It explores Montrealers’ love of Indian cinema and their understanding of films from that country.

Gupta said establishing connections with people has been important to her life and her success. “One encounter can create a lifetime of great bonds—that is what I have learned through this entire journey,” she said. “You just have to have love in your heart and respect for people, and you will go a long way.”

As for women who aspire to become documentary filmmakers, Gupta had one piece of advice: “The key as a filmmaker and as an artist is to identify what inspires you, what drives you. I think, in your heart, you always know.”

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I can’t wait for tomorrow

Growing up as a first-generation Canadian and the milestone of turning 24

In February 1990, my mother left communist Czechoslovakia for a new life. It was her first time on a plane and her first time in North America. She had dreamt about moving to North America since she was a teenager to escape communism, learn English and to be free.

She took one suitcase with her, leaving family and friends behind for the unknown that awaited her. She was 24 years old. As my mother waved goodbye to her mother at the airport, little did she know that would be the last time she ever saw her.

My mother arrived in Montreal speaking little English and no French, making it difficult to find a job. During her search, she came across a clothing store. My father was the owner and, as an immigrant from Georgia, he knew the struggle of finding your first job here. He hired her, and they started dating. A few years later, on Jan. 24, 1994, I was born. In December 1996, my father closed his stores, left us and left the country. My mother became a single mother in a foreign country without the support of a family.

I heard this story many times as a kid. Every time I heard it, I thought to myself that, one day, when I turned 24, I would want to do something just as courageous as my mother had. On the other hand, I also think about how afraid she must have been to be alone with a child, not knowing how she was going to provide for her.

Growing up as a first-generation Canadian came with its challenges. I had to go to French school and, since my mother barely spoke French and could not afford a tutor, learning French was confusing. She would use a French-to-English dictionary and then an English-to-Slovak dictionary to explain my homework to me. It seemed to take forever and, often times, we would quarrel.

I also watched my mom hustle every day and learned early on how immigrants have to work twice as hard to be recognized. She had several different jobs to ensure we had a clean place to live, food and clothes. We never had a car, but we always found a way to get around. Every day, she would get up at 6 a.m. and walk me to school. After a full day at work, she would pick me up from school at 6 p.m. and we would walk home. On the weekends, we would travel by bus for an hour and a half to get to my dance school. She would wait for me during my two-hour lesson, and then we would travel back home together. My mother showed me at a young age that anything is possible “if you’re not a lazy bum,” which is what she still says to this day.

My childhood was full of challenges that my mother and I surmounted together. She made me fall in love with life, and her work ethic inspired me to no end. According to my mother, as a child, every night before being tucked in for bed, I would tell her: “I can’t wait for tomorrow.” Tomorrow happens to be my 24th birthday, and I cannot wait to become the courageous woman my mother taught me to be.

 

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When candid moments turn into inspiring stories

A glimpse into my experience at NASH and the people I met along the way

The first time I heard about NASH was when I began my journey as a contributor for The Concordian over two years ago. Since then, I envisioned attending the gala and possibly winning an award—it was a nice daydream I had every now and then.

Little did I know, this daydream would become reality. This year, from Jan. 4 to 7, I attended NASH for the first time. NASH is an annual gathering of student journalists from across Canada. I got on a bus to Toronto, impatient to meet people who, like me, shared a passion for journalism.

The featured conferences and panels held by professional journalists inspired me. In particular, the “Photojournalism and Beyond” talk given by photographer, writer and interactive storyteller Laurence Butet-Roch on interactive visual storytelling gave me the urge to explore my own idea of multimedia journalism.

Owner of Ozzy’s hamburger restaurant, Ozgur Sekar, alongside his business partner, Turgay Kirbiyik, as they flip burgers and share their story. Photo by Sandra Hercegova

After her talk, I decided to follow my intuition. I left the hotel, got in a cab and headed straight to Kensington Market. The unbearable cold did not stop me; if anything, it made it more thrilling.

While walking down Kensington Avenue taking test shots, a man noticed me and said: “Take a photo of me.” I replied, “Can I?” He turned around and posed for the camera. He then happily greeted me while pointing to his T-shirt, which read “Ozzy.” His name was Ozgur Sekar and he owned Ozzy, a hamburger restaurant down the street. “Are you hungry? I’ll make you the best burger you ever had.” To this question, the answer will always be yes.

love Kensington Market and truly have a passion for cooking and making people smile,” said restaurant owner Ozgur Sekar. Photo by Sandra Hercegova

As I entered the cozy burger shack, I noticed album covers spread out on the wall, including those of David Bowie, Whitney Houston and Pink Floyd. I took photos while Sekar and his business partner, Turgay Kirbiyik, began flipping burgers on the grill. It had only been three years since Sekar arrived in Canada from Turkey and only a month since he opened this restaurant.

“As a new immigrant to Canada, you face many challenges in starting and operating a business in a vibrant city such as Toronto,” he said. “I have known my business partner since I’ve been in Canada. […] One day, we met up and committed to opening a burger restaurant, and the rest is history. I am finally living my dream.”

Another customer sat in the restaurant. His name was Michael Caligiuri. He noticed my camera and said: “You know, you don’t need a camera to take photos. We are constantly photographing with our eyes and memory.” I wholeheartedly agreed; I have always thought of our eyes as camera lenses. I replied by saying I feel technology gets in the way of our natural recording process, to which he answered: “Oh yeah, I call cell phones the self-contemplation device.” Intrigued, I asked him to join me at my table for lunch since we were both alone.

“Rest from training to gather philosophy. Which means: No rest for the praying. Thinking on my feet. Thinking with my feet. Letting my feet think.” A poem by Caligiuri. Photo by Sandra Hercegova

Caligiuri happened to be a poet. He had a notepad filled with his poetry written in bright colours which he read to me. “I don’t write poetry,” he said. “I draw letters. I make words easy to read.”

After finishing our delicious burgers, we left the restaurant and Caligiuri asked to accompany me during my photography session. I began learning about his adventurous and spiritual life and took photographs of him at the market.

Michael Caligiuri asked me what I thought about letters. I said to him: “I love them.” So, we exchanged letters on the street. Photo by Sandra Hercegova

Time was running short, as I had to return to NASH to attend more conferences. As I said goodbye to my new friend, he asked me what I thought about letters. I told him that I loved them, so he got down on the ground, pulled out a marker and paper and wrote me a beautiful letter.

Exploring Kensington Market, with its numerous cheese shops and bright, contrasting colours. Photo by Sandra Hercegova

As I was walking away, I decided to turn around and grab one more candid shot of him. Caligiuri happened to turn around at the same time which made for a great photo.

That day I learned that stories are everywhere. Sometimes we just need to put the camera down and talk to the people we are photographing.

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Student Life

A night in the life of a Barfly

A creative storytelling series by Concordia students

My interest in Barfly started this past summer when I was first discovering new bars in Montreal by myself. At a bar called Grumpy’s, I had a funny conversation with two strangers, who were brother and sister, about the definition of a barfly. Barfly (noun): a person who spends too much time drinking in bars. The brother recommended that I visit Barfly at least once, hailing it as the best dive bar in the city.

I hadn’t planned on going to Barfly this Saturday night. Originally, I was headed off to my friend Sarina’s house, but it turns out I had mixed up the dates of her birthday party, so I made new plans. Earlier that week, I had seen a Facebook event for two bands who would be playing that night. Excited to hear some good live music, I decided to check out Barfly for a spontaneous rock-and-roll adventure.

I got on a bus in front of St-Laurent metro and as I got off, I  immediately spotted the bar right across the street. Not sure what to expect, I opened the door and went to sit in the middle of the bar. To my surprise, my Facebook friend Steve, who was playing drums that night, was sitting right beside me. He didn’t recognize me until I pulled out a pen from my purse and started drawing a picture of Pennywise the clown. After awhile, I noticed that there was another person engaged in creative work.

Across from me, there was a bearded man writing and drawing in a sketchbook. Even though we never spoke a word to each other the entire night, seeing this like-minded individual made me feel less weird. I was happy to be sitting next to Steve since he always has interesting stories to share and he appreciates my talent as a visual artist. We talked about our addiction to tattoos and where he got the fork-shaped piece of jewelry that he was wearing.

The funniest part of the night was when my English teacher, who taught me short fiction two years ago, showed up. He commented that he knew the author of the poetry book I was reading. It never ceases to surprise me how small social circles are in Montreal. When the second band of the night started playing, a quirky and drunk old man got up on stage and started dancing. When he got too carried away, his lady friend grabbed him off the stage and forced him to sit down. There was a moment when time seemed to slow down. I stopped watching the stage and looked around at the crowd of people who were nodding their heads along with the rhythm of the music.

I felt like a fly on the wall, quietly observing the strange mix of people around me. Even though I was probably the youngest person at the bar, I felt a sense of belonging to this group of strangers who wouldn’t judge me. Everyone gathered there that night was longing for an  alcoholic escape from the stresses of everyday life like me. At midnight, I decided to start heading home. I walked out into the night and spotted the drunk old man outside with his pants down peeing into the wind. A couple laughed at his exposed privates as they passed by.

Spontaneous adventures like this night are important because they remind me that I can still have fun by myself. I seek comfort in going to bars alone to renew my sense of independence. Going to Barfly was a fun night filled with good music and quirky individuals.

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin

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Student Life

A Syrian cook makes a home in Montreal

A day in the life of Wafaa Maalouli, co-owner and cook at Bab Sharqi, a traditional Syrian restaurant

When you walk into the Bab Sharqi restaurant in the St-Laurent borough, there are round wooden arches on the wall. The centre arch has an oil painting of the actual Bab Sharqi, known as the Eastern Gate, which are the doors leading into the old city of Damascus in Syria.

The restaurant serves Syrian cuisine—everything from traditional appetizers, including stuffed grape leaves and kibbeh, to charcoal grilled meats with authentic seasoning. The restaurant celebrated its one-year anniversary in Montreal on Oct. 29.

Traditional meals like charcoal grilled kebabs, grape leaves and baba ghanouj make Bab Sharqi a delicious home for Syrians in Montreal. Photo by Mia Anhoury

However, Wafaa Maalouli, the cook and co-owner of the restaurant, has a story that goes back much further than one year. Before she moved to Canada in 2014, Maalouli was a popular caterer in Damascus. She cooked everything from ma’amoul, a traditional Syrian desert, to savory appetizers like sambousek, the Middle Eastern version of samosas. These foods were not only time consuming to make, but could only be done by hand.

Things became unstable when the war in Syria began in 2011. After her husband passed away, Maalouli decided to move to Canada to be reunited with her children, who were attending Montreal universities at the time. Initially, she wanted to open a catering business in Montreal for small parties, reunions or even students who lived on their own. But Samer Assis, her brother, had bigger plans for her. He encouraged her to pursue her dream of opening a restaurant.

Maalouli described it as surreal when Bab Sharqi first opened its doors. Many of the decorations around the restaurant were brought from Syria. A hand-carved metal ornament plate and an old rose water kettle hang on the wall. Next to them is an oud, a traditional Middle Eastern instrument similar to a guitar. There is also a picture frame displaying a collage made from the wrappers of Syrian snacks and bars.

“My brother and I wanted this restaurant to feel like home to Syrians, and to those who didn’t know Syria to feel like they were there” Maalouli said in Arabic. Even the fabric of the couches was imported from Aleppo, she added.

Here is how a day in her life goes:

Morning:

“It’s incredible how time flies fast here,” Maalouli said. “It didn’t use to feel like this in Syria.” She wakes up every morning at 6 a.m. The first thing she does is pour herself two cups of Arabic coffee. “It’s the only time I give to myself for the day,” she explained.

An hour later, Maalouli is the first to arrive at the restaurant. She looks at her journal and scans the orders she has due for the next few days. Then she decides what she needs to prepare that day. The cooking begins as soon as she writes up her list.

Maalouli always has double the responsibilities, juggling the restaurant and her catering orders. Her mornings are reserved for preparing the catering orders.

Afternoon:

“Once I put on my apron and start cooking, I’m on a roll and I spend my day in the kitchen,” Maalouli said. Assis comes in around 1 p.m. to help with the food deliveries. He also takes note of all the food that needs to be ordered and re-stocked.

Maalouli’s employees are all Syrian refugees with restaurant experience who have recently moved to Montreal. “It felt like a natural thing to hire Syrian refugees,” she said. “I felt it was my duty to help them.”

Every Tuesday, Maalouli stocks up on cold food, like her famous tabbouleh salad and her tasty hummus. Every tabbouleh batch is made with fresh ingredients, from the tomatoes to the parsley to the mint. The oil and bulgur used in her recipes are imported from Syria.

Evening:

Co-owner and cook Wafaa Maalouli alongside her brother and co-owner Samer Assis at the Bab Sharqi restaurant. Photo by Mia Anhoury

In the evening, customers begin to fill up the restaurant, and the rush begins. “While it may look like a party, I know that everyone in the kitchen is running around to get everything ready,” said one of the waiters, Bahaa Alicham, in Arabic. He explained that not a single meal is served without Maalouli checking to make sure it’s perfect.

“Being part of this has made me feel like I am part of a family,” Alicham added. “When I see her too frustrated or stressed about an order, I’m there for her. I tell her to take a break for a second.”

Throughout the evening, while people are enjoying their dinner, Assis swings by the tables to make sure everything is to the customers’ liking. Maalouli said she always tries to leave the kitchen to greet customers too. Knowing that everyone is enjoying her food, whether they are Middle Eastern or Canadian, it’s her favourite part of the day.

Although she has a chef in charge of the grill and the meats, Maalouli is in charge of everything else. “I always like to keep challenging myself, and to compete with other Middle Eastern restaurants,” she said. “I started making something no one else here does: the dessert ma’amoul with cheese.” Indeed, no one else in Montreal cooks this specialty from Latakia, a city on Syria’s northwestern coast.

Maalouli’s day ends with a messy kitchen and a deep breath in as she starts thinking about the next day. “I love that I get to wake up everyday and do what I love,” she said. “Not many people get to say that.”

Photo by Mia Anhoury

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Student Life

The ever-evolving world of fashion business

The Fashion Business Uncovered conference gathers entrepreneurs to discuss the future of retail

A gathering of world-renowned entrepreneurs shared their experiences in the fashion industry on Nov. 17 during the fifth edition of the Fashion Business Uncovered conference, hosted by advertising company Sid Lee.

Among these entrepreneurs were Gregoire Baret, a general manager for Aldo Group; Marie-Pierre Bossé, a store manager for the Montreal-based Groupe Dynamite, which includes the Dynamite and Garage brands; and Hugo Thibault, the senior director of global communications and digital marketing for the coat brand Mackage.

According to Megan Munroe, the co-executive director of Fashion Business Uncovered, this year’s event brought together more invitees and speakers than previous years. “The reason why everyone is here is because they want a career in fashion, so we really wanted to pay homage to that,” she said.

Charles de Brabant, executive director of the McGill University Bensadoun School of Retail Management, was invited as a guest speaker. Photo by Alex Hutchins

Inviting successful entrepreneurs from the fashion industry to speak at these events, Munroe added, is a great way to shed light on the success stories of people in the industry and showcase different perspectives about fashion. “The essence of our event is to educate people who may only have an education in business and how they can apply that to a hobby they are really passionate about [like fashion],” Munroe said. “Our goal is to show that there are so many ways that you can work in the fashion industry that extend beyond just designing or modelling.”

Several of the speakers emphasized how fashion and business are changing rapidly. According to Baret, the main issue now is that retail stores are trying to compete with the efficiency online stores, such as Amazon, provide costumer’s. “It forces the industry to redefine the role of retail stores,” he said. “The waiting time [for customers] has shortened because of offers and commerce. Now, it is normal to instantly get your product, a wider set of choices and instant product recommendations.”

However, Baret said he still believes in the importance of human contact in the consumer’s experience. “Today, despite everything, the physical moments in a retail store are important for giving advice and guidance, as well as the physical contact with the product,” he said. He also pointed out that technology cannot replace face-to-face communication. “It gives you a human side, a point of view where technology cannot replace a seller or a human,” Baret said, adding that these interactions in retail “help to give a supplementary quality service.”

Gregoire Baret, general manager for Aldo Group advised business students to take risks and learn from their failures. Photo by Alex Hutchins

According to Charles de Brabant, the executive director of the McGill University Bensadoun School of Retail Management, changes in the technology and fashion industries are giving companies new ways to grow their business. “The biggest change is in the digital space, from social media to e-commerce,” he said. “It allows certain business models to survive and thrive, because the community is a global community and that’s the way fashion has evolved.”

Despite all the changes, de Brabant pointed out that the fashion business industry still makes a difference in the lives of consumers. “The reason why I love this industry is because it touches the heart, and if you get it right, you make people’s lives happier,” he said. “This is an industry where you have got to show some passion, love and understanding.”

Baret emphasized importance of being creative and bold in business, citing Netflix’s toppling of  traditional film rental stores such as Blockbuster. According to Baret, the business idea of Netflix is one that inspires innovation and risk-taking.“Today, if you want to stay relevant for consumers, you need to be bold,” he said. “You need to be brave and you need to be able to take such risks and adapt to new environments.”

As such, Baret advises business students to take risks and to learn from their failures. “We see that in many success stories; the first couple of years were difficult. You need to be able to take risks, be able to adapt, be able to learn from your small and big failures and continue to advance.”

Photos by Alex Hutchins

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Student Life

Representing queer women in tech

The organization Lesbians who tech is a community that unites queer women in tech

They represent in tech. They are queer, inclusive and badass. In a male-dominated industry, they seek visibility and inclusivity. The Montreal chapter of the Lesbians Who Tech community met at Montreal’s Le Cagibi bar on Nov. 15 to listen to panelists talk about their use of technology to trigger social change.

Lesbians Who Tech is a community for queer women and their allies working with or around technology. The group was founded in San Francisco in 2012 by Leanne Pittsford, but it officially launched in 2014. Since then, it has brought together more than 30,000 members with over 35 chapters around the world. The organization offers coding scholarships to queer and gender non-conforming individuals, covering 50 per cent of their tuition. However, the community’s main goal is to create visibility for its members.

Rachel Jean-Pierre, a digital marketing analyst, started the Montreal Lesbians Who Tech community at the beginning of 2016 after attending the organization’s summits in New York City and San Francisco. She said she wanted to give Montrealers access to the opportunities the community offers.

Guest speakers and founders of the Lesbians Who Tech’s Montreal chapter presented the aspects how technology can bring about social changes. Photo by Elisa Barbier

Jean-Pierre was later joined by RC Woodmass, the founder of the web-design company Quill Creative. “I saw it was very inclusive and it tried to encompass all the types of queer and trans folks, and it really encouraged me,” said Woodmass about the New York City summit they attended.

In 2014, women made up less than 30 per cent of employees in the global tech industry, according to UNESCO. In 2017, women held 19 per cent of the tech positions at Twitter, 20 per cent at Google and 17.5 per cent at Microsoft, according to the companies’ annual reports. Through Lesbians Who Tech, Jean-Pierre and Woodmass want to address the issue of inequality by building confidence and giving a voice to Montreal queer women in the tech industry.

“I am aware I am a woman. I am a black woman. I am a queer woman, and I am not easily intimidated,” Jean-Pierre said. She is making an impact in the tech industry by tackling ignorance and “macro” aggressions in her environment one day at a time. “I take initiatives,” she said. “I remind my co-workers what is not appropriate, and l remind the executives that we need real change, not simply [inclusivity programs in companies].”

Woodmass uses web-designing with Quill Creative to empower and give visibility to queer, trans and marginalized individuals, with a focus on accessibility for people with disabilities. “I redirect the funds of my business and my personal money to pay very well the people that I hire, which are always queer, trans, people of colour, suffering from disabilities or who are older,” Woodmass said. Woodmass also uses Facebook groups to seek out people who are marginalized, as they said they could not do this through regular hiring procedures.

During the gathering at Le Cagibi, guest speakers presented their background in tech and how they use it to bring about social change.

Founder of the Montreal Lesbians Who Tech, Rachel Jean-Pierre and city lead, RC Woodmass both attended the organizations summits and felt inspired to recreate it in Montreal. Photo by Elisa Barbier

Justine Gagnepain and Abigail McLean presented their project on women’s mental and neurological health. In the form of an audio-visual chat box, wmnHealth analyzes answers to questions specific to a disorder in order to track symptoms and detect problems. Its first module aims to detect concussions, then provides a weekly follow-up that often cannot be done with a doctor. In the long run, the creators of wmn Health wants to develop modules for Parkinson’s, Alzheimer’s, anxiety, depression and other mental and neurological disorders.

Another speaker was Nejma Nefertiti, a sound engineer and hip hop artist from Brooklyn. Nefertiti began writing and composing music at a young age, but it wasn’t until later on that she began to use technology to empower young people of colour. She now aims to raise awareness and bring about social change through her work by selecting projects that empower marginalized individuals.

Since the creation of the Lesbians Who Tech in Montreal, a lot more people and allies have joined the community. “We have volunteers that want to have a position in the organization as it grows,” Jean-Pierre said. Woodmass added that the Montreal chapter is one of the most vibrant because they do their own marketing, use the resources Lesbians Who Tech offers and post photographs from all their events online to raise awareness about the group. “We are vibrant because we believe in the cause, the disproportionate disparity,” Jean-Pierre said.

Woodmass and Jean-Pierre said their goal is to have a Lesbians Who Tech summit in Montreal so that the international community can recognize the city’s growing tech potential. “Summits inspire me because they have certain quotas for panelists, such as 50 per cent people of colour and 25 per cent trans women,” Woodmass said. “These quotas are not just because we need them, but because these voices prove over and over that [these people] are the most interesting and have the most to offer. This is what we value.”

The next Montreal Lesbians Who Tech event will be about art and technology at Studio XX on Jan. 17, 2018.

Photos by Elisa Barbier

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Student Life

Competing for a sustainable outcome

Students seek strategies to attract target market to new eco-friendly taxi service

Students from all over Montreal came up with recommendations and strategies to attract customers to an eco-friendly taxi service at this year’s John Molson Sustainable Enterprise Committee (JSEC) case competition held on Nov. 17.

The Concordian group paired up with Téo Taxi, a cab service that is 100 per cent electric,the company is looking to create a new service geared toward students, called TéoPool. Based on the idea of carpooling, Téo customers could choose to share their ride with a stranger headed in the same direction to split the bill, diminish the number of cars on the road and have the opportunity to socialize. For this competition, students had three hours to develop a marketing strategy that would attract the target market while keeping in mind the company’s brand and commitment to sustainability.

Students gathered at Concordia’s John Molson sustainable case competition to present their solutions to a panel of judges. Photo by Mackenzie Lad.

“We want the leaders of tomorrow to leave this competition determined to educate others on sustainability,” said JSEC co-president Anthony de Souza. “Our goal is to spread the word to all Montreal students.” In teams of four or five, students from different backgrounds, universities and majors—ranging from industrial engineering and economics to English literature and anthropology—presented their ideas to a panel of judges, including a Téo Taxi representative as well as John Molson School of Business professors and alumni.

“We focused most of our strategies not so much on leveraging the whole eco-friendly aspect, but more on how to target students who are very price sensitive,” said Anaïs Roger, an international management student from McGill and a member of the winning team.

Among the strategies presented by Roger’s team was “gamifying” the application, which would keep loyal customers enthusiastic by offering them rewards and cheaper rides. Other ideas included, such as collaborating with Tourisme Montreal to introduce the brand to foreign students,  and offering women-only rides catered to women who would feel more safe and comfortable sharing a ride with other women.

“I don’t think there is any contradiction between profit and sustainability, and you students have given us amazing solutions and a glimpse of the future,” said Patrick Gagné, CEO of Téo Taxi and a member of the jury, at the end of the event.

“As millennials, we actually do care about the environment because, if we don’t do something right now, the way things are going, there will be nothing left for us in the next 20 to 30 years,” said Safwan Hye, another one of the competitors and a Concordia student double-majoring in accounting and business technology management. Although there could only be one winner, the teams ended the competition with new connections and the motivation to keep an eye out for future sustainable solutions.

Photos by Mackenzie Lad & Sara Chahrour

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Student Life

Lights of All clothing brand sheds light on sustainability

Local designer Katia Hagen launches fall collection with her all-vegan, cruelty-free brand

The photograph of a nebula, an interstellar cloud of dust, is what inspired the fall collection of the Lights of All clothing line. Launched in April by 25-year-old local designer Katia Hagen, Lights of All is Montreal’s first sustainable vegan clothing brand.

The entire collection illustrates the seasonal essence of fall. Among the collection’s pieces is the “Envelope” winter coat. This thick, belted garment was named as such because Hagen wanted customers to feel like they were laying in a sleeping bag in the woods, looking up at the stars. The vegan suede hoodie and vest are called “Fawn” because the designer pictured wearers coming across a baby deer.

Lights of All’s first pop-up shop ran from Nov. 10 to 12 at Espace Pop on Park Avenue. It was Hagen’s way of getting to know the people who are interested in her brand and to receive first-hand feedback. Hagen is a fashion design graduate from Lasalle College and has interned in New York City at Peter Som, Marchesa and Jason Wu.

“When I moved back to Montreal, I realized I didn’t know any vegan, high-quality brands or local designers that are specifically vegan and sustainable,” she said. So Hagen decided to be that designer. Although she had never dreamed of creating her own clothing brand, she put her life savings into Lights of All. “I made all of the patterns, fit it, test it, then I cut and sewed it. Everything is handmade,” she said, adding that all the work was done in the extra bedroom in her apartment.

When Hagen was struggling with depression, sayings such as, “the light at the end of the tunnel,” and other light symbolism made her hopeful. This is why her brand name includes the word “light.”

“I also wanted the name to represent that I’m vegan, and ‘of all’ is the essence of light in everybody, the planet, even pigs and cows,” Hagen added.

All of the clothing designed by Katia Hagen is
vegan and handmade. Photo by Mia Anhoury.
All of the clothing designed by Katia Hagen is
vegan and handmade. Photo by Mia Anhoury

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vegan clothing is made from fabric and materials that are cruelty-and animal-free. No leather, wool, suede, down or silk is used. A little black dress in Hagen’s collection is made of tencel, a fabric made from wood cellulose. “It’s soft like silk but without any cruelty. It’s also very breathable,” she said. A blue tie-dye dress, named “Nebula,” is made from a combination of organic cotton and hemp. This is where the sustainable part of Hagen’s brand comes in—organic cotton is made with less water than regular cotton, and without the use of pesticides or harmful chemicals.

Using excess fabric from the brand’s apparel, Hagen also makes tote bags. While creating a particular shade of grey she had envisioned, Hagan realized she enjoyed using fabric dye. “With a hand-dyed piece, it’s super unique for you and a little work of art,” she said. According to Hagen, the dye she uses is eco-friendly because it uses less water than natural dyes and is also better for your skin.

Instead of following fashion trends, Hagen said that “part of being eco-friendly is that I want my clothes to last and focus on classic styles.” As one of the first designers to create a line of vegan clothing in the city, Hagen is optimistic about the future. “Down the line, I have big dreams,” she said. “I want to open a shop in Montreal with a studio upstairs where I make everything with other people.”

To learn more about Lights of All or purchase the latest collection, visit the website.

Photos by Mia Anhoury

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