Courtesy photo provided by Samara O'Gorman. Photo by Steven Soldano @stevensoldano
How Concordia Irish Studies student Samara O’Gorman is honouring her heritage
The month of March is a big deal for the United Irish Societies of Montreal and a cause for celebration for the students of the Concordia School of Irish Studies.
This year marks the return of the full-scale parade since it was suspended in 2020 due to the pandemic.
The Concordian spoke with Irish Studies student Samara O’Gorman ahead of the parade, which took place Sunday, March 19. O’Gorman was selected as Queen of the Montreal St. Patrick’s Day 2023 parade.
“The Queen selection evening is run by the United Irish Societies of Montreal. It’s a common misconception that it might be a pageant but it’s actually a public speaking contest,” O’Gorman explained.
Young women of Irish descent from the Montreal area come together and compete. The competition is based on Irish history, community involvement, volunteerism, and the extent to which participants are ambassadors for the Irish community.
Lauren Tracey, VP of advertising and public relations for the United Irish Societies of Montreal, explained that the selection of the parade court goes all the way back to 1956.
In 1956, the Queen’s Pageant Selection Evening was first held at the Sailors’ Club in Old Montreal, and the first young lady chosen was Patricia Ann Craig.
“Different parishes had promoted young ladies as Queen of their units in prior years, and in 1956 there was a Queen of the parade. At some point in subsequent years, the United Irish Societies decided, ‘Why not us?’ and began holding the Queen’s Pageant at the Sailors’ Club,” Tracey recalled.
The return of the parade this year has truly put into perspective what Irish culture in Montreal means to O’Gorman.
“Something that I’ve learned to appreciate is how important tradition is, especially in the Montreal Irish community,” she said.
O’Gorman emphasized that the return of the parade is significant because it brings the Montreal Irish community together in one place.
According to Tracey, Irish culture is represented in Montreal in a variety of ways, not just through the St. Patrick’s Day parade.
“One of the most prominent aspects of Irish culture in Montreal is traditional Irish music and dance. The Irish brought their music and dance traditions with them when they immigrated to Montreal, and these traditions continue to be celebrated today,” Tracey explained.
O’Gorman said there was one specific aspect of the parade that she was most excited about this year.
“At the end of the parade we are going to have a big Ukrainian group,” she said, referring to the community of Ukrainians new to Montreal who were invited to take part in the parade.
“If there is anything that the Irish people love to do, it’s to lend a helping hand and I think that narrative is really important right now.”
Manikanetish theatre perfomance at Duceppe Theatre - Courtesy photo by Danny Taillon
See the play at Jean-Duceppe Theatre from March 8 to April 8
Manikanetish is based on Naomi Fontaine’s novel by the same name. An author and teacher, Fontaine has published four books and translated various others. Manikanetish is her second novel, published in 2017, and her most recent work Shuni was published in 2019.
This play is set in Uashat, a small Inuit community in Northern Quebec close to Sept-Îles.
Most scenes are set in a high school classroom as the protagonist, Yammie, recalls her beginnings as a teacher to her son.
Manikanetish theatre perfomance at Duceppe Theatre – Courtesy photo by Danny Taillon
Manikanetish discusses the author’s life as a teacher, while centering the voices of the children she teaches. Themes of death, resilience and belonging dominate.
The resilience of these children is notably highlighted by the death of several of their relatives throughout the story.
Fontaine plays a central role in the play, though her character is taken on by another actress. She acts as a parallel to herself, an omniscient character, of what she wished she had said.
Manikanetish theatre perfomance at Duceppe Theatre – Courtesy photo by Danny Taillon
Though originally from Uashat, coming home to her community, Yammie finds that she is not accepted. She only speaks a bit of Innu, and admits not wanting to speak it because of her accent. She struggles with having left the community to study, and upon returning notices that the community has changed: she does not know anyone and is not trusted.
This is notable in a scene where one student is disgusted that the teacher does not know why one of the students is struggling because their parent is dying. The community is so small and close that everyone knows everything about everyone, and Yammie at first does not fit into that space.
Manikanetish theatre perfomance at Duceppe Theatre – Courtesy photo by Danny Taillon
Along the play, the director parallels the past and the present: what Yammie’s life could have been and what it is not. She voices spending her nights alone drinking wine, with a partner back in Quebec City, not making any time for herself.
The first part of the play is conducted by her sadness and not understanding why her dream of being a teacher in Uashat is not what she thought. The second part focuses on the students’ strength facing the various hardships thrown at them.
Manikanetish theatre perfomance at Duceppe Theatre – Courtesy photo by Danny Taillon
As the play goes on, she slowly constructs a relationship with her class as they start to understand her intentions.
For instance, when Yammie shouts at a student for sleeping in class, Fontaine’s character mirrors her and talks to the student in an understanding tone, offering a more sympathetic response. This serves as representation of what she wished she had said in those difficult moments.
Manikanetish theatre perfomance at Duceppe Theatre – Courtesy photo by Danny Taillon
The audience gets to know six characters, their perils and their passions, their difficult upbringing in a remote town far from access to healthcare, and surrounded by discrimination. For instance, one student with a child brings up the injustice of their lack of access to proper medical care, while another speaks about the few future prospects they have because of the racism they suffer in school.
The play concludes with united voices saying “our voices are heard,” both defying the public to question their existence and showing the strength of their resilience.
OPTIMISTA’s third event of four in a series of hope-themed cinéconferences
Love was presented by the non-profit arts and activism-centered Yellow Pad Sessions (YPS) in February at the Maison de la culture de Verdun. The event was part three of four in a unique series of hope-themed cinéconferences titled OPTIMISTA.
The evening included a live performance by vocalist and Cirque du Soleil artist Laur Fugère, and a live conference and spoken word performance from Innu poet Joséphine Bacon. It also included a screening of the feature film Je m’appelle humain and an exhibition of five oil paintings by former Concordia student Hannahleah Ledwell.
Fugère’s live music performance was spiritual, sensual, and entirely improvised. She kneeled onstage, surrounded by lit white candles and crystal bowls.
The performance began with the ringing of a bell, followed by a sigh. Each sound cut through the near-complete silence of the audience. Gradually, Fugère incorporated sounds from a rain stick, crystal singing bowls, and a flute. Her voice was ethereal and at times transcendent, ranging from soft breaths to near-sobs.
“There is something that I feel like I’m tapping into,” Fugère said. “And it makes me very emotional […] it brings me into this state of awe for being able to be a channel of what wants to come through.”
Bacon entered stage left, wearing red and white socks with no shoes. She began to read her poetry in Innu-aimun, and then in French. Her calm, earthy voice was layered over the otherworldly song of Fugère’s singing bowls, and the two women looked at one another and smiled. The intimacy of this moment was extraordinary.
“[Bacon] embodies simplicity, and she embodies the heart, and she entrains us in her world of connection,” said Fugère. “Just dancing with her words and with her eyes […] it was wonderful. I loved it.”
“Dis-moi que je suis ton au-delà, / Dis-mois que tu es mon au-delà, / toi, l’animal blessé, / tes ancêtres t’ont conduit à moi / pour me raconter les images / de tes rêves” (tell me that I am your beyond, / you, the wounded animal, / your ancestors led you to me / to show me the visions / of your dreams) Bacon recited. Even when the language could not be understood, the steady flow of the performance was compelling and had a beauty of its own.
Photo by Maryse Boyce
Fugère and Bacon were joined onstage by two Indigenous children: a boy and a girl. “Ça va?” (How are you doing?) asked Bacon. She took a seat in the middle of the stage and the children sat on either side, passing a microphone between themselves.
“Ç’est quoi, l’amour?” (What is love?) asked the girl.
“C’est son grand-père, c’est ta grand-mère. C’est ton père, ta mère, ta sœur. C’est tout le monde,” (It is his grandfather, it is your grandmother. It’s your father, your mother, your sister. It is everyone) Bacon responded. “L’amour, c’est aimer nos origines. L’amour, il est grand.” (Love is to love our origins. Love, it is great.)
The screening of Je m’appelle humain followed a brief intermission and brought with it a sense of love and hope. Directed by Abenaki filmmaker Kim O’Bomsawin, the film is a biographical piece of visual and aural poetry in exploration of Bacon’s life and raison d’être.
The film opens with a picturesque view of rock sculptures in formation along the ocean shore. “To me, poetry is intimate moments like this one,” said Bacon. “The word ‘poetry’ does not exist in Innu. I don’t think we needed the word in our language because we were poets simply by being with the land.”
Bacon writes her poetry in both Innu-aimun and French. “My dress is called lichen / My headdress is called eagle / My song is called drum / I am called human,” she recited. She spoke of the importance of preserving and knowing her language.
“When the elders are telling a story and you understand all the words, you join them in their story and see what they’re seeing,” she said.
She dreamt about living as her elders did. She spoke about her time in the residential school system, though briefly. “It hurts to talk about it,” she said.
When she reaches the ancestral land of Papakassik, she is overcome with emotion. “I live in the present, the past of my ancestors,” she said. “This is an ancestral land. You can feel their presence […] I am free on the land of Papakassik.”
Throughout Je m’appelle humain, Bacon takes us through the lands she knows: the streets of Montreal and the Innu territories of Pessamit and Natashquan. “When we got to Montreal we were pretty much homeless,” she said.
Je m’appelle humain is at once the story of Bacon and the people she loves, and a fight against the loss of her language, culture and its traditions. The film ends with Bacon whispering her gratitude to a dead caribou she will presumably eat. “I embrace you,” she whispered. “The caribou is a nomad, just like the Innu.” What is left after the closing scene is a sense of simultaneous hope, loss, vulnerability, and strength.
Ledwell’s ongoing exhibition Anthromorphe was meditative, erotic and intimate, painting an exploration of the various forms of love. “For me, my work is all based in memory, reliving moments and going back into a kind of muscle memory. And a lot of [those moments] end up being intimate moments because those are moments where we feel a lot of complex emotion,” said Ledwell. “I go back into those moments when I’m painting. Usually blast music, dance a bit, and I think that’s what creates a lot of the movement in my paintings.”
Love is part of OPTIMISTA’s Fall 2022-Winter 2023 premiere and Yellow Pad Sessions’ latest endeavour to leverage the power of art and persuade social change.
“OPTIMISTA is really born out of a response to the pandemic,” said executive director and co-founder of YPS Grace Sebeh Byrne. “We used to put on more traditional film festivals, but we saw that clearly there was a very big shift in perspective, generally speaking. There was a lot of hopelessness, despair.”
“We wanted it to be more of a festival of hope,” added Patrick Byrne, co-founder of YPS.
OPTIMISTA’s last event of the series, Community, took place on March 4.
The Stingers' men's hockey team after winning the OUA bronze-medal game vs. the Lakehead Thunderwolves 4-0. Liam Mahoney/ Concordia Athletics
After winning RSEQ gold and OUA bronze respectively, the women’s and men’s hockey teams will play for the national title
Stingers men’s hockey will face UNB in quarterfinals
With the Stingers’ Ontario University Athletics (OUA) bronze-medal win also came a spot at the U Sports National Championship and a chance to compete for the University Cup.
The Stingers were seeded sixth and will face the third-seeded Reds of the University of New Brunswick in the quarterfinals.
The game will take place on Thursday, March 16 at 6 p.m. Montreal time, or 7 p.m. local time. The championship will be held from March 16-19 at the Eastlink Centre in Charlottetown, PEI, hosted by the University of Prince Edward Island.
The winner of this quarterfinal game will face off against the Patriotes of the University of Quebec in Trois-Rivières who beat the Saint Mary’s Huskies 4-1 in their quarterfinal game Thursday afternoon.
The Stingers finished the regular season with a record of 19-7, and were 4-2 in the playoffs.
The Reds, who compete in the Atlantic University Sport (AUS) division, had a regular-season record of 24-4-2, and a playoff record of 5-2.
You can keep an eye on the U Sports website for schedule updates and game results.
The Stingers’ women’s hockey team after winning RSEQ gold. Evan Buhler/ Concordia Athletics
Stingers women’s hockey will play Nipissing in quarterfinals
The Stingers were seeded third in the U Sports National Championship.
After being crowned RSEQ champions for a second consecutive year, the Stingers will also have a chance to defend their national title and compete for the Golden Path Trophy.
They will face the sixth-seeded Nipissing Lakers in the quarterfinals on Friday, March 17 at 7 p.m. The University of Montreal is hosting the championship so all games will be played at the CEPSUM arena from March 16-19.
The winner of this game will face the winner of the game between the St-Francis Xavier X-Women and the UBC Thunderbirds on Saturday, March 18 at 7:30 p.m.
The Stingers had a regular-season record of 20-5 and a playoff record of 4-1, while the Lakers (who compete in the AUS) finished the regular season with a 19-7 record and also went 4-1 in the playoffs.
The remainder of the schedule, as well as game results, will be updated on the U Sports website as the championship advances.
A show not only committed to finding the perfect physique, but also dedicated to breaking stereotypes
Netflix has released a show to encourage the millions of people who put exercising at the top of their New Year’s resolution list — and they did not disappoint.
Physical 100, a South Korean reality survival show, is gaining a lot of attention for its fierce competition and stunning visuals from start to finish. The show was released on Jan. 24, 2023. It comes at a particularly good time with the start of the new year.
The show has been compared to the blockbuster series Squid Game because of the competition-elimination format along with the big prize money.
Thankfully, nobody dies.
In Squid Game, 456 players in deep financial trouble risk their lives to compete in a sequence of children’s games to win 45.6 billion South Korean won.
The ultimate champion of Physical 100 won 300 million South Korean won (about $310,000 CAD). 300 million is not 45.6 billion won, but you get the idea.
One hundred predominantly Asian male and female athletes with well-developed physical attributes ranging from Korean national team members and bodybuilders, to YouTubers and actors, among others, compete in a series of grueling challenges to test their quickness, balance, willpower, strength, and endurance.
The show’s premise is to find the ideal human physique based on many tests of performance.
At the end of each quests, eliminated contestants have to smash their own headless human plaster torsos with a sledgehammer, which definitely leaves a bad taste in their mouths due to the competitive nature of the participants on the show.
Contestants not only show off their physiques, but also break stereotypes about Asian people being weak and lacking athleticism.
Christina Chin, an associate professor of sociology at California State University, said that historically, Western perceptions of strength are often imagined on white and Black bodies.
The predominantly Asian cast is breaking that dynamic. Viewers are forced to focus on their skills, not race. In addition, body diversity on the show challenges Western audiences’ views on strength and physical fitness by making them think outside of Western body standards, such as having broad shoulders, big biceps, triceps, thighs, washboard abs, etc.
As the series progresses, particular builds are better suited for different quests. Some have a lanky and lean physique, while others have defined muscles from head to toe. And then there are some contestants who don’t seem to be physically fit at all who ended up doing well in the competition!
The show subtly sends a message that no body type is universally superior to the other, while consistently preaching that mental toughness goes a long way compared to physical capabilities.
While the show displays a competitive atmosphere from start to finish, it does not stop the contestants from constantly showing respect and sportsmanship to one another.
I understand the idea that trash-talking and trying to intimidate your opponents is a normal occurrence in order to play “mind games.”
This is often seen in other shows, but Physical 100 is different: winners help the losers up, and losers cheer on survivors until a champion is eventually crowned.
My favourite contestant was Kim Min-cheol, a member of a mountain rescue team and Korea’s national ice climbing team. He was one of the few contestants with natural muscles gained purely from his everyday occupation, which made him admirable and easy to root for.
The moral of the story is you don’t need to look like The Rock to achieve the perfect physique. Everybody has their own idea of what the perfect physique looks like. Bigger doesn’t mean stronger, slimmer doesn’t mean quicker and toned doesn’t necessarily mean you have the most endurance.
Netflix has not announced a second season, but the narrator alluding that their “search for the perfect physique will continue” leaves fans expecting more.
The mellow dynamic duo indie folk artist and band everyone wanted.
Gabrielle Shonk
We sat down in our seats and right on cue at 7:30 p.m., the announcer read out the lineup. He had barely finished speaking when out came Gabrielle Shonk with nothing but a guitar and her voice. She immediately started to sing her first song, “How We Used To Be.”
Afterwards, before singing “Reminds Me Of You,” she spoke about how the song was about anxiety and her history of panic attacks, which was ironic because she was able to control her voice in an awe-inspiring manner. Her voice was honestly the driving force of her performance, as her guitar playing was minimalistic to complement it.
Her song “Aftertaste” was a bit different than the rest of her setlist as it gave off a more bedroom pop vibe. Moreover, instead of using the drum kit sound that was used on the two other songs, she used the infamous 808 kit. I was a fan.
The Barr Brothers
Where do I begin? They had the oddest stage setup for a band that I’ve ever seen (except for King Gizzard, they are second to none in that field). Singer Brad Barr had a mic stand that was covered in vintage light bulbs, and lead guitarist Brett Lanier was seated for the majority of the show since he was using his lap-steel guitar which had its own generously sized pedal board. The drummer, Andrew Barr, had various percussion instruments, and Éveline Grégoire-Rousseau, the harp player, had a silly horse head mask on her harp. The most sensible person was bass player Morgan Moore with his simple P bass directly plugged into the amp.
The Barr Brothers are constantly trying to adapt and make new sounds while still sticking to the folk genre. The intro song “Burn Card” involved Andrew playing the guitar while his brother pulled a string against the guitar strings, making the instrument sound like a violin.
For “Half Crazy,” the singer performed what felt like a five-minute-long intro of playing an Egyptian scale on his guitar with a slide. Grégoire-Rousseau had a distortion pedal which sounded spectacular. Having listened to this song every day on Chom 97.7 in 2014 on my way to school, it felt like I had finally come full circle to be able to witness it live. The song took a different, more jammy turn which involved the Barr brothers soloing off each other.
Their encore songs were “Beggar In The Morning” and their single “It Came To Me,” which, while overplayed on a lot of radio stations (namely Chom), they performed them a lot differently compared to the studio version. It was overall a wonderful performance and the crowd gave standing ovations to both Shonk and The Barr Brothers. I would highly recommend going to see either act separately.
Complaints were made about a disruptive prankster who has recently been contacted by security
Students have taken to a Concordia Reddit page warning others about a potential security risk in the last week of February.
Two separate posts were made complaining about a young man filming himself intentionally playing audio at high volumes. The man in question is a YouTuber labelling his escapades as “pranks.”
The stunt itself included the prankster moving to different locations across the library, intentionally watching videos with unplugged headphones while pretending to be oblivious. This would eventually cause distraction and confusion among surrounding students, prompting many to confront him — which is exactly what the YouTuber wanted.
“It’s not hard to notice when someone is being obnoxious, to send a librarian or even security over,” said Araya Robichaud, a second-year political science student at Concordia. Robichaud was one of the original users to post about the incidents on the subreddit.
Robichaud’s post was prompted by a friend who had encountered the YouTuber at the library. Robichaud decided to air his concerns online after watching the video and seeing the rhetoric expressed by the creator.
The post generated a lot of attention, both from students and strangers alike. Many people sent official complaints to the University’s security to prevent similar instances.
Despite these recent events, Robichaud says he hasn’t encountered any disturbances at the library. However, Robichaud expressed his frustration with chatter at the library.
“I do think I recognize some groups of students that, when I see them, I’ll grab my stuff and move. I know they’re just there to talk,” he said.
To prevent future disturbances and complaints, Robichaud said he wishes for designated library staff to ensure general safety.
“I get frequent actual complaints about students asking me to tell other students that are being rowdy or noisy to keep it down,” said Noemi Marcaida-Golebiowski, a front desk worker at the library. “Everyday, like literally everyday.”
Marcaida-Golebiowski said she deals with patrons every day, both students and professors, loaning books, DVDs and miscellaneous documents. She learned about the recent disturbances through word of mouth and from the posts on Concordia’s Reddit page. When she reached out to the library’s administrator, she was happy to hear that security was already dealing with the issue.
Although Marcaida-Golebiowski sympathized with the library attendees’ complaints, she said that the library staff did not have the authority to remove people from the library.
Director of Campus Safety and Prevention Services Darren Dumoulin said the department itself hadn’t received many complaints regarding the recent incident due to students contacting other departments.
Dumoulin said students who encounter these situations should contact security immediately by calling campus security.
“It’s so we can respond to it at that time and not be receiving an email several days after the fact,” Dumoulin said.
Dumoulin added that security agents would not immediately expel any disrupting person from the library and would intervene otherwise, as per protocol. However, repeated behavior might initiate what he called “an escalation process” which could prompt agents to ask the person to leave.
“We don’t profile people before they go into the library,” he said. “We really react to behaviour issues.”
According to Dumoulin, the security department has been in contact with the YouTuber. However, no official library staff member has yet to meet him.
Although Dumoulin understands the frustration behind these recurring issues, he said the library’s openness to the public and downtown environment creates a challenge for security staff.
“Posting stuff on social media will not initiate a response,” Dumoulin said. “You can’t study if you’re afraid and if you don’t feel safe, call us.”
Picture this: it’s a Friday night, and you’re either hunched over a computer trying to squeeze out the last bit of academic energy you have left in you, or anxiously procrastinating. The weekend is near and you’re ready for a night on the town — you deserve one, after all. But you’ve been so caught up in the academic haze that you forgot to make plans.
You eagerly ask your roommates what they have planned. One has opted to spend the night with their significant other watching the 2006 critical flop (yet still beloved) film Aquamarine;the other has a date. Before admitting defeat, you rapidly fire off “what’s the move” texts to anyone you’ve ever had a remotely good time with — and some you’re willing to give a second chance to.
It’s growing late and you’re about to give up when your cracked iPhone buzzes with hope. With a racing heart, you check your messages.
“We’re going to so-and-so’s party on St. Dennis, you can totally come,” one of the fun friends has informed you. You run to the closet to pick out your best threads. When the phone buzzes for a second time, the text says: “It’s pirate-themed. See you there <3.” With a sinking heart, you hang your brand new navy blue Uniqlo chore coat back in your closet. Panic sets in. Do you wear an eye-patch? A funny hat? Do you need a parrot?
This is the third week in a row you’ve been underprepared for a theme party. Time and time again you’ve been asked to dress for different themes, like goth, 90s night, like characters from the movie Midsommar, all in white, all in brown and one time even just like someone named John.
You try to participate, but between the price of beer and the snack you know you’ll need on the way home, your budget is tight. How can you justify a whole new outfit that you will never wear again for solely this one night?
You consider not going at all, but reluctantly, you grab a torn shirt, your roommate’s funky old striped pants and a bandana. You look nothing like a pirate. You’re dressed closer to Johnny Depp in real life than Jack Sparrow and you feel ridiculous. It’s not fashionable, not flattering and not fun. But dammit if you aren’t participating because parties have rules and you have to play by them.
On your way, you stop at the depanneur to get the standard six pack of whatever beer is under ten dollars. The man behind the counter gives you a look of confusion and modest judgment. “Nice pants,” he says politely. But you know he doesn’t mean it.
You arrive at the party and see that, once again, everyone is outperforming you.
People have eyepatches, fake parrots, and one person seems to have an eerily convincing peg leg (you do your best not to look directly at it). As you dodge questions about why you’re wearing a torn up dress shirt in an attempt to masquerade as a pirate, a sense of shame begins to creep in followed by resentment. Three weeks in a row, you’ve tried to look the best you could and tried to conform to the theme, but sadly, you just can’t keep up anymore.
The TikTok-i-fication of your nights out has started to ruin the fun of it. With bring-your-own-cup parties and “summertime in the winter” parties, nobody had to feel left out. But, now it seems as though each week your friends try to outdo each other with a more convoluted and ill-conceived trendy theme that they saw a group of influencers attempt online.
You and a group of other underperforming partygoers gather in the shadows, avoiding snide remarks. After a couple of hours, people begin to filter out and you decide to join. On the way home, you stop at A&W and chat with your friends recounting the night’s shenanigans. An appropriate amount of time passes and you turn to leave.
“Next week at my house: clown theme!” someone shouts as you begin to walk away.
You bow your head in defeat. “Tonight might as well have been clown-themed,” you think to yourself.
On the way home, you accept your fate and begin to brainstorm where to buy a red nose as the bag of buddy burgers grows colder in your hands.
The Houston artist goes R&B — which works until it doesn’t
Don Toliver is one of those rare enigmatic artists, where it can be difficult to predict what his next album (or even song) may sound like. Many fans were introduced to his unique voice on Travis Scott’s 2018 song “CAN’T SAY” — which prompted some hilarious comparisons to singer Akon.
While Toliver has released a few downtempo songs, his new record Love Sick is his full-length foray into the world of slower, more seductive R&B. On paper, it seems like a match made in heaven, given his now-signature voice and knack for catchy melodies. But in reality, his vocal performance is easily the most forgettable part of this album.
Toliver’s voice is nice to listen to, but that’s about as far as it gets. While it is refreshing to hear him experiment with a slower sound, some songs can drone on and sound quite forgettable. So much so that the novelty of hearing Toliver on unfamiliar productions wears off quickly. This leads to a few bland tracks, especially as the album goes on. By the time we get to songs like “Cinderella,” he sings in circles, and his melodies end up going nowhere. On tracks like “Private Landing,” he flat out sounds disinterested.
It’s a disappointing showing for an artist whose greatest asset is his voice.
The production, however, is anything but forgettable. Instrumentally, we are hearing Toliver at his most experimental, which serves as the redeeming factor for a lot of songs. The Houston artist hops on Kaytranada’s production and New Jersey club-inspired beats, among other interesting choices.
Lush, moody, and layered soundscapes provide the backdrop for most of the album, whereas scintillating guitars shine through others. Songs like “Leave the Club” showcase a more familiar bouncy trap sound. The intro, “LoveSickness,” sets the tone by being somewhere in the middle.
A few of the creative choices on this album are questionable: Justin Bieber’s insistence to “keep going” on “Private Landing” is one such instance. Fans hoping to hear Toro y Moi are also likely to be disappointed, as his vocals are heavily altered and thrown on the outro of “Cinderella.” The very numerous features, in general, are hit or miss.
Some tracks on Love Sick definitely demonstrate that Toliver can continue to make great music — “Let Her Go” and “Slow Motion” are shining examples. Unfortunately, tracks like these get drowned out by the album’s other underwhelming songs. While ambitious, the album falls far short of reaching its true potential.
Keisha Lamptey helps fill a gap in the Canadian beauty industry with inclusive haircare and skincare products
Keisha Lamptey wears an apron and clear plastic gloves as she carefully adds seed oils and seed butters to her stainless steel KitchenAid mixer. It loudly whips all the ingredients together, creating a smooth and uniform texture.
After a few minutes, she shuts off the mixer, lifts the mixing bowl and gently pours the contents into her filling machine.
An off-white creamy product comes out of the tube, filling the empty jar that she holds in her left hand with her homemade Moisturizing Hair Butter.
Lamptey is the owner of Nuances self-care, a company that manufactures natural, vegan and eco-friendly haircare and skincare products for women of all shades at an affordable cost.
Growing up in Montreal, Lamptey noticed that there was a minimal selection of products designed specifically for Black women in Canada. “I felt very underrepresented when shopping for products,” she said.
Courtesy photo provided by Keisha Lamptey
She explained that none of the mass-market beauty companies were Black-owned and none of them understood her needs as a woman with thick, curly hair. Products that did work for her had to be purchased from the United States, making it “just absolutely crazy expensive.” According to Lamptey, one small eight-ounce product would cost her $50.
“I thought to myself, ‘Canada deserves to have these products, too,’” Lamptey recalled. So, in 2017, she used her background in organic chemistry to begin experimenting with various formulas to create products catered to all skin types and kinky hair types.
But it wasn’t until December 2020 that she incorporated Nuances self-care after receiving the Canada Starts grant — a $5,000 cash prize sponsored by RBC Ventures aimed at helping aspiring entrepreneurs launch their business.
According to Lamptey, the grant covered all her start-up costs — including federal and provincial incorporation fees, website expenses, and the cost of necessary equipment, ingredients and packaging — all of which totalled about $3,700.
“Receiving that grant was so amazing,” she said. It allowed Nuances self-care to start off profitable from the get-go.
According to Lamptey, sales were high in the first few months of business. This was not only because it was the holiday season, but also because Quebec was under a lockdown, making it easier for customers to purchase their beauty products online.
Many of these early customers still support Nuances self-care nearly two years later, like Yasamin Fawzi.
‘[Nuances self-care’s products] feel good for my skin and hair and they’re really affordable,” Fawzi said. “I’m always about buying local, or buying stuff that’s more ethically sourced and natural.”
Today, Lamptey has 15 products listed on her website, each of which have gone through a detailed process. The process begins with months of researching, experimenting, and testing. Once Lamptey is satisfied with a product recipe, she orders the labels and packaging from the supplier and makes a batch for customers.
The final step of the process is marketing the new product.
According to Lamptey, she typically uses social media and her email newsletter to tease upcoming product releases and to announce new products when they come out.
But with the most recent launch, the Apple Cinnamon Body Butter, Lamptey tried a new marketing technique: she planned a launch party at a local Montreal shop. Those who wanted to purchase the product had to attend the event. It was so successful the product nearly sold out, totalling 35 sales and over $1,200 was made.
“It was a great way to create buzz and boost sales,” she said. “But it was also a good way to make myself relevant in people’s eyes.”
While Nuances self-care started as a retailer business through an e-commerce website, Lamptey is now exploring the wholesale business, too. Nuances self-care’s products are now sold in two hairdresser salons, one perfume store, one hair accessory store, and a few cafés around the city.
Courtesy photo provided by Keisha Lamptey
Lamptey shared that regular customer sales are highest in months with celebrations or holidays, with about 50 to 200 customer orders per month.
But in slower months, like last September and October, Lamptey noticed a decline in customer orders but an increase in wholesale orders. According to Lamptey, this shift is more profitable because businesses purchase more units compared to one regular customer.
Lamptey said that she dreams of selling her products in the United States and Europe, as well as selling in bigger stores like Walmart and Amazon.
While there are big dreams of expansion for Nuances self-care, loyal customers like Fawzi will continue to support them in Montreal.
From Ten Days in a Mad-House to touring the world in high heels
A girlboss of her time, Nellie Bly — born Elizabeth Cochrane — was an American journalist who was famous for her investigative undercover work.
She was born in 1864 and went to school until the age of 15, but struggled to find work, even more than her brothers who were less educated than her.
In 1885, she wrote a response to an editor at the Pittsburgh Dispatch after they published an article titled “What Girls Are Good For” that criticized the presence of women in the workforce. In her response to the column, she argued for more opportunities for women in the public sphere. The editor was impressed by her writing, and this kick-started her career as a reporter.
When she started working for the Dispatch, she began writing under the pseudonym Nellie Bly because it was considered inappropriate for women to write under their own name. So, it only made sense that all of the men in the newsroom came together to find her a “catchy” nom de plume, which turned out to be inspired by a racist form of entertainment.
Although Nellie Bly made the name a feminist reference today, it is actually the misspelled version of the minstrel song Nelly Bly by Stephen Foster. Minstrel songs were made specifically for minstrel shows, a racist form of theater that was prominent in the 19th century.
Despite bringing great reporting on the conditions of working women at the Dispatch, Bly’s editors confined her to writing on women’s issues. In a time where women were hired as reporters mainly for the “women pages,” Bly wanted to do investigative work.
To be less restricted, she moved to New York in 1886, but struggled to find work as a woman reporter. A year later, Bly stormed into the office of none other than Joseph Pulitzer and asked to report on immigrants in the United States. Although he refused her pitch, he challenged her to look into the Blackwell’s Island mental asylum for New York World.
Not only did Bly accept the challenge, she committed herself to that piece by faking mental illness to get herself admitted into the institution. During her time there, Bly investigated claims of abuse and neglect in the women’s unit. She also dropped her act and started acting “normal,” even asking to be let go, but to no avail. After ten days of trying to convince the staff that she was a reporter, the New York World had to come rescue her from the asylum.
Bly’s discoveries were published in a series of articles in the paper, followed by a book called Ten Days in a Mad-House. Not only did her investigative reporting lead to a grand jury investigation of the asylum and brought more funding for the Department of Public Charities and Corrections, it also became one of the most iconic pieces of undercover journalism.
The ease with which she was able to trick doctors into thinking she was insane also ensured future examinations to be more thorough.
She continued to publish regular exposés on corruption in the legislature and jails, as well as continuing to advocate for the working class.
In 1889, she was inspired by Jules Verne’s Around the World in Eighty Days to beat fictional character Phileas Fogg’s record travel. Bly read the book and was inspired to beat Fogg’s record.
The New York World published daily updates of her journey, even running a contest where readers could guess how much time it would take her to travel the world. Bly travelled the world by train, boat and horse, wearing a full gown, heeled boots and corset, the traditional attire for women at the time.
She completed the tour in 72 days, 6 hours, 11 minutes and 14 seconds, setting a new world record. It didn’t take long, however, for a businessman to take her glory and complete the challenge in 67 days.
Nellie Bly was a pioneer in her field as an investigative journalist and continues to be an inspiration for women today.
HERstory Lesson is a new column presenting all the “bad girls” in history, or the ultimate girlboss summit.
International Women's Day March in front of McGill University. Valentine Alibert / THE CONCORDIAN
Student unions denounce a continued lack of gender equity in universities
To mark International Women’s Day, demonstrators marched downtown to demand gender equality in Quebec and throughout the world.
Speakers at the march deplored the various ways women’s rights are undermined across the globe: from a lack of access to education, healthcare and reproductive rights or through threats of abuse, femicide, as well as sexual and domestic violence.
The most recent Statistics Canada study states that 34,242 women were victims of sexual assault over the course of 2021 in Canada. The data refers only to cases reported to the police and, according to the Regroupement québécois des centres d’aide et de lutte contre les agressions sexuelles (The Quebec Coalition of Sexual Assault Centers), it is estimated that only 10 per cent of women victims of sexual assault file a complaint with the police.
Another Statistics Canada study released in 2020 found that 71 per cent of students at Canadian postsecondary schools “witnessed or experienced unwanted sexualized behaviours in a postsecondary setting in 2019.” These numbers include on-campus or off-campus situations involving other students or people associated with scholastic institutions.
Representatives from Concordia’s Inter-organizational Table for Feminist Affairs (ITFA) were present to support women and victims of sexual violence.
Composed of the Teaching and Research Assistants at Concordia (TRAC) union, the Concordia Student Union (CSU), the Graduate Student Association (GSA) and the Centre for Gender Advocacy, ITFA is a student-run group that advocates for student-led solutions, transparency and gender equity at Concordia.
Julianna Smith, the CSU’s external affairs and mobilization coordinator, and representative of ITFA, said the group wanted to use the attention that came with International Women’s Day to voice their demands and support feminist causes.
“We had a rally back at Concordia in support of Concordia’s specific demands, supporting the boycott of the University’s SMSV [Standing Committee on Sexual Misconduct and Sexual Violence] and now we are here to support the broader women’s movement,” said Smith.
ITFA started the ongoing boycott of SMSV, claiming that the fight against sexual violence at Concordia should take into account the voices of students and victims.
“The main argument that we have is that Concordia’s SMSV is in majority faculty and management and they don’t actually listen to students and what we need to see in order to manage and prevent sexual violence in the University,” said Becca Wilgosh, TRAC’s vice-president and ITFA representative.
Wilgosh said ITFA wants to call into question how the University has so far addressed sexual violence on campus. She pointed out that Concordia’s administration comes from a position of power, a factor that can lead to abuse.
“It should be bottom-up, it should be run by the people who are more likely to be subject to it, so we are trying to construct alternatives that actually centre survivors, students and staff workers.”
Said Wilgosh.
For Smith, there is still a long way to go when it comes to feminist movements in universities throughout Quebec.
“One thing that I’ve noticed about the student movement in Quebec as a whole is that right now we’re very stuck in this gender parity issue, it’s very second-wave feminism,” said Smith. “For ITFA, we want to take an approach that’s much broader than that […] it’s about dismantling all structures of power.”
