INSIDE THE 2022 MONTREAL INTERNATIONAL BLACK FILM FESTIVAL, CATHERINE REYNOLDS/THE CONCORDIAN
Racism in the Great White North just isn’t worth denouncing for those who chose the opening movie of this year’s Festival
The opening of the Montreal International Black Film Festival with the screening of Lovely Jackson on Sept. 20 was nothing less than a pure expression of devious Canadian whiteness.
Yes, there is such a thing.
A lot of Canadian identity is predicated on not being American. So when it comes to racism, the white Canadian rhetoric is that it’s simply “not as bad as it is in the States.”
The result is a local form of whiteness that pushes Euro-Canadians to decry racial violence in the United States but harshly deny its existence in their own country, so as to preserve the myth of white innocence, of non-American superiority. I don’t know any Black person in Canada who hasn’t been humiliated by these seemingly contradictory reactions that actually go hand in hand.
Yes, we are familiar with Canadian whiteness.
I expected more from the Montreal Black Film Festival because it established multiple events and opportunities around the theme of Being Black in Canada. I thus decided to give Lovely Jackson a chance despite the fact that it’s produced by a white male — first red flag — , and was suspiciously acclaimed by a white Québécois executive of the Festival (who declared in his speech that it was “just so beautiful”) — second red flag.
The movie tells the story of Rickey Jones, an African American man who spent 39 years on death row in Cleveland, Ohio for the murder of a white man that he did not commit. Two white police officers wrongfully convicted him at age 18 by forcing a 12-year-old Black boy — the case’s sole eyewitness — to write a false statement “proving” his guilt.
He was released in 2014 at age 57, years after the Ohio Innocence Project started investigating his case.
As my heart juggled between rage, sadness and admiration for Jackson who boldly shared his incredible journey towards healing and happiness, I grew more and more disgusted at producer Matt Waldeck who carefully washed away the blood off the white criminals’ hands.
In fact, the Festival’s choice of this movie is far more than just disrespectful in the Canadian context as another strategic focus on U.S. racism that overshadows local tyranny. It’s also full of white saviourism.
That is very clear: all white characters are angels. More blame is put on the poor child who bore the traumatic burden of the officers’ illegal manipulation and coercion for decades than on the policemen responsible for Jackson’s misery.
The movie includes detailed follow-ups on the life and testimonies of the former, but the latter are completely erased from the story, despite Jackson implying the full extent of their guilt in one brief clip.
This point-of-view remains unexplored. However, the white prosecutor who was the director of the Ohio Innocence Project gets heroic attention — never mind the fact that he admitted to believing all prisoners were evil until the project’s creator went on sabbatical leave, forcing him into the job.
The movie does not name “racism” or the prison-industrial complex, let alone the roots of the colonial capitalist system that rips families apart and instills planned suffering into Black people’s existence.
I went from being frustrated to holding back tears at the cruelty of this world, exhausted by Waldeck’s distortion of reality that was further empowered by the Canadian whiteness of the Festival.
The City of Laval's public art project, Zoom Art, in Montmorency metro station. ESTHER MORAND/The Concordian
Zoom Art is a project that recommends people to look up from their mundane routines to discover public artwork
Curator Geneviève Goyer-Ouimette’s Zoom Art Project, presented by Ville de Laval Art Collection, is on display for its third edition until Oct. 16. The theme of this year’s edition is “être ensemble” which loosely translates to “being together.
The artworks will be accessible until Oct. 16.
The artworks are presented on astral panels, bus shelters, posters in the Montmorency metro terminus, as well as in light boxes on metro platforms. These works replace advertising, displaying artwork instead of ads.
“The idea at the beginning was to allow a break from advertising and to have a kind of artistic oasis in the spaces where there usually is something to sell.”
Here, nothing is sold. People are invited “to reflect on their state, to have time for themselves, to be addressed as human beings, not as consumers,” notes Goyer-Ouimette.
The project was born three years ago, in the midst of the pandemic. Goyer-Ouimette explains that “museums were closed, people had limited access to culture.”
The first edition, curated by Anne-Sophie Michel and Anick Thibault, was organized in less than two months, with a selection of artists whose works were posted in bus shelters and on astral boards.
Previously, the project served to help emerging artists, but for the second and third editions, pieces were chosen around a specific theme.
It was important for the curator to find an accessible theme that spoke to a large audience, where people could make links and think about the artworks without having necessarily studied fine arts. She wanted to find a theme around the term “to gather” without explaining it further.
“With the theme ‘être ensemble,’ contrary to the notion of ‘vivre ensemble’ there is no intent given, it is more of an observation,” Goyer-Ouimette notes.
“Being together can reach the intimacy of conflicts between people, that it be in love relationships, power relationships, indoctrination, or even very positive ones, such as relationships with a family, or being bored of being together.” The theme is thus reflected in the chosen pieces.
There are reproductions of artworks put into photography; sometimes they are digitized because they come from real photographs that have been enlarged.
What is particular about Zoom Art is that “you can discover it by walking around randomly, but you can also discover it by day or by night. The works are very different depending on the time of day,” Goyer-Ouimette said.
She notes that the project resembles a catalog, but that the result is a display in a public space.
“One of the crucial steps in producing a catalog is to ensure the quality of the images. We often had to rework the size of the images.”
In choosing what artworks to represent, Goyer-Ouimette wanted “all the works [to] have a very strong visual appeal. In the bus shelters they contain details that will allow people to reflect,” because they have more time to wait for a bus, whereas in the metro it has to be effective more quickly, so that the piece can convey itself effectively.
“Often people think that the worst that can happen is that people don’t like art, but the worst is when people don’t see it, don’t identify it as art, simply ignore it.”
The curator did not want to have to explain what artwork belonged to which artist, so
the graphic designer selected a color inside each work to write the name of the artist.
“What this does is that we will associate the image with the name without it having to be explained,” Goyer-Ouimette notes.
Two of the 17 artists, Jim Holyoak and Matt Shane, work in synchronicity. Their work through the project is present on a bus shelter.
“One draws, and the other adds to it, they are truly working together,” notes Goyer-Ouimette. “It’s a visual folly, the more you look at their work, the more you notice details. The drawing of one leads to the intervention of the other.”
On the other hand, Rafael Sottolichio’s work — displayed on a highway poster — deals with the theme of family coming out of the pandemic and external family reunions. Such works are a reminder of what we have just experienced throughout the pandemic .
The artworks intersect with the theme of togetherness through different meanings and mediums.
Dog roaming at Citrouilleville. DALIA NARDOLILLO/ The Concordian
Citrouilleville, a pumpkin village located one hour away from Montreal.
For all you fall fanatics out there, I have a fall activity that is a one hour drive from Montreal.
Citrouilleville credits itself to be ”the most original pumpkin village in Quebec.”
It is a little pumpkin village that is located in Saint-Zotique at the Ferme Benoit Vernier.
This pumpkin village features an abundance of activities. Citrouilleville is not only family friendly but dog friendly as well!
The creators of the pumpkin village got extremely creative and built various houses made out of pumpkins, and many vintage cars that you can pose with.
These vintage cars include a Volkswagen beetle, a Volkswagen bus and a Dodge pickup truck.
For the lovers out there, they’ve also set up a kissing booth.
Around the farm you can get whisked away in a tractor ride, or you can choose to get lost in the cornfield maze that they have set up.
On weekends, Citrouilleville has a lot of activities set up for kids. The staff put on performances for kids at different times on Saturdays and Sundays, and children can also indulge in facepainting and carnival games offered on-site.
The other nice thing about Citrouilleville is that they offer $1 squashes sold on-site as well as lots of different sizes of pumpkins. They also sell a variety of handmade goods like local honey and handmade jewelry.
There are snacks offered if you want to grab a bite to eat, including freshly popped popcorn (the smell wafts through the farm and honestly makes you salivate), corn on the cob, etc.
If you choose to visit the site at night, you will be dazzled by the lights that line the paths around the farm.
Citrouilleville is open on Saturdays from 9:30 a.m. to 9 p.m. On Sundays, they are open from 9:30 a.m. to 5 p.m.
Admission is $17.50 for adults. Visitors can buy their tickets online and on-site.
Aside from weekends, they are exclusively open on Thanksgiving, Oct. 11, from 9:30 a.m. to 5 p.m., as well as on Halloween, from 5 p.m. to 9:30 p.m.
How 19th century urban explorers may be the key to rediscovering the beauty of Montreal
I never really liked walking in the city. To grow up in an urban environment meant life was fast-paced, so leisurely strolls didn’t really make sense. Instead, rationality and time management overruled any effort to enjoy where I was walking.
A trip to the grocery store was done in haste, and school drop-offs were bundled together with errands. Even a picnic in a public park was restricted to the one hour time slot we allocated for.
This mindset continued when I moved to Montreal and started my degree. I carried over the attitude of seeing the street as a transitional space between two more important locations.
The street carried no inherent value and was to be navigated as efficiently as possible.
Montreal’s summer and winter weather further entrenched my desire to limit city walking. My views were firm, but change came in response to a global pandemic.
The COVID-19 pandemic brought me many sedentary days and a yearning for some sort of connection. Over the months, I looked for ways to temper my urban cabin fever. Running and cycling were fine, but the city paths I covered were still being used as mere accessories for my exercise — like an elaborate treadmill. I wasn’t really experiencing anything the city had to offer.
It wasn’t until I learned about a certain historical group that I was inspired to connect to the urban outdoors. They were 19th century European flâneurs, and they saw the city in an entirely different light.
The flâneur, or flâneuse, was a well-to-do individual with plenty of free time on their hands. They were known to study the many districts of Paris, London, Berlin, and Vienna in their industrial golden ages.
They took little part in the commercial activities of the markets and stores, and aside from resting at cafés and restaurants, they withdrew from the social activity of the streets. What they did was observe.
In maintaining anonymity, the flâneur would witness the endless theatrics that unfolded on the city scene. These observant characters were able to find limitless dramas play out through the mundane activities of city folk.
This group intrigued me, and I wondered if it would be possible to recapture their enjoyment of the city. With this in mind, I set out on a summer afternoon to see what I could find.
Keeping my head high and ears tuned, I wandered around Montreal. With shoppers and commuters out, I was sure to find the streets filled. Through the summer heat and the city smell, I slowly tuned into the sights of the downtown bustle, and with the rigorous style of the flâneurs, I took note of the city activity.
To my delight, I started to really connect with all the action around me. From construction workers to window shoppers, everything played out like elements in a great play, with everyone dutifully filling their roles.
For example, I noted a well-dressed businessman frantically phoning an airline to reorganize his flights. By itself, this scene wasn’t particularly memorable. But when I placed his troubles into the greater context of the times — the pandemic, the re-opening economy, the difficulties of flying, and the historic commercial hub that is Montreal — they suddenly felt so immense.
The city itself also bore energy upon closer inspection. Construction pylons, cars, a dead pigeon, pesky living pigeons, and even the many angles of light bouncing off the skyscrapers came together to create their own complete unit. They had their own worth.
What was once a cumbersome experience was now full of intensity. Whether through age, circumstance, or desperation, something in me had changed. I felt connected to the complexities of the city, and I was deeply enjoying the experience. Even in my anonymous role of observer, I was a part of the story of that given day.
I continue these walks to this day, finding new stories every time. While I don’t always walk with the same observational fervour, I’ve come to depend on strolling through the city. By putting these walks in a fresh light, they become so much more than the chore they used to be.
Going through any given burrough and reflecting on the sheer brilliance of the action gives these spaces a whole new weight and importance. If it means budgeting more time in the day, then it’s fully worth the price.
The march begins with a greeting, a must for any Indigenous ceremony. “We give thanks to our mother the Earth,” says Kahnawà:ke elder Steve McComber, “so that we can continue to grow, and have a good life.”
“As we gather here on this day,” he says, “we are here to commemorate and to make people all over the world aware of the things that have gone on. When I listened to the Prime Minister talk about truth and reconciliation, I thought this was nice, it is a beginning. But without really knowing the truth, how can we really reconcile?”
The crowd listening to Steve McComber’s speech to start off the event. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
Inflamed and armed with her arguments, Nakuset, the director of Montreal’s Native Women’s Shelter, says not much has been done since the first rendition of the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. “Last year, when I did the first march, I said I wanted people to hand out subpoenas. No subpoenas were given.”
“Somebody decided to dig that grave, someone decided to put a child in there, someone decided that they were not going to tell the families,” she follows. A whole group of government and church officials were involved, yet it was all hidden, and no one was blamed.
“If we actually hear the truth and change the history, that will bring some kind of comfort to the people, because there is no accountability,” Nakuset says.
With Premier François Legault elected for four more years, systemic racism will continue to be questioned by the governing body. “He is someone that says there is no systemic racism,” she says, “yet we live it every single day with every single institution, and we fight it every day.”
That same week, the second anniversary of Joyce Echaquan’s tragic death was commemorated at Place du Canada. Nakuset says that Legault “is creating generational trauma to the children.” She adds that “At the hospitals, when you mistreat people like what happened to Joyce, that’s generational trauma, because her kids may never want to go to a hospital.”
She then emulates shaking someone by the shoulder, saying that “Today we need to shake people up!”
Nakuset looking towards the crowd, with her words written on the green paper, ready to be told. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
Off to the side, away from the crowd is Kanehsatà:ke activist Ellen Gabriel, sat on a bench, planning the speech she would deliver later during the march.
“You know, I was surprised that, when we first heard these stories, we didn’t riot,” she says. What is important now is to let these stories slowly come out. “I think it’s important to let Indigenous people lead, when it comes to telling these stories. To listen, to be comfortable in the uncomfortableness, as it will be difficult for both sides,” she says.
“What we need is for reconciliation to be initiated by the other side. It is usually the party that has harmed that should begin the process of reparations and restitutions.”
For Indigenous people, “We see genocide ongoing,” Gabriel says. “The denial of Premier Legault to say there is no systemic racism, that creates an atmosphere that perpetuates genocide.”
“We want reconciliation to be ongoing, and to be on a daily basis.” She says that the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation should be more than just a holiday, but also “a national day of remembrance.”
Protesters gathered at the Sir George-Étienne Cartier monument near Mount-Royal. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
A few things should be put in place at the government level to ensure that reconciliation is moving forward. “I think there should be an independent group that monitors the government,” she says. “The government is supposed to have an annual report on their reconciliation progress, and as far as I am concerned, they really have not done anything.”
“Human rights are interrelated and interdependent,” she says, “if one is being violated, you cannot enjoy the rest of the human rights.”
“Indigenous Affairs minister Ian Lafreniere or Premier Legault often say that it’s a success, it’s not a success,” she says. “I have been doing this for 32 years, it’s really frustrating seeing the government continue its propaganda, saying look we have done it! Well no, you have not done it, because you continue to do it.”
She calls upon us, Quebecers and Canadians. “You have an obligation, not just a moral obligation but also a legal one, to make sure that reconciliation begins.”
“The government cannot claim it doesn’t know, “she says, “Canadians and Quebecers cannot claim they do not know, if you’re not doing anything to be part of the change then you are part of the problem.”
Resilience Montreal’s Community and Intervention Coordinator Maggie Chittspattio at the forefront of the crowd. She would translate Nakuset’s words in French and Naskapi. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
Inuk singer-songwriter Elisapie stood to the microphone, and performed a small excerpt from a song by her uncle Irsutuk Kakayuk, lead singer of the band Sugluk. For her, art is also part of the process, as it’s part of the stories being told. “Art has always been there, we have always had our ceremonies, our dances, and our stories,” she says.
“I think, nowadays, we are just expanding our realities, exploring how we want to tell them.” What matters most is to listen to Indigenous peoples, and understand the trauma they have faced for generations, without infringing on their will to share.
In her speech she quotes her friend, Innu doctor Stanley Vollant, who was standing in the crowd, looking at her with admiration. She says “We might be sick now, we might have great pain, but with time, maybe in a few generations, we will be healed. But for now, to move towards healing, we need to be heard, and to be given space.”
Elisapie starting her speech with an a cappella performance of her uncle Irsutuk Kakayuk’s song. CEDRIC GALLANT/The Concordian
The Concordian’s Music editor Guillaume Laberge and Video editor Jordan Tsering, asked students about their go-to songs that get them through the year.
Students share their opinions on the strike for a reading week in the fall semester
As of Oct. 2, 13 member associations (MAs) within the Arts and Science Federation of Associations (ASFA) have passed a mandate to strike from Oct. 3– 7 for a fall reading week. The growing awareness of the reading week strike has spread across Concordia, resulting in some students having strong thoughts on the subject.
The Concordian interviewed students across both Sir George Williams and Loyola campuses to get their opinions regarding the upcoming reading week strike:
Concordia students Amélie (left) and Lennie (right) at the Loyola campus. KAITLYNN RODNEY/ The Concordian
Amélie (left) and Lennie (right)
“I think it should happen because we have one in the winter, and other schools have them, so I think it only makes sense to have the whole week off to catch up on studies and have time for midterms,” said Lennie.
“I think it is a good idea because it’s important to have time to catch up on school, but it’s important to have time for other stuff than school like leisure, family or anything else in your life. I feel like when you’re in school you have less time for that,” said Amélie.
Concordia students Luca Quol (left) and Sofia Pofizkus (right) at the Loyola campus. KAITLYNN RODNEY/ The Concordian
Luca Quol (left) and Sofia Pofizkus (right)
“I honestly just learned about it yesterday. I am in support of it. I think it’s kind of ridiculous that we don’t have a reading week, it seems like every other university in Canada does,” said Quele.
“I think it’s a good idea, honestly, since everyone else has one. We also need a break in the fall, not just the winter,” said Pofizkus.
Portrait of Concordia student Emma Megelas at the Loyola campus. KAITLYNN RODNEY/ The Concordian
Emma Megelas
“I think that it’s beneficial for students to do the strike and the reading week. Not only will it give us more time to study and be prepared, it will help to spread out our schedule so that you’re not crammed with other exams you have to do. You also won’t feel so stressed with work or getting a good grade, so you can be feeling a lot more confident with what you got,” said Megelas.
Concordia students Luca Safar (right) and Exael Cormarie (left) at the Loyola campus. KAITLYNN RODNEY/ The Concordian
Luca Safar (right)and Exael Cormarie(left)
“I think it’s fair enough, you know what I mean? Reading weeks are important and they said that they would give one,” said Safar.
“I think it’s interesting and motivating to see everybody wanting to do this. I am an international student, so I don’t really know what a reading week is, but I do like the idea of having extra time to relax. We don’t seem to have that many breaks already throughout the term,” Exael said.
Portrait of Concordia student Mohammad Abdullah at Sir George Williams Campus. ANTONY FALCONE/ The Concordian
Mohammad Abdullah
“No, I am not against it. I wasn’t sure about the reading week strike but now that I heard about it, I’m sure that students should get the time to participate. They can get their homework done. It’s good to have a strike. I’ll probably catch up with my homework, my labs, assignments, and get ready for midterms,” Abdullah said.
Concordia students Francisco Ceballos (left) and Cesar Delossantos (right) at Sir George Williams Campus. ANTONY FALCONE/ The Concordian
Francisco Ceballos (left) and Cesar Delossantos (right)
“I think it should happen because other schools have a reading week in the fall term. I’m gonna need to study and catch up on my other classes,” said Delossantos, a civil engineering student.
“I think it’s a really good opportunity for students so they can catch up. Some students might have fallen behind on classes so it also gives them the opportunity to catch up. It has also been really crazy since we’ve been back in school. It’ll be great for everyone to relax, not stress out and settle down a little bit to use that time to catch up with notes and things like that,” said Ceballos, who is currently pursuing a degree in civil engineering.
Fora Fereydoumi at the Freedom for Iran rally. HANNAH TIONGSON/The Concordian
The Iranian Student Association of Concordia University is calling out the University for lack of support amid protests in Iran
Last month, Iran’s morality police arrested 22-year-old Mahsa Amini for not wearing a hijab. Amini died several days later while in custody, and many Iranians believe she was killed due to police violence. Her death triggered worldwide protests denouncing the Iranian regime.
As demonstrations continue to take place in Montreal, many Montrealers are helping organize and raise awareness. The Iranian Student Association of Concordia University (ISACU) is proactively spreading the word but demands more support from the University.
ISACU is a cultural club at Concordia, part of the International and Ethnic Associations Council (IEAC). Shayan Asgharian, president of the club, shared his frustration and disappointment with the lack of funding.
“We’re a cultural club. We barely get the funding for doing things like this. So everything we’re doing right now is almost out of pocket,” Asgharian explained.
“The IEAC has been more than slow in returning our money. We’ve made banners for protests, we’ve made posters, everything you can think of, and they’ve been horrible at returning our money,” he added.
Asgharian explained the lack of funding is worrisome for international students with limited access to money due to the current strikes in Iran. Since the death of Amini, Iranians have been striking every day and leaving their jobs, making it difficult for Iranian parents to support their children abroad financially.
A solution proposed by Asgharian is to divide tuition fees into segments for international students. Asgharian brought this up to Concordia’s Dean of Students Andrew Woodall in an email but was not acknowledged.
“Many students have had no contact with their family members, and [for] over a week due to the government’s shutting down the country’s internet. The shutting down of the country’s internet has also caused all international students to lose access to their banks in Iran,” Asgharian wrote.
“Therefore, paying tuition for them has become extremely hard. I was wondering if it would be possible to extend the date of the tuition deadline and even maybe divide the tuition into segments for students to be able to pay their tuition off easier,” he added.
Another request was better mental health support.
“We’ve all been really distraught […] by the current events in Iran. It feels like watching a genocide happening live in your country. There is no word to describe it,” said Daria Almasi, a member of ISACU.
Fora Fereydoumi, another member of ISACU, emphasized the need for better mental health support, specifically for Iranian students.
Earlier last week, the International Student Office (ISO) sent a letter to students of Iranian nationality to offer support and resources. A notice of support for Iranian students, faculty and staff was posted on Carrefour and the Student Hub.
“We appreciate the accommodation that the University offered to Iranian students in Concordia, but most of them are always open to all students. There is not something extra for Iranians,” said Fereydoumi.
Aboozar Beheshti, another member of ISACU, suggested that psychological services be provided in Farsi, the spoken language in Iran, to encourage Iranian students to communicate and express their thoughts.
Beheshti also asked the University to support the Iranian community the same way they supported the Ukrainian community.
“The Ukraine [war] did not [happen too long ago]. You know, it was just a few months ago. We can take it as an example of how the University tried to [raise] awareness and how the University tried to reach people to offer support,” said Beheshti.
Regardless of their current busy schedules, Asgharian, Almasi, Fereydoumi, and Beheshti all attended the Freedom Rally for Iran last Saturday, Oct. 1, in front of McGill University.
Saman Abolfathi is marching at the Freedom for Iran rally. HANNAH TIONGSON/The Concordian
Saman Abolfathi, a fourth-year psychology student, participated in the demonstration and raised similar concerns that members of ISACU did.
“I believe Concordia should have an official statement about what’s going on in Iran. Why [are] Concordia administrators and directors silent about it?” Abolfathi asked.
For international students like Abolfathi, exams and assignments are the least of their worries.
“I’m trying to help the organization of this protest, and every time I tried to contact my professors about it, they didn’t care that much, or maybe they did care, but they were like, ‘I cannot do anything for you,’ ” Abolfathi explained.
Protestors at the Freedom of Iran rally. HANNAH TIONGSON/The Concordian
While Concordia tries its best to support Iranian students and raise awareness, Montrealers were united as thousands gathered and marched for the Freedom Rally for Iran.
Among the many different women who delivered speeches was Alia Hassan-Cournol, elected official of the City of Montreal and associate councillor of Mayor Valérie Plante. Hassan-Cournol was present to share a word on behalf of Plante.
“We’re proud to see you fight for women’s rights, for freedom. So keep on doing that. Montreal is behind you guys,” said Hassan-Cournol.
The Iranian community of Montreal organized a second demonstration on Sept. 24 after 22-year-old Mahsa Amini died in police custody for wearing her hijab too loosely.
This article was originally published online and in print (Issue 3, Oct. 6) with an illustration of a woman wearing a hijab, which was later deemed to be inappropriate given the context of the article. We realized that placing this image in context with this story was insensitive and possibly offensive to some readers, and have since replaced it with a more appropriate image.
Iran has been overtaken by social unrest in the last few days following the murder of Mahsa Amini. The 22-year-old Iranian Kurdish woman died on Sept. 16, after having been arrested by the Iranian morality police for violating the state’s strict dress code by wearing her hijab incorrectly.
Following Amini’s death, protests have swept through Iran against the current authoritarian regime. Groups of Iranian women have been burning their hijabs and cutting their hair to protest the state-mandated control of their bodies.
Iranian state authorities have responded to the protests with strong repression, including an Internet shutdown to prevent Iranians from communicating outside of the country.
In spite of these measures, these protests have sparked an international movement of support among the Iranian diaspora.
Shayan Asgharian, president of the Iranian Student Association of Concordia University (ISACU), explained that these strong demonstrations are the sign of an uprising in Iran.
“The internet has been cut so we have relatively no access to our friends and family in Iran,” said Asgharian. “The people are out in the streets and they’re angrier than ever.”
On Saturday Sept. 24, Montreal’s Iranian community gathered for a second protest organized by ISACU.
Protesters stood at the intersection of de Maisonneuve Blvd. and Guy St. carrying signs that read “Women, life, freedom” and “#MahsaAmini”. According to Asgharian, around 6,000 people attended the protest.
“Around 10 per cent of Iranian people live outside of Iran,” explained Asgharian. “The diaspora has been more than vocal. In Montreal, in New York, in Toronto, in Berlin. In London the English police had to hold Iranian protesters from invading the Iranian embassy.”
Aida Naji, an Iranian refugee, was among the protestors on Saturday.
“I cut my hair for them, for Mahsa Amini,” said Naji. “She’s Kurdish, I’m half Kurdish too but it doesn’t matter where I’m from, I’m Iranian.”
Along with the other protesters, Naji chanted slogans in Farsi, French and English. “I’m a refugee here, I cannot go back but I’m here for my people,” said Naji.
Manijeh, an Iranian refugee living in Canada for over thirty years, was eager to talk about the protest but wanted to keep her last name anonymous. “There is this regime around the people, you understand it is a fascist government,” she said.
She explained that she was forced to leave her country after the Islamic Revolution of 1979 that ushered the Islamic Republic of Iran into power.
“After this regime came to power they started killing people, torturing people, putting people in prison so we had no other choice than to escape from the government and lose everything,” explained Manijeh.
Like many other Iranians living abroad, she and her loved ones decided to join the rising protests. “We are here to protest against what happened to this beautiful young woman that was killed just because she didn’t put on her hijab perfectly,” said Manijeh.
Asgharian believes that the anger felt during the protest has been building up for over 40 years, and that this is the first time the Iranian people are expressing this contestation towards the regime.
“The Iranian people have been malcontent but it is like a cup of water: one drop makes it overflow,” explained Asgharian.
Since the beginning of the protest movement, at least 50 protesters have been killed, according to the NGO Iran Human Rights (IHR). Nevertheless, Iranians are still taking to the streets.
“It seems like it is leading towards a full scale revolution,” said Asgharian. “We’re either gonna see some changes within the regime or in general. I think the regime can’t go back to the way that it was.”
Student Life Coorindator Harley Martin during Wednesday's CSU meeting. CATHERINE REYNOLDS/The Concordian
The CSU reassembles for the first Regular Council Meeting of the fall semester
On Wednesday, Sept. 21, representatives from the Concordian Student Union (CSU) gathered at the Hall building to attend the first Regular Council Meeting (RCM) of the 2022-23 school year. In total, seven representatives on the CSU’s executive team and eight CSU councillors attended to discuss initiatives for the upcoming year. Here were the major topics of discussion:
$30,000 worth of funding remains inaccessible due to lack of volunteers on CSU committees
During the committee appointment phase at the RCM, a number of CSU committees struggled to fill the vacant positions on their respective bodies, leaving many committees at risk of being unable to meet their respective quorums.
The impact of the shortage of volunteers means that the CSU will have severely limited operational capabilities for the foreseeable future. One example of the consequences of this volunteer shortage is the Student Life Committee (SLC).
The SLC, which oversees the allocation of around $30,000 worth of funding within the special-project fund, was in need of three additional committee members at last week’s meeting before it could resume operations.
Student life coordinator Harley Martin made sure to stress that unless these vacant positions are filled, the SLC would be unable to reconvene and the special-project fund would remain inaccessible for student use in the foreseeable future.
“I get multiple emails every week of people wanting to apply on this funding,” said Martin. “But we need to have a committee to vote to open that funding in the first place. So we really need people to join.”
Despite Martin’s pleas, only one CSU executive volunteered and was appointed to the SLC on Wednesday.
Amendments to the 2022-23 mural festival project
Another motion passed at the RCM — the 2022-23 mural motion — included two amendments made to a motion from last year, regarding the establishment of a mural within the G-Lounge space located at Concordia’s Loyola Campus.
Both amendments, which were presented by the CSU’s Loyola Coordinator Sabrina Morena, involved the reallocation of the project to a different artist from the one specified in the original motion. The amendments also ensured that the CSU would prioritize Black, Indigenous, and people of colour (BIPOC) artists during the selection process for the project.
When questioned about the rationale behind the amendments, councillor Morena clarified that the amendments were necessary once it became apparent that the artist initially commissioned for the project was unable to complete the project within the intended time frame due to prior obligations.
Referendum on CSU General Operations Fee Levy increase to be featured on upcoming bi-election ballet.
The CSU unanimously approved a motion to include a referendum question regarding a 25-cents-per-credit increase to the CSU General Operations Fee Levy in the upcoming CSU bi-elections.
The referendum will provide students with the opportunity to vote on whether or not they approve the proposed increase of the CSU General Operations Fee Levy from $2.46 to $2.71 per credit. If passed, the fee levy increase will be implemented as early as the beginning of the 2023 winter semester.
While presenting the motion to the RCM on Wednesday, academic and advocacy coordinator Asli Isaaq stated that the intention behind the fee levy increase is to help the CSU provide additional services to meet the surge in demand with the return to in-person instruction.
CSU opens Student Space, Accessible Education, and Legal Contingency Fund (SSAELC) to striking Members of Associations (MAs)
The CSU also voted in favour of amending its policy to allow for the SSAELC to fund student associations on strike. CSU’s external affairs and mobilization coordinator Julianna Smith explained the application process for funds through reimbursement. MAs should expect to receive a reimbursement around mid to late October.
The CSU’s decision comes after multiple MAs passed mandates to go on strike in the coming weeks. As of Wed, Sept. 28, 11 MAs under the Arts and Science Federation of Associations (ASFA) have approved a strike from Oct. 3 to 7 in support of a fall reading week for the 2022-23 school semester.
National Truth and Reconciliation Day is right around the corner — let’s talk
For the second time since its establishment in 2021, Canadians will celebrate National Truth and Reconciliation Day on Sept. 30. This statutory holiday honours the survivors of residential schools as well as those who never returned from them. What better way to commemorate and learn from the past than to take some time to educate ourselves on Indigenous issues?
Like many students in Quebec, Kenny Gourdet, a black political science undergrad at Concordia, says she was taught the same “European explorers came to populate society” story over and over again. A prime example of colonialism is how history classes often glorify the arrival of Europeans to the Americas, where they would supposedly save Indigenous peoples by “civilizing” them.
When Gourdet started pursuing her minor in First Peoples Studies, she realized how colonialism had tainted her education. “I think through that minor, I’m starting to understand what decolonization means to me, and what I can do to actively be a part of decolonization,” she explains.
Manon Tremblay, Senior Director of Indigenous Directions at Concordia University, says, “I’ve always thought that if you get anything out of university, regardless of what you study, it is openness of mind.”
Tremblay, who is also Plains Cree and a member of the Muskeg Lake Cree Nation, explains the Office of Indigenous Directions came up with the Indigenous Directions Action Plan in 2019. This “blueprint” as she calls it outlines 40 recommendations to tackle reconciliation, indigenization and decolonization at Concordia. These recommendations include creating institutional protocols to better engage with Indigenous knowledge, encouraging the use of Indigenous languages at Concordia, increasing opportunities for Indigenous graduates and students, decolonizing the institution and curriculum, and more.
“Decolonization is not dismantling systems that work,” says Tremblay. “It’s basically looking at systems and at those parts that don’t work for Indigenous people and may constitute barriers to success.”
As Gourdet puts it, decolonization is the undoing of colonialism. For her, it starts by unlearning the aspects of her life that have been affected by it, whether it be her education or her perception of herself.
All hands on deck
“Decolonization belongs to everyone,” says Ezgi Ozyonum, a PhD candidate in education at Concordia. She is also a researcher and events coordinator at the Decolonial Perspectives and Practices Hub (DPPH).
Her colleague Sandra Mouafo, a sociology undergrad, describes the DPPH as an incubator for initiatives, activism and empowerment. Their team aims to amplify the voices of students whose perspectives are left out of conversations that pertain to their wellbeing and future. The DPPH works to bridge the gap between academia and different ethnic communities within the student body.
“Nobody is safe from oppression,” says Mouafo. “If tomorrow it’s your neighbour, the next day it’s you. You shouldn’t wait until the fire gets to your house before you start worrying about it.”
She adds that decolonization can be discussed from many standpoints, ranging from politics to academia to interpersonal relationships. According to her, these reflections should begin by asking ourselves: “How do we look at society from a different lens than colonialism?”
Both Ozyonum and Mouafo strongly believe decolonization is plural, meaning it requires a plethora of diverse perspectives. They say understanding multiple viewpoints will help contribute to decentering dominant models and patterns of oppression.
Ozyonum likes to use the word “decolonizing” as a verb. For her, it’s an ongoing effort to challenge colonial engagement and systemic oppression in the world.
According to Mouafo, everyone is responsible for deconstructing colonial influences and holding themselves accountable, whether they are racialized or non-racialized bodies.
“We are all here on one earth and we are responsible for the actions or the things that happened in the past,” says Ozyonum. “We are responsible to learn from history.”
Looking back at previous education
Gourdet realizes how strong a hold colonialism had on the predominantly white private high school she attended. “I never felt like the school I went to created a safe space for me and my diversity,” she admits.
At first, Gourdet didn’t think too much of her school’s pride in its founder, Wilfrid Laurier, but then she finally learned the truth behind Laurier’s involvement with Indigenous residential schools and anti-immigration policies through her political science classes. “His name was and is still plastered all across the school,” emphasizes Gourdet.
During her time there, Gourdet says the only effort to welcome diversity was the organization of a week-long event that superficially highlighted multiculturalism, “to show white kids diversity exists.” Other than that, Gourdet thinks the school’s promotion of diversity was shallow. “I felt like the school’s view on diversity was transmitted to the whole student body,” she said.
Although oppression affects all marginalized communities, the main targets of colonialism in Canada are Indigenous peoples, as we stand on their lands. Concordia’s efforts to indigenize aim to bring Indigenous voices to the University’s administration and academia.
So how is Concordia doing?
“Education is key,” shares Tremblay. “You can go forth in your life after university and see systems a bit differently and have a better openness of spirit and of mind.” However, as Gourdet’s experience highlights, students can absorb colonialist mindsets when they are in colonialist environments.
Concordia’s first steps into decolonization date back to 1992, when the Otsenhákta Student Centre was established, which serves as a resource for First Nations, Inuit and Métis students. Concordia’s decolonization efforts are now primarily orchestrated by the Office of Indigenous Directions.
“I think we’ve made some really good progress,” says Tremblay. “It helps that we have the unwavering commitment of higher administration. They believe in this, and they want to see it happen.”
On Friday, Sept. 16, Concordia hosted a powwow, which Tremblay deems to have been quite a success. She says they aim to organize more Indigenous-themed activities to increase visibility, but also to educate. “Not everything about Indigenous people is oppression,” she states. “We have things to celebrate too.”
Otsenhákta Student Centre Pow Wow. KAITLYNN RODNEY/The Concordian
The University has also incorporated territorial acknowledgement to its decolonial practices, stating that “the Kanien’kehá:ka Nation is recognized as the custodians of the lands and waters on which we gather today. Tiohtià:ke/Montréal is historically known as a gathering place for many First Nations. Today, it is home to a diverse population of Indigenous and other peoples.”
“I think Concordia is good at initiating and providing spaces,” says Ozyonum. She believes the only missing piece is communication. “In this part, the Hub has a role to play,” she adds, since the DPPH works to reform systemic injustices in higher education.
Among other events, Ozyonum often organizes syllabus deconstruction workshops, where students, teachers and administration members meet to carefully deconstruct colonial patterns in their syllabi. “They talk about the power dynamics and how to reimagine the classroom with this syllabus, because a syllabus for us is a tool,” explains Ozyonum.
Both Ozyonum and Mouafo agree that the process to decolonize classrooms will take time, effort, and a lot of important conversations. Looking at the different aspects of our lives with a critical eye is the foundation for decolonizing ourselves and our environments.
“The thing with decolonization is that it’s not simple,” shrugs Mouafo. “It is a tireless commitment.”
The Office for Indigenous Directions aims to decolonize curriculums by bringing in more Indigenous experts and perspectives. This allows them to explore ways of teaching that every student finds a benefit to, according to Tremblay.
As Tremblay explains, not all cultures that fit under the “Indigenous” umbrella term agree with what needs to be done. “There’s a constant need for engagement to make sure that we’re always moving in the right direction,” she says.
Decolonizing and indigenizing need to be done continuously. “It’s work that’s long,” says Tremblay. “We’re not always going to see the results right away.” That’s why the Office of Indigenous Directions is committed to reviewing their action plan regularly. Their latest update was in June 2021.
Although education is a good place to foster conversations on decolonization, Ozyonum affirms that “Decolonization should be happening on all levels, and in different places, so it shouldn’t only be happening in school.”
A path of stepping stones
Mouafo adds that decolonization shouldn’t stem from a virtuous and heroic place, but from a humble willingness to learn and to become better people. It is an individual effort as much as it is a collective effort.
Although decolonization seems like a huge challenge, the DPPH members encourage everyone to simply try. “Even mistakes can be our learning opportunities,” smiles Ozyonum. A variety of resources, webinars and workshops are offered by Concordia’s Indigenous Directions Learning Series Pîkiskwêtân(Cree for “let’s talk”).
Self-education outside academia can happen through books, movies, series, podcasts and more. Because decolonization is an increasingly hot topic, resources are becoming more and more accessible. The CBC podcast Telling our Twisted Histories, which addresses the erasure of Indigenous perspectives in Canadian history, is one of many examples.
“There’s no right way of being decolonial,” says Mouafo. “It’s a colonial mindset to think there is one right way,” she laughs.
As Ozyonum says, we are responsible for building our future — a future where we look at the world in an intersectional way and live in respectful dialogue.
“Have these conversations,” implores Mouafo. “And if you’re uncomfortable, that means you’re in the right place, because this conversation is not meant to be comfortable. It’s not meant to be easy, but it’s needed.”
