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The mandatory attendance policy at Concordia

How the university’s policy actually improved my educational experience

I enter the dim lecture hall, eyes drooping with fatigue and boredom.

It’s the beginning of the semester, and this is my third and final class on a long Tuesday afternoon. I’m wandering the room in search of a seat, already counting down the minutes until I can leave.

A guest speaker is introduced amidst a clatter of emotionless clapping and deep resentment. I realize I’m really only here for one single, simple and superficial reason: to sign my name on that damn attendance sheet.

Welcome to Journalism 206: Introduction to Reporting, also known as the mandatory conference.

For the next hour, I will stay put and pretend I am not fantasizing about catching the next bus. The only time I will move is when I am confronted with every student’s greatest foe: the infamous attendance sheet.

Having been at Concordia for three semesters, I’m all too familiar with the terms and conditions of the university’s attendance policy. According to the university regulations listed on their website, “class participation which, in certain disciplines, may justify an attendance requirement,” implies students have to go to class to get participation grades.

Despite my pride as an ambitious university student, my academic merit is subject to the same policing and babying of a high school student.

I thought by now I wouldn’t have to justify myself when I can’t make it to class—let alone be punished for it.

I really don’t have time to listen to someone else’s success story, I think to myself. “I’m trying to create my own.”

Yet to my surprise, after attending this mandatory conference for the past few weeks, I suddenly realized how wrong I’d been about this class. When Montreal Gazette reporter Christopher Curtis spoke to our class, my world was revolutionized. He told us that we can infuse our journalism with creativity, and use our writing as an expressive tool to disseminate thought. Curtis was definitely insightful, and if it hadn’t been for the attendance sheet, I would’ve missed this inspiring lecture.    

I receive school credit for listening to the testimonies of successful people in my field. I get to learn the dos and don’ts without so much as lifting a finger. It is the most valuable hour in my entire week, and remarkably, it is also the most effortless.

Concordia often holds special events at which alumni and guest speakers are invited to share their stories. When stressed and overworked students need to sacrifice something from their schedules, most likely, they will end up skipping the extracurricular visit. Only those with spare time and flexible schedules can afford to attend these events. All students deserve an equal opportunity to receive real-life inspiration. By making the guest speaker conferences mandatory in the curriculum of every university program, this chance would be made fair.

Fortune favours the prepared mind. No matter how high your GPA, no matter how great your personality, you will always be at a disadvantage if you shelter yourself from the realities of the field you are trying to enter.

As a student who loathed the mandatory attendance policy for the past three semesters, I am happy to say that I am finally pleased to see an attendance sheet. I sign my name with pride, knowing that my presence is not just a boost to my GPA, but to my wisdom as a professional.

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Don’t you dare judge the hijab

A rebuttal to a disturbing and misinformed article regarding the burkini ban

Last month, The Concordian published an opinion piece entitled “Advocating for a full ban of the controversial burkini.” The argument made by the contributor was typical. It claimed that Muslim women who wear the burkini are disempowered and are prevented from “taking full control of their bodies.” After reading the article, I was infuriated, annoyed and disturbed to say the least, and I’m tired of these stereotypes surrounding Islam.

A 2016 study released by the Environics Institute, a Canadian-based social science research centre, revealed the number of hijab-wearing women has increased over the last decade in Canada, particularly among younger adults between the ages of 18 and 34. Also, 52 per cent of Canadian Muslim women wear the hijab or other headscarves in public, according to the same study. Many women choose to wear the hijab—they don’t wear it simply because they were coerced into doing so by their religion, as the article implied.

The idea of the hijab as a tool of oppression is widely held throughout the Western world. In my opinion, the hijab isn’t a symbol of oppression. Oppression exists because of various socio-economic reasons, and it exists in countries outside of the Muslim world.

Graphic by Florence Yee

I won’t argue that oppression isn’t a problem in Islamic countries. There are a lot of countries under Islamic law that impose restrictions on women which are completely unjustified—but these are not issues that stem from Islam. For example, in Saudi Arabia, women are not allowed to drive. Many people blame Islam for this policy but in the Qur’an, it is stated nowhere that this is true.

Countries such as Saudi Arabia and Pakistan are led by predominantly male political and religious leaders who—in my opinion—misinterpret the Qur’an and implement made-up rules that allow them to control women. It’s a question of culture, not religion.

In the article that was published, the writer chose to use a verse from the Qur’an that says that women should conceal their bodies and only reveal themselves to their husband. The thing is, there’s a huge double standard when it comes to Islam and the idea of sexism. For example, in the Christian bible, there are also verses where women are deemed inferior to men. I could take any religious quote from any religious text and distort the meaning, thus taking it completely out of context.

When the Qur’an was first written, it actually gave a lot of women in the Arab Peninsula rights they didn’t have before. For example, the fourth chapter of the Qur’an is titled “An-Nisa” or “Women” and discusses women’s issues and inheritance laws. Women were allowed to inherit property during this time, and were entitled to child support if they chose to divorce.

To a Muslim woman who chooses to wear the headscarf or to dress modestly, the hijab means to be free. She is choosing to put the attention not on her physical beauty, but on the other assets that make her who she is: her brain, her wit, her thoughts. The hijab emphasizes a woman’s personality, and she is simply asserting that her physical appearance shouldn’t play a role in her social interactions. Also, women who choose to wear the hijab might be doing so because of their own personal relationship with God. There are various reasons for women to dress modestly not just because they feel forced to do so.  

When I defend the hijab, I’m usually told that I have internalized sexism and that I’m allowing women to be oppressed by Islam. But that’s not true. I’m an intersectional feminist, which means that I advocate for those of various social identities and those who are oppressed or discriminated against because of their race, sexuality, etc. While I agree a woman shouldn’t be forced to wear something she doesn’t want to, I also defend the idea that a woman shouldn’t be told not to wear something just because it might offend a few Westerners.

The hijab is another form of female expression, not oppression. Here in Canada, women are allowed to dress however they want, and Muslim women absolutely have the right to wear the hijab if they chose to do so.

Read the article ‘Advocating for a full ban of the controversial burkina’ here: theconcordian.com/2016/09/banontheburkini

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Why Concordia needs a ‘female only’ space

The university should create mandated safe space specifically for women

As a feminist and a survivor of sexual assault, I’ve been very open in sharing my own personal experiences, keeping in mind it may provide the strength and courage for other survivors to come forward and speak out.

My experiences with sexual assault are unfortunately not uniquean estimated 460,000 women are sexually assaulted every year in Canada, according to the YWCA, Canada’s largest multi service-organization for women.  

When I saw Kelly Oxford, a Canadian author, screenwriter and social media blogger,  ask women on Twitter to share their first experience with sexual assault in response to Donald Trump’s leaked audio saying he grabbed a woman “by the pussy,” a flood of memories came back.

Graphic by Florence Yee

What was my earliest recollection of sexual assault? The time a stranger pressed himself up against me on the metro? The time someone slapped and grabbed my butt as I headed to class? The time a guy groped my breasts and then laughed as I ran off crying?

Could these (amongst other more graphic) instances be why I often feel unsafe walking alone? Or why I feel uncomfortable being at school surrounded by groups of men? I had never really thought about it before. I realized I often felt unsafe in public, but I always assumed it was because I grew up in a small town. I never thought there could be another reason.

This is why women need a women-only space at Concordia. We shouldn’t  need our own space. We should not feel afraid when men sit next to us. We should not feel unsafe at our own school—but some of us do.

We feel unsafe and uncomfortable because so many of us have had similar experiences with sexual assault, and sometimes more than once. Women are also the most vulnerable to sexual assault, with 15 to 20 per cent of female students experiencing some form of sexual violence during their time in university, according to Concordia’s Sexual Assault Resource Centre (SARC).  

Hopefully one day women can stop being afraid, but for now, we should have a place of refuge, even if it’s just to study for a few minutes without being ogled—even if it’s just to finally catch our breath and say “I am safe.” How many women do you know go to the washroom just to get away from men who are harassing them? I can say with certainty that the vast majority of the women I know have.

Several universities across Canada have implemented designated women-only sessions at their campus gyms, including the University of Toronto, Ottawa, Winnipeg and Ryerson, according to The Mcgill Daily.  

It is time for Concordia to prove that it is a progressive, feminist university by taking an initiative to make women feel safe, not just when they exercise, but wherever they are in the school by giving them a safe space.

Kelly Oxford received thousands of tweets from women sharing their stories of sexual assault. The number of incoming tweets was so overwhelming that her story went viral. Sexual assault is not a rare occurrence, and victims of it are everyday people like you and me. Whether it’s that shy girl who sits in the corner at the back of class and keeps to herself, or that bubbly girl who goes to every party—it can be anyone. Any of these women may (and probably) have been a victim of sexual assault.

The first step to making a change is awareness. If you’d like to see a women-only space at Concordia, talk to your friends, your peers, or your program’s student organization.

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Editorial: Dear students, stop hiding behind Spotted: Concordia

Yes, we’re going there. Someone call the fire department to put out this blaze.

Now we will admit, we do enjoy Spotted: Concordia for their cheeky content. Where else can one find a mixed bag of pathetic romantic posts, an endless supply of memes and, of course, actual concerns from Concordia students?

Recently though, members of the Spotted community have been taking aim at the student press, posting vindictive messages about The Link and our beloved paper, The Concordian. These posts have described our publications as “SJW,” which means Social Justice Warrior—and claimed that we don’t accurately represent the university.

One post even targeted our opinions editor, calling him a “liberal and socialist,” and stated he was reminiscent of “a goddamn buzzfeed article.” Sounds like we’ve got ourselves a troll on our hands.

A screenshot from the Spotted: Concordia Facebook page.

But this is part of the job, and as journalists, we are accustomed to dealing with harsh comments along these lines. Whenever you publish your writing, it’s bound to be criticized to some degree.  

We’ve also seen political critiques from students that claim we are leftist, while others will claim that we’re too right-wing and conservative compared to our counterparts. Most of these comments are coming from individuals who’ve only read one article, or seen a cover or two, because we try to be nonpartisan and present the facts in a professional and journalistic manner as best as we can. We also try to be open to the different views out there. But we clearly can’t please everyone, and that’s okay.

The real problem here is that certain students think our paper is controlled by university bureaucrats that tell us what to write, spewing propaganda on the weekly.

The truth is actually quite the opposite, and while we occasionally communicate with Chris Mota, the director of Communications at Concordia, our news and opinions sections have actually spurred a reaction from the university in the past. Particularly, when we broke the news story regarding the student who filed a human rights complaint against Concordia last month.

It’s also important to add that The Concordian‘s content is made up of student contributors who submit their articles every week. The students come from a variety of academic backgrounds, writing levels and styles. Our editorial staff is also quite diverse, with many individuals on our masthead coming from backgrounds in JMSB, the arts and fine arts, and not solely from the journalism department. This creative and pluralistic environment allows the writers to express their unique and distinct voices.

Our pages are open to everyone from the student population—moreover, we also accept articles from fellow alumni. If you want to write, you can. If you don’t like what you see, you can get in contact with us and write what you think needs to be written. Whether it’s a rebuttal to an opinions piece you disagreed with or a letter to the editor, there are ways to express yourself through The Concordian. We are open to critique, and in fact, encourage it, as we are always looking to better our content. That being said, we are all students collaborating, thus, we are all learning as we go.

It’s way more cowardly to hide behind a computer screen under the guise of Spotted: Concordia—instead, why not contribute to student press and have your voice really heard?

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Dealing with the police as a visible minority

How my experiences and perceptions of the police have changed over time

As a person of colour, I’ve grown up to learn that professionals might not always help me. In airports, my family and I are always scrutinized—it’s become comical when my mother’s hijab and my father’s brown skin are glared at.

I’ve sat quietly as police officers show lack of interest when my mother’s car gets hit—instead of looking into her eyes, they stare at her scarf. I’ve sat quietly when my father’s explanations are ignored and instead, police officers smirk at his accent and refuse to listen.  

I read the news and I feel angry at the way people of colour are mistreated in the United States, and even in Canada. The things I see and have dealt with reinforce my negative idea of them. Usually, I steer clear of police officers because I have the perception that they’re more likely to be rude to me, than helpful.

However, a recent video spread on social media has made me question my misconceptions about police officers. On September 21, Leon Shand, a man in a wheelchair, was being harassed by a Montreal police officer who identified himself as Officer L’Heureux. Shand was in the middle of crossing the street when the light turned red. L’Heureux confronted him for being in the intersection and then aggressively pushed his wheelchair and searched through his bag without a warrant. After seeing the video, I was disgusted by the way Shand was treated. I was outraged when the police officer said, “I’m going to give you a fucking ticket. You asked for it.”  

My reaction was to immediately revert to my bias about police officers. Shand, who is black, was at the wrong place at the wrong time. My first thought was, “It’s because he’s black and in a wheelchair.” After a few moments, I realized I made a hasty generalization.

How was I to know whether or not Officer L’Heureux acted like that because Shand was black? I found myself questioning the opinions I’ve held for so long. Why was I so quick to jump and label the officer as racist?

Many believe that Canada doesn’t have a race problem when it comes to policing—but that’s not necessarily true. Statistics Canada tracks fatal police shootings when an officer is criminally charged, however statistics regarding race are not recorded. According to The Guardian, between 2005 and 2015, the number of black convicts in Canadian prisons has jumped by 69 per cent. In another report released by CBC News, the province of Ontario will be reviewing the way police officers interact with indigenous peoples, after a series of deaths whilst in police custody.

Although these statistics and facts do exist, I can’t rely solely on them and my experiences when I label police officers as rude or racist. I’ve realized that perhaps there is more to Officer L’Heureux—maybe he was having a bad day, or maybe he’s drunk on the authority that’s been handed to him. The main thing is—I don’t know everything.

I can’t possibly justify my own misconceptions and biases without confronting the possibility that maybe I’m wrong. While experiences do factor into our perceptions of people, we shouldn’t typecast police officers, especially when so many people are trying to hold them accountable for doing the same to civilians.

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Concordia is not an intellectual “free market”

Why liberal bias on campus hurts freedom of speech

Free speech has recently become a contentious topic at The Concordian. Last week, the newspaper published an article titled “Safe spaces: Both useful and necessary,” refuting my previous objections to safe spaces.

One of the article’s main arguments, stated that “the increase in safe spaces across university campuses is a sign that the concept of a safe space is succeeding in this ‘free market.’” But claiming that all universities, and Concordia specifically, represent a free market is not just intellectually dishonest—it’s laughable.

Liberal bias is institutionally entrenched by students and universities. Dissenters can do little to be heard when universities, university groups and students stifle opinions.

The Toronto Sun reported that Generation Screwed, a group opposing expanding entitlements and government control, was kicked off a parking space at Laval University last month for “unsanctioned activism.” The university demanded the group get a permit to protest, which the school refused to give, without stating a reason.

“The very concept of having to get a permit to express yourself we think is just absolutely ridiculous,” said Aaron Gunn, executive director of Generation Screwed, according to the same article in the Toronto Sun. Protesting is a right—one university’s should not institutionally control.

Even when universities do the right thing, many students help perpetrate this authoritarian control of the narrative. According to CBC News, a student from Mount Royal University in Calgary was recently threatened and robbed of his “Make America Great Again” hat by students who called it “hate language.”

I like to wear my “Make America Great Again” hat too. The pro safe spaces article in The Concordian indicated speech limitations in safe spaces are no more extreme than Canada’s Charter. But when political disagreement is deemed hateful, like the incident in Alberta and through my own experiences as a conservative have shown me it is, we’re left with no choice but to succumb to Big Brother or be shunned.

Narrative-control happens at Concordia too, albeit more insidiously. Recently, Reggies hosted a Rap Battle for Climate Justice, organized by the CSU and student groups, to discuss the topic of pipelines, fossil fuels, and tar sands through a rap battle. Despite featuring arguments and counterarguments for environmental justice, the event was anything but a real battle.

The pro-economy performers were caricatures “dressed in suits, walking around throwing fake $100 bills in every direction,” it was written in The Concordian article covering the event. Participant Mutatayi Fuamba even admitted that everyone present shared the same opinions. “We are all against fossil fuels—we are all for social justice and climate justice,” he said.

Climate justice is complex. Yes, protecting the environment and communities is important—but so are the millions of jobs and dollars tied up in Alberta’s oil industry.

I’m tired of our campus pretending it wants to tackle big issues, then asserting its bias as inherently correct through careful manipulation of speakers. We’re not having discussions so much as lectures in echo chambers.

The opinions of marginalized students should be heardbut dissenters shouldn’t automatically be labeled hateful, racist, sexist or anything else.

I don’t want liberal or marginalized speakers silenced—I want a variety of speakers. I want to be persuaded with well-formulated arguments from both sides. I want to be encouraged to share my opinions and political affiliations without fear of attack, theft or character assassination.

When Concordia organizes events with speakers from the same side of the argument under the guise of discussion, not all sides are being truly addressed. Those who haven’t done a lot of research on some of these complex issues might assume all sides are being represented, and that liberal ideas are winning. But they’re not—they’re just not competing.

Graphic by Florence Yee

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Bikers Beware! Your wallets are in danger!

Cops litter the Maisonneuve bike path with their cash-grabbing tactics

One of my favourite weather-permitting pastimes is biking. Even in Toronto, where I’m from, I cycled everywhere—to school, to meet friends, to work. As a student, I’ve been using my bike for years to cut back on transportation costs. In all those years, I never once got a ticket while on my bike. I’d never really even considered it. But a few weeks ago, I got a ticket for not making a complete halt at a stop sign—and I am beyond pissed off.

I was biking along a typically quiet, low-traffic section of the De Maisonneuve bike path, around 2:30 p.m. I slowed down as I approached an intersection somewhere between Clarke and Greene Ave but, after seeing it was clear, I decided to continue through, mainly to keep my momentum—which hundreds of bikers do all the time—and it all went smoothly. There were no car-bike or bike-bike altercations. Yet next thing I knew, a whistle was blaring behind me. I stopped and turned around to see what had happened, only to find this G.I Joe-like officer running towards me at full-speed.

It was all so overly-dramatic—the chase, the questioning, the identification process. I mean, I truly could not believe it was me that he was pulling over. I was issued a $48 ticket, which although it isn’t a substantial amount, it still puts a decent dent in my already-too-small student budget.

I thought I was the anomaly until, within 24 hours of being issued my ticket, I found at least two other cyclists on social media who received tickets for going through stop signs. These two cyclists were ticketed in front of Laurier Park and at the corner of Bellechasse and St Dominique, according to two Facebook posts on the MTL Trading Hole page.

The whole situation reached another level of ridiculous when the officer ticketing me attempted to reassure me by saying: “I’m issuing you this ticket in the name of road safety.”

Hold up. Rewind. Let’s pretend that my ticket was truly issued “in the name of road safety.” Firstly, I would have been pegged in an area where the safety of road-users is legitimately threatened. For example, Melville Ave, where cyclists would be emerging from Westmount Park, having gained speed through the sloped, winding paths. This is blocks away from Clarke Ave though, and had I been flagged there, I likely would not be writing this article. But was an officer stopping cyclists there? Nope.

Because you see, fellow bikers, these cops don’t get into their cruisers wanting to make our roads safer. The Montreal police have admitted previously that “officers in the city’s special traffic squad are given traffic ticket quotas,” according to CBC News Montreal. Following this is a statement highlighting how the police didn’t admit to traffic quotas earlier because “it would have created negative publicity,” reports the same CBC News article. Does this sound as though all this ticketing is truly “in the name of road safety?”

And to what avail? The issuing of this ticket to me and a few other bikers won’t cause some societal cathartic re-evaluation of how we navigate and share the roads. It’s time we find a more effective solution—something that really is in the name of road safety.

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Safe spaces: Both useful and necessary

Why misconceptions about safe spaces lead to conflict

As safe spaces pop up on university campuses across the country, so too does the debate of limiting free speech. All too often, critics of safe spaces say the concept is designed to keep out ideas or opinions that conflict with a particular set of beliefs or values. And all too often, I’ve heard people call these spaces “closed-minded,” and complain that students are being babied and coddled.

These arguments barely have a leg to stand on. In some cases, this dislike towards safe spaces is a genuine disrespect of an individual’s right to want to get away from various forms of oppression. However, I do feel much of the aversion to these spaces stems from a lack of understanding of what a safe space actually is. I rarely see any critiques of safe spaces actually take the time to properly explain what a safe space is, or the complexity of safe space policies in general. So, before breaking down why the spaces actually contribute to campus and student life, it’s important to look at what constitutes a safe space.

While the specifics of any particular safe space vary, at its essence, it’s a space where individuals can feel protected from unwanted or unsafe situations based on gender, race, age, sexuality, religion affiliation and other aspects of identity, orientation or beliefs. In these spaces, respect for every individual’s background and experiences is key. In communities as diverse as Montreal and Concordia, students from all walks of life have different relationships with the world, and it’s vital that we provide a space that allows for a respectful conversation about these differences.

Graphic by Florence Yee.

Certain groups with particular goals or mandates will create safe space rules that reflect their values. This summer, executives—including myself—at Concordia’s LGBTQ+ resource centre, Queer Concordia, rewrote the organization’s safe space policy. In it, we highlighted the importance of creating a space free from not only homophobia and transphobia, but also sexism, racism and ableism, among other aspects of identity. The policy also has specific rules against hate speech, and outlines a specific protocol for addressing various offences of the safe space policy, including the handling of offensive language.

Canadians have a fundamental, undeniable right to free speech as outlined in the Charter of Rights and Freedoms—but even those rights fall short of protecting against hate speech. In that regard, safe spaces like Queer Concordia’s don’t deny anyone any freedom of speech rights already implemented in the law.

Where the confusion comes in is perhaps the prohibited use of “offensive language” and the difficulty in defining what can be considered offensive. Everyone has a different line as to what they find offensive, and it’s difficult to draw one solid line in the sand. However, safe spaces like the one at Queer Concordia try to create a “call-out culture” where “calling out” offensive language and sentiments can be used as an opportunity to educate people about why certain language or expressions are considered offensive.The process of “calling out” involves explaining and discussing why a phrase, expression or action is offensive—the total opposite of shutting down all conversation. This isn’t stifling free speech, this is creating a culture where we can break down the language we use, and understand how it’s harmful to marginalized groups or individuals.

It’s also important to note that “calling out” doesn’t happen only to privileged individuals or those with different political views, but it could also happen to marginalized people who may speak offensively without realizing it. “Calling out” shouldn’t be considered shameful or mean—it’s a way to generate conversation and realize our own biases and problematic tendencies.

For marginalized students, safe spaces can be one of the only places they feel they have the power or security to discuss these ideas. It’s easy to say bad ideas can be defeated in a sort of “free market” of ideas. However, when you consider that these marginalized individuals have long been denied the opportunity to discuss their ideas in any way, how else are new ideas from these marginalized communities supposed to develop?

Safe spaces provide a place for different ideas to develop and grow without being shut down by a system that was never created to account for differing perspectives—like modern-day versions of 18th century salons in France, home to intellectual discussions lead by marginalized groups. If nothing else, the increase in safe spaces across university campuses is a sign that the concept of a safe space is succeeding in this “free market.”

These safe spaces are generally small pockets scattered across campuses, not large, university-led initiatives. Having safe spaces on campus isn’t affecting the whole student population. Even the use of trigger warnings in class won’t end the possibility of debate or discussion—they simply give students the opportunity to leave the room if they feel the need to do so. In a cinema course I took last year, one of the films screened was I Spit On Your Grave—the 1978 film infamous for having the longest rape scene in history at around 25 minutes. By warning the class, the professor might have saved victims of sexual violence from reliving their traumatic experiences. It’s unrealistic to expect victims of sexual violence to disclose this sort of private and personal information to their professors. The 30 seconds it takes to warn students about something like this takes nothing away from other students’ learning experience.

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Is groping on the metro really “a big deal?”

Discussing the issue of safety regarding Montreal’s public transport system

There are thousands of people who use the Montreal metro system every single day. It’s a means of getting from home, to school, to work. But for some women, a metro ride can take an unpleasant turn when, suddenly, you feel you’re trapped in a room with no way out.

A conversation I overheard recently angered me. A man was discussing sexual harassment complaints while on the metro with his friend. He ignorantly asked: “Is it really such a big deal to be groped on the metro? It’s a damn compliment!” I cringed as he guffawed with his friend, and couldn’t help but think that this is why victims don’t always talk about their experiences. They’re afraid of being asked, “Is it really a big deal?”

Isha Sheikh, 20, was headed home from school one day during rush hour. Needless to say, the metro car was crowded.

“I sat down and saw an old man get on the metro. He sat across me on the other side — but suddenly, he was next to me on the empty seat. I noticed how he took up a lot of space. Suddenly, I felt something on my thigh, and I looked down to see his hand placed there,” Sheikh said.

“Initially, I was confused and tried to make sense out of what was happening. I told myself that this old man probably didn’t realize that his hand was on my thigh. But then his hand started creeping upwards, and his grip became tight. It was my first time in this kind of situation and I didn’t know what to do,” Sheikh said, furrowing her eyebrows and shrugging.

“So I decided to roughly move his hand off my thigh, but then he put his arm around me and smiled at me,” she said. “He smiled at me! His grip tightened, and I sat there debating what to do because I didn’t want to make a scene. So I got up to leave — but, as I left, he grabbed my bum. I went to the end of the car where one man who witnessed it all asked me if I was okay, and walked away once I nodded,” she said.

Less than one in ten individuals report incidents of sexual harassment and assault to the police, according to Statistics Canada. This shows survivors aren’t willing to come forward. One of the reasons for that is the stigma associated with this very serious issue. Questions arise: What was she wearing? Did she ‘lead’ him on?

It’s upsetting when the police don’t seem to be there when you need them the most.

It’s upsetting to not see a stronger police presence on our metro cars, and even more disturbing to see the STM security ticketing the innocent public instead of actually catching criminals.

You’d think that bystanders would reach out and try to acknowledge the situation, but most people just avoid eye contact and turn their heads.

It’s unfortunate that not everyone understands the severity and seriousness of sexual harassment, especially in a public place—you’re surrounded by people, but it’s rare that anyone tries to help. You’re just trying to get somewhere, and the last thing you want is an old man’s tight grip on your thigh and his creepy smile in your face. It’s upsetting and enraging and it certainly is a big deal.

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Editorial: Enough of this Harambe hysteria

This obsession with Harambe, the deceased gorilla, is getting completely out of hand. To be quite frank, people need to end this cultish fixation and move on with their lives.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the story, Harambe was a silverback gorilla at the Cincinnati Zoo. Last May, a four-year-old boy fell into Harambe’s enclosure, and zoo officials were forced to kill the gorilla in order to ensure the safety of the child, according to the CBC.

Following the gorilla’s death, the Internet reacted as social media users vented their anger and disbelief over the zoo’s decision to put the animal down. Harambe soon became a pop culture phenomenon on the Internet, with endless memes and references being posted daily.

This phenomenon has now reached a new height, with multiple universities hosting candlelight vigils in honor of the animal. The McGill vigil—which is not officially affiliated with the school—has over 2000 individuals listed as attending on the event’s Facebook page, including many students from Concordia.

The Concordian spoke with Saad Waseem—the organizer of the McGill vigil—who said he conceptualized the event after seeing other universities holding vigils. He also added, “this meme is just another taste of how much power and influence the Internet has.”

The organizers of the event are even selling merchandise, such as t-shirts, sweaters and hoodies. The profits from these sales are reportedly going to the Mountain Gorilla Conservation Fund according to the Facebook event.

But the worst thing here is that nobody seems to actually care about the dead gorilla. The event symbolizes an uninspiring craze, rather than an actual movement or legitimate vigil.

Those attending the event simply want to be a part of this current pop culture phenomenon—they are a part of the clueless flock of sheep being herded towards the cliff. In a year from now, nobody will even remember the ‘vigil’ or the dead gorilla.

Photo courtesy of Andy Bewer.

It would be more inspiring to see students rally together to put pressure on zoos to ensure the safety and wellbeing of animals kept in captivity. Or even denounce the cruel and demeaning concept of zoos, and accept that animals shouldn’t be kept simply for our entertainment.

It would be even more impressive if we used Harambe and his African heritage as a stepping-stone to discuss the issue of ivory trafficking on the African continent, or the fact that tens of thousands of elephants die every year as a result, according to the United Nations Environment Programme.

Instead of buying into this vapid pop culture garbage, let’s think critically for just one second and stray away from the madding crowd. If Harambe’s death only inspired mock vigils and cheap laughs on Instagram, then the gorilla certainly died in vain.

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Exploring Montreal’s doomed fashion scene

Why our beloved city is falling behind in terms of glamour and fashion

The last Montreal Fashion Week was in 2014, which is strange given that Montreal is generally considered one of the most fashionable cities in North America. Why?

“It’s time to rethink the format of the presentation of fashion,” said Chantal Durivage of Sensation Mode in an interview with The Montreal Gazette. She said the necessity of “showing clothing six months in advance of the selling season, as traditional fashion weeks do, is being questioned everywhere given the instant information on the web.” However, Montreal’s independent designers have not all necessarily caught up with today’s technological demands.

According to The Globe and Mail, independent retailers have failed to corner the online market, in a day and age where it can make or break your success as a business.

According to the same article, Pierre-Benoit Duham, the owner of Montreal luxury men’s boutique Clusier, said, “We’ve always had a web presence. It drives more traffic to the store.”

Other independent designers might benefit from following Dunham’s lead. Having an online presence would allow them to reach more young people, who are the future of fashion in Montreal. It would also allow them to reach an audience outside of the city, and hopefully re-establish Montreal as a fashionable city.

There are many stylish individuals in this metropolis, but those with a true sense of personal style are difficult to come by. It’s very hard to ignore the commercialization of the clothing industry, with chains like H&M, Aritzia and Forever 21 popping up around the world.

In my opinion, fashion should be personal. Your outfit should scream you, no matter who you are. It seems as though many people in Montreal, although well-dressed, follow a basic formula for the perfect minimalist outfit. This leaves everyone looking like a sporty chic army. I think that social media, and the rise of lifestyle bloggers are a few of the reasons.

Bloggers tend to fall under an umbrella of minimalist (think American Apparel) or “boho” (think Urban Outfitters, or Anthropologie) style. Since these bloggers are seen as inspirational, their fans tend to want to look like them— sometimes exactly like them— rather than just drawing inspiration and reinterpreting it to reflect their own style.

When popular bloggers post photos of their outfits, they usually list where each item was purchased. So now everyone who reads these blogs can run out to H&M, and buy the same dress or shirt.

It is up to us, as young people, to support independent designers financially, not only for the sake of each of our personal and unique style, but for the sake of Montreal’s fashion future.

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Iran’s dark history of imprisoning foreigners

Dr. Homa Hoodfar is not the first to be detained by the Revolutionary Guard

This article was originally written as a protest for the immediate release of Dr. Homa Hoodfar—an Iranian-Canadian professor of anthropology at Concordia—from Evin prison in Iran. However, as of Monday, Sept. 26, 2016, I am pleased to say that she has been released. Still, Professor Hoodfar’s ordeal can provide us with an opportunity to discuss Iran’s alarming trend of human rights abuses and socio-political oppression.

While visiting family and conducting research in Tehran, Dr. Hoodfar was detained by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard. Since June 6, 2016, Hoodfar had been held captive in Evin prison, just outside of Tehran. She had been charged with collaborating with a hostile government against national security, and with propaganda against the state.

As CBC News reports, Hoodfar’s family believed these charges to be trumped up. Which certainly was a reasonable assertion to make, given that Iranian state media accused Hoodfar of “dabbling in feminism.”

Alex Neve, the secretary general of Amnesty International Canada, states that these charges are a symptom of a weak and paranoid state. Neve believes Hoodfar was a prisoner of conscience—imprisoned for her beliefs—since Iranian authorities accused Hoodfar’s research of “disrupting public order” and “prompting social-cultural changes that can ultimately pave the ground … for a soft overthrow.”

I am inclined to agree with such claims, as Iran has a significant legacy of incarcerating people for perceived obscenities or political dissidence. Evin prison—which is nicknamed “Evin University,” due to the number of intellectuals held there—has a dark history of brutal treatment of prisoners. Another alumnus of Concordia and dual Canadian-Iranian citizen, Maziar Bahari, is likely one of the more recognizable victims of Iranian legal transgressions.

His 118-day imprisonment is recounted in the 2009 book Then They Came For Me, and in a film produced by Jon Stewart called Rosewater. Bahari was detained for reporting on the 2009 protests surrounding the Iranian presidential election. Like Hoodfar, Bahari too was accused of disrupting public order and working with foreign powers against the state.

Another prisoner of Evin is Soheil Babadi, who was charged with insulting the Prophet Mohammed, the Ayatollah, and subverting the state, and arrested in May 2012. According to iranhumanrights.org, Babadi was detained for posting satirical jokes on a Facebook page. While imprisoned, he was denied medical care for his kidney disease, which some agencies (such as Amnesty International) believe to be a tactic used by the Iranian state to coerce confessions from their detainees.

However, the detention of Zahra Kazemi, another Canadian-Iranian citizen, is a particularly important case in relation to Hoodfar’s imprisonment. Kazemi was photographing the protests of the 2003 election, and was detained after filming the families of arrested protesters outside of the infamous Evin prison. She was charged with espionage and smeared by state media as a spy. During her detention, Kazemi was tortured, raped and beaten, which led to her subsequent death on July 11, 2003.

All these prisoners of conscience point to a legacy of brutality that made Hoodfar’s plight all the more alarming and urgent. Just like Bahari, Hoodfar felt the sting of her intellectual endeavours. Similar to Babadi, Hoodfar has medical concerns — suffering from a neurological condition called myasthenia gravis, which causes severe muscle weakness.

Dr. Hoodfar arriving in Oman. Photo courtesy of Oman News Twitter.

More alarming still, is the risk to women under Iranian custody. As the brutal treatment of Zahra Kazemi proves, the risk to Professor Hoodfar was extremely realistic and present. In a male-dominated prison system, her health was at risk due to the taboo surrounding men examining women. There was also the realistic risk of sexual aggression as a form of coercion and terror. Amnesty International writes that Hoodfar’s arrest coincides with a trend of increased targeting of women associated with feminist movements, or groups advocating increased female representation in the government. This placed Hoodfar’s research directly under the gaze of Iranian intelligence.

More than 100 days had passed before Dr. Hoodfar’s release could be secured. How could this matter have been allowed to escalate for so long? This goes back to Stephen Harper’s government, which, in 2012, placed Iran on the list of state sponsors of terror, which subsequently severed diplomatic ties. I believe this action was a mistake, and needlessly put the lives of Canadian nationals abroad at risk in a misguided attempt to be “tough on terror.”

Former Canadian diplomat to Iran, Ken Taylor, tells CBC news it is important to have a presence on the ground. “If a country’s government won’t interact,” Taylor writes, “there’s still intelligence to gather.” I could not agree more. A diplomatic presence on the ground could allow us to know more about our nationals abroad in general, and Dr. Hoodfar in particular. If the purpose of diplomacy is to ensure the security of interests abroad, how can that be done with no dialogue?

A supporter at the demonstration for Dr. Hoodfar in Montreal, on September 21. Photo by Alex Hutchins.

The ordeal of Dr. Hoodfar and her family can serve as a cautionary tale against rash decisions in power politics. In a statement by Prime Minister Justin Trudeau credits Hoodfar’s release was wholly reliant on the Swiss, Italian, and Omani diplomats in Iran. In the face of diplomatic impotence, her release also signals the importance of grassroots activism. Kimberley Manning, principal of Concordia University’s Simone de Beauvoir Institute says that more than 5,000 academics signed a petition calling for Dr. Hoodfar’s release, including notable intellectuals like Noam Chomsky. While on September 14, 2016, Concordia students led a protest at Norman Bethune Square. Moreover, in a statement from Amnesty International Canada, more than 50,000 canadians signed a petition for Dr. Hoodfar’s release.

We must not forget the power we have as a collective. Injustice can be met with solidarity.

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