Tag: western

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Arts

Nomadland: A solemn tale of poverty in the United States

Chloé Zhao’s third feature film spans a year-long quest by a woman who has lost everything

The United States is broken. With affordable housing being unwaveringly difficult to find in cities like San Francisco and New York, some people have settled on leading nomadic lifestyles. Nomadland, the third feature film from Chinese-born director Chloé Zhao, is a heart wrenching tale of searching for home after one loses everything.

After the town of Empire, Nevada is shut down due to the closure of the U.S. Gypsum plant, Fern, played by the ever-astounding Frances McDormand, sets off to live in her van, effectively abandoning the notion of living a stable life in a quiet town.

Nomadland follows Fern for a full calendar year as she searches for various temporary jobs and shelters that will let her park her van for the night. The movie is plot-lite. There are no action sequences or moments that leave you wanting more. Zhao’s main goal here is to let the viewer examine and analyze the state of poverty in a country as rich and grand as the United States.

The American Dream will have you believe that it is easy to find a spouse and build a nuclear family as industrial jobs sprout left and right. In seconds, however, all of that can dissipate. Fern lost her job and her husband in such a short time that her life came crumbling down and forced her to recreate how she lives.

Fern’s year-long adventure isn’t as solemn as the plot describes, though it does come close. Her travels are tied together by several other nomads living in near-identical situations to Fern’s. Some of these people are played by tried-and-true actors like David Strathairn, who plays David, whose name is the sole characteristic shared between the actor and character. Other actors, however, are simply playing fictionalized versions of themselves like Swankie and Linda May.

It wouldn’t even be a stretch to call those playing themselves non-actors. They are simply people who lived their truths in a deeply personal fictional tale. Fern’s quest for a home turns less into a search for a place, but a search for people who make her feel like she’s at home.

Fern’s relationship with David is never romantic on-screen, but the quiet passion between the two lead us to believe that in another stable life, they could have found peace together. 

Nomadland never wallows in its sadness and morose themes, but instead acts as a 100-minute recapitulation of a woman whose life has been shattered into a million pieces, but can’t be put together like it used to be.

Chloé Zhao’s latest opus shares very similar styles to her 2017 western The Rider. Both tell the tales of midwestern/western people whose lives change in a sudden dramatic way. Each character has, in their brief moments, layers of depth that make them feel less like side pieces in Fern’s tale and more like real people who are just trying to make it.

Categories
Opinions

Western political discourse needs to evolve

Graphic by @spooky_soda

The debate surrounding the hijab should be seen as more than just conservative versus liberal

As the debate about the place of hijab rages in Western nations, Arab feminists and scholars are still rarely consulted or referenced when analyzing this important issue, especially in Western public spheres. As a highly political Arab in Canada, every single time I participate in a debate about the hijab, I feel that I’m sorted into one of the camps that dominate Western political discourse: liberal vs. conservative.

When I tirelessly try to convince the debaters that Arab intellectuals and feminists have dealt with the issue of the hijab from every standpoint possible, long before it started gaining momentum in the West, and that their intellectual endeavor was neither liberal nor conservative, the reaction I get is shock, and most commonly, disbelief.

The question is how can Western people believe that there are other theories, which can extend beyond the fruitless debate between “people should wear whatever they wish to” versus “the state and public spaces should be religion-neutral”? Meanwhile, the media is using these lines of thought to provide a Western framework for cultural translation of a non-Western issue.

Yes, I am writing this article because I refuse to be “Westernly” dichotomized, with all the preconceptions that are attached to each camp. The issue is deeper than this though, and it is very layered and nuanced. One can infer from this forced dichotomy that Arabic intellectuals are not sophisticated enough to empirically and scientifically analyze a social phenomena like this. Or, at least, analyze it to the level of complexity needed to relax the political anxiety that people in the West have. The focus on complexity is perhaps connected to the focus on academia as a source of intellectual authority in the West.

When I was able to get over the dispiriting part of this feeling of intellectual inferiority, I started looking for ways to further analyze this Western belief, and then professor and literary critic Edward Said came to my aid. His famous concept of Orientalism teaches us that Western colonialists planted the idea that the East is primitive and needs rescuing, but not in the traditional sense; they need to be rescued intellectually.

Therefore, Orientalism can explain why Western media rarely quote famous Arab feminists, such as Nawal El Saadawi, who adamantly argues against wearing the hijab and supports the French ban on religious garments. Nawal gives a nuanced and complex analysis of the idea of choice, and how religion, with all its pressures, can prevent Muslim women from taking an independent choice. Be it political, economic, spiritual, or even the societal and state pressures, which she faces on a daily basis in Egypt—she was imprisoned multiple times for being a radical feminist.

Nawal has been dubbed the Simone de Beauvoir of the Arabic/Islamic world due to the sheer amount of research and work that she has done on the topic of women’s rights. In spite of this, she among other Muslim/Arab feminists, will continue to be excluded at worst and marginalized at best from the Western political discourse. This will continue as long as the political climate and discourse does not go beyond the subtle Orientalist thought, which prevents Westerners from achieving a successful cultural translation. It is about time to start thinking outside the box of liberal vs. conservative. This is where change happens.

Graphic by @spooky_soda

Categories
Opinions

The division between the West and the rest

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin.

The media’s late response to the attack in Somalia highlights our sense of disconnect

When a truck bomb in Mogadishu, Somalia, detonated on a busy street on Oct. 14, it claimed more than 300 lives. It was the country’s deadliest attack in years, according to Al Jazeera. Despite this, there was a severe lack of response from Western media. It is a reaction I believe to be common when a deadly attack happens in a country far away from our own.

I consume a lot of news, and yet I didn’t hear about the attack in Somalia through mainstream news outlets until days later. Now compare the media coverage of the violence in Somalia with attacks in places like England, France or the United States. In the latter cases, Western mainstream media often talk or write about the topic for weeks, whether it’s to condemn the violence, commemorate the victims or investigate the root cause. Stories about the Las Vegas shooting, for example, are still being told by the news media almost a month later. Yet our extensive local coverage was not only because four Canadians were killed in the attack, but because it happened in the West.

News stories thrive on tragedies, but more importantly, on the connection the audience feels to those tragedies. It may seem unfair that attacks in the Western world get more coverage than similar events elsewhere, and it is somewhat. That being said, I don’t believe it is because the Western world values certain lives over others. I believe it is about feeling more sympathy for those we relate to more.

Unlike after the attack in Paris in November 2015, there was no Facebook campaign allowing you to make your profile picture filter the Somalian flag. To me, it seems simple why this did not happen. The Paris attack quickly became worldwide news, while Mogadishu did not. It’s a shame the Somalia attack didn’t receive the same attention on social media, but I don’t believe Facebook would devote their resources to a cause that isn’t considered major news in the Western world.

According to the Global Terrorism Database, the vast majority of terror attacks occur in the Middle East and North Africa. When war-torn or unstable countries like Somalia, Afghanistan and Iraq appear in the news, it is often through stories of casualties caused by war or terrorism. Since tragedy is all we hear about in these nations, we have become desensitized to the violence taking place there.

In comparison, the type of stories we hear and read about from countries like England, France and the United States are more varied and highlight our shared cultures. As such, hearing about major terror attacks in Western countries is like hearing about one here in Montreal—it feels like home.

Now don’t get me wrong: it isn’t a good thing that the Western world is like this. I do believe we should care for the well-being of people around the world. However, it is also not surprising that we tend to disregard regions that are plagued with harsh political climates. The bottom line is, when we believe violence is common place in particular countries, we are less likely to mourn when these attacks happen.

It hurts me to write this, but it is one of the ugly truths of our society. In the Western daily news cycle, there is no time for events that the audience shares no connection to. When the local connection to the story is lost, so is its ability to resonate with us. As unfortunate as this is, it’s what leads attacks in the Middle East and Africa to be depicted as minor stories.

It is a terrible shame that terror attacks claim the lives of people in those regions. It’s a shame that the lives claimed in future attacks will not receive much air time in the Western news media. However, that is simply the way the world works. We sympathize with people who we connect with.

At the moment, our connection with people in troubled regions of the world is severed. In order for this connection to be re-established, we need to understand that violence isn’t and shouldn’t be the norm anywhere in the world. Regardless of the fact that we are different as human beings, our compassion for one another must bring us together in dark times.

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin

Categories
Opinions

This is not a conflict, this is a genocide

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin.

Western media has the power to highlight the injustices in Myanmar—if they pay attention

My sister was the first to inform me about the ongoing genocide happening in Myanmar. She only found out about it through an Instagram post. This revelation left me in complete shock. The fact that this unforgivable violence has been going on for more than three years is astonishing. But most shocking is that it has barely received any coverage in Western media, until now.

According to Al Jazeera, the Rohingya people are a Muslim minority living in a state originally known as Burma. There are currently 1.1 million Rohingya people living in Myanmar, and they are considered one of the most persecuted groups in the world. The Rohingya make up five per cent of Myanmar’s 53 million citizens, and mostly live in the state of Rakhine, which is described as one of the poorest states in Myanmar, “with ghetto-like camps and a lack of basic services and opportunities,” according to the same source. In addition, the Rohingya have been denied citizenship since 1982, making them illegal residents and stateless.

The majority of the population in Myanmar is Buddhist. This is a religion that honours life and is dedicated to living humbly, while doing as little harm as possible. Yet according to The Guardian, Ashin Wirathu, a nationalist Burmese Buddhist monk and leader of the country’s anti-Muslim movement, is allegedly parading across Myanmar spewing hate messages and inspiring violence against Rohingya Muslims. Labeled the “Face of Buddhist Terror” by Time magazine, Wirathu claims he is only “warning” his people about Muslims, when he is truthfully inciting hatred against them, according to The Guardian.

The civilian leader of Myanmar is Aung San Suu Kyi. She actually has a Noble Peace Prize, and according to the Washington Post, she’s a “democracy icon.” Yet, Suu Kyi has been criticized for refusing to acknowledge the violence taking place in her country as an actual genocide. When asked in interviews about the violence, she often claims the media is “exaggerating” and refuses to criticize the country’s military, according to the Washington Post.

In my opinion, labeling violence as a genocide makes it more urgent, and it takes us back to the horrors of colonialism, the Indian Act, the Rwandan genocide and, of course, the Holocaust. Discussing any kind of ethnic cleansing as genocide makes it more real because it reminds us of history, and of how many people have been murdered for being different.

For a long time, the violence in Myanmar has been considered a conflict of ideologies, a religious dispute between Buddhist Nationalists and Rohingya Muslims, without being labeled a genocide. It also wasn’t being investigated by Western media for a long time—I suppose Western media overlooked the issue because we’re so concerned with social justice, healthcare, President Trump and climate change in our own nations.

I don’t really blame us—we’ve got our own problems to deal with. But it’s sad to realize that it wasn’t until the conversation shifted and some outlets, like Al Jazeera, started using the word genocide that we suddenly became all ears.

Human Rights Watch has released a report criticizing Suu Kyi for doing nothing about the excessive violence against Rohingya Muslims. According to the Telegraph, a recent military crackdown caused almost 90,000 Rohingya Muslims to flee to Bangladesh, where they are in desperate need of basic necessities. Not only are the Rohingya people unwanted in Myanmar, they are also unwanted in Bangladesh, according to TRT World.

In my opinion, this marginalized group needs a safe zone and international intervention. But this will not happen without global acknowledgement. On Sept. 16, Concordia alumnus Majed Jam, organised a demonstration protesting the treatment of the Rohingya Muslims. This was not only a way to protest the genocide, but a way to capture the attention of the world, or at least Montreal’s attention.

The Western world’s attention is an extremely powerful tool that can shed light on this ongoing violence, and it is our responsibility to make sure people pay attention.

Graphic by Zeze Le Lin

Categories
Student Life

My experience with name discrimination

Graphic by Thom Bell

Last year, my roommate invited me to go back home with her to Vermont for the weekend.

As a Canadian citizen, I did not expect any problems at the border. When we got there, the border patrol agent took our passports in order to identify us. The officer breezed through my roommate’s passport. He read her Western name aloud, calmly. With my passport in his hand, he paused. His demeanour changed.

It is important to note that, although I identify with the name Jenny, my legal name is Jihan.  Ironically, Jenny is not a nickname to appeal to western preferences. My mother and father had differing ideas of what they wanted to name me, so they compromised. One would be my legal name and one would be the name they would call me. Thus, although I have a traditional eastern name as well as a traditional western name, I did not choose either nor did I choose which one would I would identify with.

The agent looked at the name on my passport with what I can only describe as a hybrid look of disgust and frustration. Finally, he looked at me and asked, “What’s your name?” as if he would not even allow himself to say it aloud. Sheepishly, I replied “Jihan… sorry.” He gave me one last look of distaste and stamped my passport.

As we drove off, my roommate was incredulous.  She couldn’t believe how rude the agent had been, but she also couldn’t believe I had apologized.

Apologizing for my own name to that agent was the result of 21 years worth of microaggressions that I have had to silently endure as a minority raised in Canada.

That instance of discrimination was not the first, nor would it be the last. My name would go on to cause more unpleasant reactions from people attempting to pronounce it.

When I was younger, I hated when a substitute teacher would come to class because I knew what would happen during attendance. This stranger would do what every other stranger did to my name: they would stumble on it and proceed to get frustrated or embarrassed.

To be clear, I don’t believe the problem lies in the mispronunciation of my name or any other non-Western name. The problem occurs when my name is perceived as an inconvenience to those unfamiliar with it.

In my experience, this feeling of inconvenience usually leads to a feeling of aversion.

It is in every face that is scrunched up, not in confusion but in frustration. It is in every careless pronunciation of a name, butchered, with no apology. It is in every shortening or changing of a non-Western name to make it sound more Western. For example, some people legally change their names because it is a commonly accepted fact that it will be easier for minorities to get a job this way.

These are all microaggressions that may not be noticeable to those doing it, but the “othering” that occurs through them has real impacts on the self esteem and self identification of those receiving them.

It is through these types of microaggressions that we see larger, more overt results of discrimination and racial stereotyping such as categorizing typical African American names, and thus the people with those names, as “ghetto”, or traditional Arab names (and people) as “dangerous”.

Unfortunately, this demonstrates that discrimination can occur in far more insidious ways than we actively know about.

Graphic by Thom Bell

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