Capilano Courier | Vol. 53, Issue 6

VOLUME 53, ISSUE NO.6

FEBRUARY 2021 RACISM BUILT THE EDUCATION SYSTEM AND INSTITUTIONS DON’T CARE – CSU PLANS FOR BLACK HISTORY MONTH – WORST DATES – STOLBIE SISTERS – LOVE LETTERS – LOVE, IN INTERESTING TIMES – THE FUTURE OF HOGAN’S ALLEY – THERE IS MORE TO ROMANCE THAN MEETS THE EYE – MISTRUST OF VACCINATIONS – CYBERPUNK 2077 RELEASE GIVES LOCAL MAN HOPE HE CAN STILL BE LOVED DESPITE BEING DEEPLY BROKEN – I WON'T TELL YOU – HOROSCOPES – AND MORE

letter from the editor

White ness, Labels, and Letti ng Go ANA MARIA CAICEDO

Editor-In-Chief

Back in 2018, I got my ancestry composition results from 23 and Me after much convincing from my dad. I was a bit taken aback by the results—68.7 percent European and 26.1 percent Native American. This made sense, given that both my parents are Colombian. Many Colombians tend to be this mestizo mix of Spanish and Indigenous South American blood. Still, that 68.7 percent stood out to me. “I guess I’m white,” I joked to my dad.

My first encounter with feminism was in the early 2010s, scrolling through film photography on Tumblr from figures like Petra Collins and Sandy Kim. It was a period-blood-art-sporting, milky-white, hairy legs in sparkly heels kind of feminism—white feminism. Flawed as it was, at the time it was a relief for me, a teen girl trying to navigate an intensely patriarchal high school culture where rape at weekend parties was normalized and girls were reduced to their desirability—the whiter the prettier, it seemed. In my early 20s, my friend Monica introduced me to intersectional feminism, and it fit like a glove. Intersectional feminist theory allows us to understand the many ways that white supremacy and patriarchy work hand-in-hand to oppress. It was here that I encountered the term “woman of colour.” At the time, having the language to describe myself in this way felt exciting and empowering.

A few weeks ago I saw two posts on my feed that put my framework of identity, one that I’d been building for years, into question. The first was from a Black activist in Vancouver, calling for white people from non-European or North American countries to stop calling themselves “people of colour.” Another was from @gothshakira, a Canadian-Colombian social media figure, who posted about how white Latinas should not refer to themselves as women of colour.

The term “women of colour” emerged in the 1970s as a term of solidarity for minoritized women. It was a “solidarity definition” and “political designation,” as described by African-American academic and feminist Loretta Ross. “What’s happened in the 30 years since then is that people see it as biology now,” Ross said.

“And I think it’s a setback when we disintegrate as people of color around primitive ethnic claiming…the point is, when you choose to work with other people who are minoritized by oppression, you’ve lifted yourself out of that basic identity into another political being and another political space.”

A few months ago, my boyfriend said something that put me off. “I don’t see you as a brown woman,” he said. “You’re white to me.” I was angry when he said this at the time. Those words echoed in my head this past month, sounding less and less bizarre as I mulled things over.

Whiteness, a construct in itself, has always been permeable.

Italians, Greeks and Slavic immigrants were all, at one point, considered not white. Being part of an immigrant Colombian family has given me, I think, a unique perspective on things.

Some of my family members are brown, others are lighter like me, and some are very visibly white. My brother, cousins and I have grown up watching our parents be chewed up, dehumanized and damaged by white Canadian supremacy. These are wounds that most of our parents will continue to deny or minimize, probably because assimilating into whiteness under the premise of muddy Canadian multiculturalism feels safer than accepting the pain of being “othered” (not to mention that Colombia itself is a product of colonization, with white supremacist, colonial ideologies still very much present in its citizens).

I mention my family because I want to acknowledge how being othered by white supremacy in Canada is a complex thing.

Accents, darkness of skin, gender—all these intersecting factors have affected how they’re seen and treated here.

It’s always been hard for me to discern whether certain painful experiences I’ve had throughout my life were the result of patriarchy, white supremacy, or both. There have been quite a few times where men have exotified and sexualized me as soon as they find out I’m Latina. I was taunted frequently in elementary school for my peach-fuzz moustache, thick brows and hairy limbs. The most explicitly racist thing that’s happened to me was when a mentally-ill white woman started screaming at me at the Park Royal bus stop after I cleared my throat, insisting that I was purposefully coughing on her and shrieking that I “hate the whites.” Still, I can count the times when things felt explicitly racial on one hand.

At the time when I was introduced to the term “Woman of Colour,” I was befriending my now-best friends, who are all racialized.

They helped me understand the behemoth that is white supremacy.

And the more I understood it, the more revolted I was of it, and the further I wanted to be from it. I realize now that labelling myself as a woman of colour became a way to distance myself from whiteness, and the benefits I reap from it.

A key word in Ross’ definition of women of colour is ‘minoritized.’

Reflecting today, I realize that my racial appearance has never minoritized me in any significant way. I have never been denied a job because of it. My dating life has never suffered because of it.

I don’t experience racial microaggressions in my day-to-day. In calling myself a woman of colour, I detract from the experiences of women who are racialized. Instead of expressing solidarity, I express the opposite—a refusal to reckon with how close I am to whiteness.

Letting go of this label has been a challenging, uncomfortable and ongoing process. I think of how I’m less white-passing than some of my Latina counterparts are and I start to cling again. The sharp blows of white patriarchy still feel fresh. I look down at my olive skin. I think of colorism; I think of my black and brown friends, who face the violence of white supremacy daily. I let go a little more.

I think if you’re someone who has been othered in any kind of significant way, it can be hard to see and admit wrongdoing towards other people who are othered. There is this huge fear today in progressive circles—which has been amplified by social media— of being caught in the wrong. Shame dominates a lot of popular leftist rhetoric on social media, and I think that leads a lot of people to position themselves as perpetually “woke” (the term “woke” comes from the African-American Vernacular English expression “stay woke”, which refers to a continual awareness of racial and social justice issues). This is what I did. The problem with positioning yourself in this way is that it closes you up to understanding when you’ve fucked up and done wrong. It’s choosing pride over justice.

February is Black History Month. In all my years of interacting with intersectional feminism, I have never really engaged with Black History Month in any significant way. That’s shitty and embarrassing to admit here. But I want to be different this year, and all my years that follow. I’m really excited for you to read the Black History Month content in this issue, including our cover feature on Hogan’s Alley (p.31) and Feven Kidane’s piece on Black Shirt Day and racism in BC’s education system (p.10).

Black History Month is important for everyone. As Desmond Cole puts it, Black History Month is a celebration of Black Liberation.

I’ve realized that as a non-black person, if I want to work towards Black liberation, I have to stay actively engaged with the issues that Black people (in BC, Canada, and beyond) face, learn the history of Black liberation, amplify Black voices, and consistently resist anti-blackness in its many manifestations.

editor-in-chief

features editor

Managing Editor

Arts & Culture Editor

news editor

Opinions Editor

associate news editor

Literature & Humour Editor

art directors

Community Relations Manager

Staff Illustrator

Business Manager

Ana Maria Caicedo capcourier@gmail.com

Alisha Samnani manager.capcourier@gmail.com

Alisha Samnani news.capcourier@gmail.com

Bridget Stringer-Holden associatenews.capcourier@gmail.com

Emma Sato Sara Nguyen artdirector.capcourier@gmail.com

Valeriya Kim

Sarah Rose specialfeatures.capcourier@gmail.com

Claire Brnjac arts.capcourier@gmail.com

Megan Amato opinions.capcourier@gmail.com

Sarah Rose

Rain Brennan community.capcourier@gmail.com

Gaby Salas businessmanager.capcourier@gmail.com

Staff Writer Joss Arnott

CONTRIBUTING WRITERS

Andie Bjornsfelt, Cam Loeschmann, Charlotte Fertey, David Eusebio, Feven Kidane, Hassan Merali, Jayde Atchison, Mayumi Izumi, Nirosh Saravanan, Sarah Moon, Steph Bliss, Tamia Thompson, Tristin Greyeyes, Wen Zhai

CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATORS Amy Asin, Coralie Mayer, Ethan Woronko, Geraldine Yaris, Jaime Blankinship, Janelle Momotani, John Pachkowsky, JoWayne McFarlane, Joyce Chan, Karla Monterrosa, Mikaela Johnson, Naomi Evers, Sarah Haglund, Talia Rouck, Thea Pham

FEATURED ARTISTS

Ana Maria Caicedo, Ata Ojani, Gianmarco Iuele, Talia Rouck

Cover Art

Valeriya Kim

COLUMNIST PORTRAITS

Emma Sato

VOLUME 53 ISSUE NO.6

NEWS

OPINIONS

MOPA Introduces New Film

The Last Great American

Producing Concentration

6

Queerbait

35

Online Classrooms Continue to

There is More to Romance Than

Bring Long Hours and Stress for

Meets the Eye

36

Mistrust of Vaccinations

38

CapU Faculty

8

Racism Built The

The Trials and Tribulations of

Education System and

Online Sex Work

40

Institutions Don’t Care

10

Ignorance and Bliss in

CSU SAGM

13

Vancouver, BC

42

CSU Black History Month

14

Cautiously Optimistic

43

COLUMNS

ARTS & CULTURE Smash Therapy

17

Sexless in the City

46

Worst Dates

18

Virtual Reality

48

DIY: Painted Planter

20

Stories from the Long Walk

49

Stolbie Sisters

22

What's Brewing?

50

Love Letters

24

Overlook, BC

52

Post-Modern Connection

26

FEATURES

Cyberpunk 2077

Love, in Interesting Times

28

The Future of Hogan’s Alley

31

INTERESTED IN CONTRIBUTING? Email capcourier@gmail.com INTERESTED IN ILLUSTRATING? Submit your portfolio or samples of work to artdirector.capcourier@gmail.com

HUMOUR 54

LITERATURE I won't tell you

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Motion Picture Arts Program Introduces New Film Producing Concentration Concentration combines creative skills with business savvy to empower MOPA students DAVID EUSEBIO Contributor CORALIE MAYER Illustrator

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"Anyone who wants to make their own content needs to learn how to produce," stated Querée.

Starting in Fall 2021, Capilano University (CapU) students enrolled in the Bachelor of Motion Picture Arts (BMPA) program can pursue a concentration in producing for film. Claire Querée, an instructor in the Motion Picture Arts Program, explained that the concentration came to fruition as a result of growing demand from current BMPA students.

"There was already a pent-up demand from our current students for the producing concentration," said Querée. "My fellow instructor Patti Poskitt and I had been doing research on a producer concentration to start in 2021/22, but when we pitched it to administration, they accelerated the timeline so it could launch this year.”

“Producing requires an increasingly broad set skillset," said Querée, noting that the concentration will allow students to acquire and strengthen an array of skills to equip them for the film industry, from both creative and business aspects.

“The Producing concentration empowers students to specialize in film business affairs and producing, gaining in-demand skills that are needed in today’s rapidly evolving and growing motion picture industry … This development represents an exciting step forward for the BMPA program,” said Dean of the Faculty of Fine and Applied Arts Ted Gervan in a CapU press release.

“Filmmaking is as much a business as it is a salad bar of creative skilled persons—I believe the business fundamentals of product monetization, film business affairs and ethical producing practices are essential for all entertainment content creators,” said Poskitt. “I think the addition of the upper-level Producing Stream provides MOPA students the opportunity to choose the business aspects of filmmaking.”

The new concentration was designed in collaboration with the BC Branch of the Canadian Media Producers Association. Tracey Friesen, managing vice-president of the CMPA-BC, said in a recent press release that "[Canadian film producers] are keen to discover and nurture a diverse range of emerging producers in this province … it's encouraging to see Capilano University's film school develop to include a concentration of professional business related courses. This is exactly what our dynamic motion picture industry needs."

Gervan has expressed gratitude to the MOPA faculty who helped kickstart the concentration. He tweeted, “Huge thanks goes to Patti Poskitt, Claire [Querée], Michael Thoma, AIP [Academic Initiatives and Planning], and the CMPA for your input/support on CapU's new Producing Concentration in the Bachelor of Motion Picture Arts.”

"I hope our producing concentration students will be able to not just get their creative projects made, but also contribute to a sustainable and thriving industry," said Querée. Students can enroll in the new concentration starting in September 2021.

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ONLINE CLASSROOMS CONTINUE TO BRING LONG HOURS & STRESS FOR CAPU FACULTY Faculty claim that the switch to online learning has demanded an overhaul of classes that increases work hours and for some, leads to burnout BRIDGET STRINGER-HOLDEN Associate News Editor JOHN PACHKOWSKY Illustrator

Although Communication Studies instructor Kym Stewart is grateful for her job, working online has its challenges— like spending about triple the time on course delivery. Although this may not be a widespread issue among faculty, it’s important to highlight the struggles that faculty like Stewart and anthropology instructor Bob Muckle are experiencing.

Certain pre-planned group projects and resources are no longer available online.

“Definitely no field trips, which is really sad, because the field trips that instructors coordinate are to help connect the university students with the community,” said Stewart. “There’s ways around that, but it’s very different than going out into the community and connecting.”

Online delivery was also a major transition for Muckle. “My lectures and my classroom time was relatively

“Obviously, we have learning outcomes—everything needs to be addressed—but we’re really worried and concerned about the students and we want them to have this engaging time with us, because the world is so chaotic. There’s so much stress and so much going on,” said Kym Stewart. “I think a lot of us have become teachers because we enjoy being with young people who are thinking and engaging and full of life.”

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unstructured; I’d do a lot of storytelling, and I just sort of go with the flow and discuss current events,” he said. However, the CapU Library helped him access materials to ease the transition. “For me, because I didn’t use online technology at all, it was a major switch. My job now is substantially different than it used to be.”

Muckle’s workload has increased with the amount of structure required for online classes. “I estimate that I probably have been spending an average of 60 to 70 hours a week since April,” he said, up from the 35 hours per week prepandemic. “I was just barely staying ahead of the students. It was a lot of work to start from scratch—preparing lectures from scratch and finding videos and creating the assignments.”

Stewart notes that her weekends are now spent answering emails and marking.

“The students might not know all of the background that we have to do to get the courses launched,” she said, estimating 12-hour workdays. “There were so many times last term where I would just crash out on my [office] floor—I was just so exhausted, I was like I can’t function, and I would just be out for like an hour,” said Stewart. “I’ve never done that before in my life, yet it was so often last term—I just needed a way to get away.”

Like Muckle, many instructors are restructuring their classes to fit online learning. “We made major changes,” said Stewart. “I think everyone I spoke to has completely changed their course. It’s not just this pivoting, as I hear everywhere—I hear the university saying pivoting, I hear [the] media saying pivoting—it’s

not a pivot. A pivot to me is just a slight change; this is a complete overhaul of all the classes.”

When Muckle began teaching online in the summer, faculty support was not fully established. CapU now has optional workshops and courses for faculty, along with the Centre for Teaching Excellence. “I think I’m very lucky to be in a faculty that’s so supportive where we’re constantly helping one another and constantly in touch,” said Stewart, referencing their weekly check-ins. “I feel that the faculty has talked a lot about worrying for the students,” said Stewart.

“I’m worrying and concerned for the students all the time.”

In March, Stewart’s worries centred around whether students had food, housing, and personal protective equipment. In 2021, she is focused on their mental health. “I think that’s been taking a lot of our time and energy— trying to figure out how to connect with students, trying to figure out if students are okay—but definitely for me, it’s emotional burnout,” said Stewart. “I’ve heard many faculty members say ‘I’m feeling burnt out’—including some faculty members that I’ve never ever heard speak those words.”

Muckle believes this workload is neither healthy nor sustainable long-term. “I haven’t burnt out, but I’m on the way to

it,” he said. “I would imagine that a lot of instructors have burned out. We put in all these extra hours because we want to give the students the best experience [we] can.”

As much as faculty care about students, Stewart said it should go both ways.

“We as instructors exist the way we exist because of the students and because we can see and hear and feel that energy— as soon as we lose that, it just becomes about this content. We don’t want it to just be about content delivery, we want that connection. We’re doing whatever we can to find that connection.”

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Racism Built The Education System and Institutions Don’t Care A chat with two Black locals FEVEN KIDANE Contributor JOWAYNE MCFARLANE Illustrator

“People always have something to say when Black people stand up for themselves,” said Kamika Williams, co-founder of Anti-Racism Coalition (ARC) Vancouver.

At the time of this interview, ARC Vancouver was in the midst of planning the first-ever Black Shirt Day, in which black shirts are worn to acknowledge the inequity Black Canadians (and beyond) face. The date of such awareness was Jan. 15, the birthday of Civil Rights Movement activist Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., a hero for many Black individuals, including Williams.

An idea thought of with anti-racism in mind, ARC Vancouver had been in consultation with individuals across the country to execute a plan inspired by Orange Shirt and Pink Shirt Day. To accompany the permanence of Black Shirt Day will be formal education in Black history as planned by Black educators gathered

by ARC Vancouver, coming in 2022. “The most important thing about Black Shirt Day is getting mandatory curriculum in BC schools,” explained Williams. “If Black Shirt Day is mandatory in schools, then the education behind it is mandatory as well.”

Picking a day the world would recognize, Williams felt Dr. King Jr’s birthday was the perfectly-timed choice, especially since it was two weeks before the start of Black History Month in February.

With the concept of teaching at the forefront, she knew that the bridge into the weeks to come would feel natural. “It’s just a great way to start that conversation and keep it going and open the door to have a more robust mandatory curriculum,” she stated.

Similar to many other Black folks raised in Western Canada, Williams was one of few Black-presenting children in elementary and high school in her hometown of Victoria, BC. During those years, she was bullied for her race and singled out by peers—

not even teachers treated her as equal to her classmates. “I was adultified more than the white girls. I always got in trouble for saying stuff that they said,” she recalled. “I’ve always known from a young age I should be proud to be Black, [but] we are treated differently.”

Williams remembers only one Black teacher throughout those thirteen years of school, something she believes needs to drastically change if there is ever to be actual movement in the fight for racial justice. “[When] you’re experiencing racism, it’s hard to feel safe when the teacher looks like the people who are treating you badly,” she went on to say. To her, the classroom is not a place of acceptance, as it was never meant for the inclusion of people intentionally pushed to the side. Even if the school appears to be inclusive, the systematic oppression and omission of equitable life and class lessons runs through the veins of education in trickle-down fashion. “Everybody who has [run] these institutions for hundreds of years have never really looked like us,” Williams stated. “I don’t think these schools were built with BIPOC people in mind.”

Jamal Foster, a third-year Jazz student at CapU, heard about Black Shirt Day and reflected on the initiative. “I feel it would’ve helped me discover and understand myself on a much deeper level had I been introduced to what I am early,” he noted. “I think a lot of other kids could’ve as well.” Also, growing up Black-presenting, finding the box to fit in comfortably was a challenge. There were times his learning environment only welcomed the white side of his lineage, not his Black side, leading to him being othered.

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R ACISM BUIL D THE EDUCATION SYS T EM AND INS TIT U TIONS DON'T CA RE

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As he’s grown, the public’s reaction to his skin tone has not changed. When asked how he’d noticed racism towards him as he’s gotten older, he mentioned his ability to recognize it better now compared to in childhood. The identification of racism doesn’t come from flashbacks, but current acts of racism and microaggressions he still experiences. “I faced similar issues then as I do now,” he began, “I would get pulled over by the cops frequently. I'd have people look at me weird cause I don't look like them, especially working in a place like Kerrisdale which is predominantly white, [and] on the older, richer, more privileged level.” The only thing he has been able to do in such situations is wait it out; these harmful actions are, according to him, just part of life as a Black person in a white-dominant area.

It is no secret that the student body hardly has anyone Black, something Foster believes is related to the University’s failure to actively diversify its practice. “We’re not really that big in support of Black culture and Black history,” he said. “I don’t think [CapU is] necessarily a school that’s that appealing to Black students.”

When it came to his post-secondary experience, Foster felt isolated.

In his eyes, campus exposure to Blackness has been limited due to the University’s disinterest in prioritizing it, a microaggression in itself. “I think that one of the things I definitely notice about our university is the lack of Black celebration,” he shared.

“We have nothing outside of the jazz program as a whole that is Black culture related.” The only instance of Black Joy that Foster has seen in his three years attending CapU was last year’s Black History Month Cabaret, planned by the Capilano Students’ Union, which saw Black students meeting each other for the first time.

In Foster’s eyes, this statement was problematically barren, promising nothing. “[People] in the position of power have the ability to do something big, and yet here [they are], not doing anything at all,” he commented. “What exactly has [been] done to show proper support other than a single paragraph email?”

Foster expressed disappointment at a one-paragraph message written by CapU President Paul Dangerfield, posted last June. He considered it a missed opportunity to acknowledge systemic racism within the school and roll out a plan to fix it.

Entitled “Times of Tumult and Tragedy”, the primary focus of the message was the institution’s distaste towards the violently racist American atmosphere.

“We’re adults, and we still need to learn [anti-racism].”

CSU Semi-Annual General Meeting to be Held February 25 2021-22 budget amongst agenda items BRIDGET STRINGER-HOLDEN Associate News Editor SARAH HAGLUND Illustrator

“The CSU is the students’ union for all students at Capilano University, and we basically try to elevate the post-secondary experience through advocacy, through service delivery, and leadership opportunities for our members,” said Emily Bridge, Capilano Students’ Union (CSU) President.

The CSU Semi-Annual General Meeting (SAGM) will be held over Zoom on Feb. 25 at 11:30 am. The Societies Act requires one annual general meeting per year, which is held in the fall, while the CSU bylaws require an additional general meeting that is held during the spring semester. A minimum of 75 students must be present to represent CapU students and allow the meeting to proceed properly. Students can register to attend at csu.bc.ca/ sagm, and advanced registration is recommended so that the CSU can ensure quorum throughout the meeting.

“General meetings are the highest governing body of the Capilano Students’ Union, which maybe doesn’t sound that exciting to many people,” said Bridge. “[They’re] one of the few opportunities where any student is able to vote.” While students are welcome to attend board and committee meetings, they are only given speaking rights.

The CSU will present their 2021-22 draft budget at the SAGM, showing students where their money is going. Any bylaw amendments will be added to the meeting agenda in advance, ensuring that attendees have time to review them. Although Bridge finds it difficult to engage with students online without chilli and garlic bread, attendees have the chance to win prizes—a set of Apple Airpods or one of thirty $25 DoorDash gift cards.

“But it’s definitely not the same. I think it’s been hard for everybody not to be able to really connect with all of our members and students the way we normally would, but we’re definitely trying to make the best of it, and I will say, just a shoutout to our organization, especially our staff team.”

“The history of student advocacy is really about student rights and student government,” said Bridge, explaining that student organizing has been the driving force that made the postsecondary experience what it is today. “What’s different between what we do and what the university does, is we are elected student leaders, and we are here providing services, advocacy and leadership opportunities for students—we’re completely separate from the university.”

Bridge believes that continued advocacy to politicians about student issues is important. “We ask for more money for different programs, for grants, for support for mental health, and we talk to the university administration. We ask them to put money behind anti-racism initiatives and we ask them to put money behind indigenization and decolonization at the university,” said Bridge. “The work that student unions generally do can be sort of underrecognized, I think, but they actually do a lot of things that I think as students we can take for granted.”

There is an upcoming general election for the Board of Directors for students wishing to engage with the CSU. The nomination period opens Feb. 22. “It’s a really great opportunity if you’re interested in running in the election,” said Bridge, describing the CSU as “a group of students with their own staff team, who are really passionate about making the post-secondary experience better for everybody.“ Although there will be information sessions about the election, Bridge recommends attending the SAGM to get a general sense of the different board positions and what the CSU does.

“The university experience without a student union—without student government—would be different,” said Bridge.

“There wouldn’t be an organized place for you to voice your concerns and to be heard and I think support for students would look a lot different.”

Students can register for the SAGM at csu.bc.ca/sagm. For those wishing to get involved in the CSU, the volunteer portal is available on the CSU website. Questions can be directed to info@csu.bc.ca, or through social media channels with their handle (@capstudentunion), such as their Instagram or Facebook.

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Inside the CSU’s Plans for Black History Month Programming prioritizes knowledge-sharing and community-building among Black folks ANA MARIA CAICEDO Editor-in-Chief TALIA ROUCK Illustrator

The switch to online learning may have gutted campus life, but that hasn’t slowed Feven Kidane, Students of Colour Liaison at the Capilano Students’ Union (CSU).

In collaboration with CSU Director of Advocacy Lori Kosciuw, Kidane has planned a host of events and activities to celebrate Black History Month this year.

A first-generation child of Ethiopian immigrants, Kidane has arranged an Ethiopian cooking workshop via Zoom, available to all Capilano University students. The workshop will cover how to make Injera, a fermented flatbread made out of teff flour that is a staple in Ethiopian and Eritrean cuisines. “Aside from the fact that I think that all black folks should know a piece of Africa, whether or not they’ve been there, it’s a really beautiful African bonding activity,” commented Kidane.

“Food is really highly held in our culture—and even in Black American [and] Black Canadian culture, food is a sign of community, and that’s something that we don’t really have being so spread apart from each other and forcibly kept that way,” they reflected. “We aren’t tethered like we should be, and food is one way to bring us all together—even if it’s just on the internet.” ­14

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Also planned is a Black-folks-only hair workshop taught by Kidane’s friend and former hairstylist, Mimi Zaghloul.

“Our hair is so cultural—the origin of cornrows is that the designs were supposed to be maps to escape the plantation. So it’s very much deeply embedded in our DNA that hair is esteemed,” Kidane said. “It’s our crown, and the entire world except for Africa really doesn’t seem to grasp the importance of this literal growing thing out of your head and how beautiful and majestic it is.”

The workshop will be delivered as an asynchronous video for Black folks to watch at their convenience.

“Our populations are so sparse here— if you’re not in Vancouver, you’re not gonna find a Black hairstylist ever—and there’s hardly any here anyway. So it’s crucial that we learn how to keep our identity in this world of whiteness because we’re not gonna get it anywhere else unless we go back home,” Kidane asserted.

“I’m 23, and I still don’t really know how to do my hair,” they shared. “Everybody else can like, go get a haircut, they can wear gel, they can get like the little ponytails or whatever—but ours is big, and it’s thick, and it’s curly, and it comes in so many

types, dimensions, densities,” she mused.

“We have the most versatile hair on the planet, and we’ve been robbed of the opportunity to learn how to sculpt it to our personalities. So, it’s about time we learned.”

In addition to the two workshops, Kidane is planning a livestream with Grammynominated singer Jazzmeia Horn, movie viewings, and posting BlueShore Financial Centre for the Performing Arts’ interviews with renowned vocalist Dee Daniels and soul artist Dawn Pemberton. Kidane and the CSU have also purchased tickets to Strategem—a conference of virtual talks and workshops on Black queer identity hosted by activist and author Cicely Belle Blain—that are available for free to all Black students attending Capilano University. To claim a ticket, Black students can message the CSU’s Instagram page at @capstudentunion.

To view the CSU’s programming for Black History Month, visit their website at https://csu.bc.ca/BlackHistoryMonth.

Tal i a Ro u ck

@talrouck F E AT URED A R T

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G i a n m a r c o Lu e l e

@giannimarx ­16

F E AT URED A R T

: R E M M A H E G D E SL SMASH THERAPY IN VANCOUVER Smashing feels good in the moment, but does it feel like it's helping in the long run?

CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editorr MIKAELA JOHNSON Illustrator

“Think of your ex-boyfriend,” I yelled to my friend as she palmed the 15-pound sledgehammer. Her target was a glass bottle, propped up on three tires. In front of us were thousands upon thousands of glass shards, electronic parts, and assorted pieces of smashed photo frames—it all took up three-quarters of the room we were standing in.

My friend, usually a pacifist, looked uncomfortable. She swung with great uncertainty, and I cheered as the sharp remains of the bottle hit the back of the room with a thunk.

Smash Therapy, an unassuming squat building near the Richmond Hospital, is dedicated to the complete obliteration of objects.

Offering options such as “Bring Your Own Stuff,” where you bring in smashable items of your own devising and smash them to pieces for a low price, or Couples Therapy, a 30-minute session where you smash 25 glass bottles with your choice of a sledgehammer, three different weights of crowbars, or an aluminum bat with a friend.

As you suit up in a protective mask with a plastic face cover and thick gloves, you are advised to swing toward the wreckage that dominates the majority of the room. The walls and ceiling—spraypainted plywood and mesh netting, respectively—and the dubstep in the background all set the mood adequately;this is a place to get your anger out in a safe way, in full view of your friends or coworkers.

There's something undeniably freeing about swinging a crowbar into something—it satisfies an urge that breaking a window or keying a car might feel like.

My friend and I swing until our thirty minutes are up. I felt largely the same, if unburdened from a few of my more violent urges. In these COVID-19 times, I understand the need to feel like in your control, and swinging a 15-pound sledgehammer into a group of bottles makes you feel like you have some degree of agency over your life.

Smash Therapy is one of the many “anger rooms” popping up in North America, dedicated to the total annihilation of smashable things to relieve some stress.

Bring six friends to Smash Therapy and see if it helps the malaise any.

Beating a tire with an aluminum bat made me feel like I was a villain in a Marvel movie, kicking ass with my friend, and sometimes, that’s all you need.

“Anger rooms,” showcased in movies like Netflix Original Dash and Lily, exist on the supposed urge to destroy. Another “anger room” in Vancouver, E-EXIT, boasts that, “[it] is sure to relieve some stress and put a smile on your face.”

Smash Therapy is open seven days a week. Prices start from $35 per person for a 30-minute session. Due to provincial health standards, it’s not recommended to travel outside your health area until the lockdown ends.

Find out more at smashtherapy.ca

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JOYCE CHAN Illustrator

Worst Dates

The over Explainer SARAH ROSE Features Editor

A woman’s early 20’s is a fragile period. Fresh into adulthood, we’re already at the peak of the attraction curve for heterosexual men of all ages while under immense existential pressure to make major decisions about life. As William Gibson eloquently illustrates in Pattern Recognition, how do we plan for a future when the future is already over?

Wrestling with generational traumas and unable to reason meaningfully about a stolen future, the early adulthood of women is marked by leaning into a culture of eternal youth—or making a Tinder profile. At least that’s what seemed reasonable to me after coming out of a traumatic breakup. At the tender age of 22, I’d signed up for OKCupid under the impression that the algorithmic love promised by the platform couldn’t be that bad, or at least not somehow worse.

Within two weeks I’d made the “hottest users” list, which vaguely translates to a symphony in my inbox of 40-year-old men asking for threesomes and messages of “Hey, do you like drum and bass? Let me lick your feet.”

At some point, I swiped right on some attractive pilot, a real Maverick in Top Gun type, who described himself as an avid reader. We agreed to meet up for a pint at my favourite haunt, The Wise Hall, and sitting across from the bar I genuinely felt excited, until he opened his mouth. ­1 8

Our editors band together to reminisce about failed courtships, soiled jackets, and how many times Fight Club can be mentioned in one night

“Do you like Fight Club?”

“Sure,” I replied. Most people have encountered something by Chuck Palahniuk before. Like a friend of mine who encountered a water bottle from Palahniuk thrown at his head at a book signing, followed by ‘now you have a story about meeting Chuck Palahniuk.’ Which I should’ve taken as a sign that bringing up Fight Club on a first date is shorthand for a very particular type of guy. Afterall, the first rule of Fight Club is don’t admit to liking Fight Club.

To be fair, Fight Club grapples with the same early 20’s dilemma of empty futures, but it resolves it through toxic anger and violence. It’s the kind of story that belongs to the guys who enjoy “debating me” in class, and that’s exactly what my date decided to do—launch into a two-hour debate over whether the ending of the movie captured the essence of the book. “No, like, you just don’t get it!” he went on.

A friend of mine from across the bar felt so bad for me taking center stage in this horror movie that when my date excused himself for the bathroom, he threw me over his shoulder like an Irishman smuggling out a sack of potatoes in the 17th Century. A few hours later, I’d get a text from Fight Club man, “I assume there won’t be a second date.”

Sometimes, making decisions about the future is abundantly easy.

Numb to the Idea of Love The Soiled Jacket ANA MARIA CAICEDO Editor-In-Chief

It was my second date with this boy from Tinder. He seemed pretty perfect—he was artsy, sweet, and our politics aligned. A slight lack of chemistry maybe, but nothing a few more dates wouldn’t smooth out, I thought. I bussed from my house in West Vancouver to meet him at a coffee shop downtown. From there, we walked to Crab Park, where he got out a government-manufactured joint. This weed, dude—yikes. It was strong, and awful and it lit my blood on fire. I tried to be cute, but I was sweaty underneath my winter layers, and my hair had soaked up the ashy odour of the joint. I felt gross and very ripped.

Mid-conversation, he leaned in, about to put his arm around me, when suddenly he froze.

“Did-did you notice that before?” he said, pointing to my arm. I followed his finger until I saw it: shit. Shit smeared on the sleeve of my virgin wool Aritzia Cocoon Coat, from my wrist to my elbow.

Diarrheic, red-green shit. I had no idea where it came from or how it got there, but there it was. My date was more mortified than I was.

I stripped my coat off, ran to the ocean and proceeded to rub the sleeve with rocks and water, which, to his horror, just kind of spread the poop around. I offered to go to a bathroom somewhere and try to wash it off, but he wasn’t too keen on that. It was freezing, and I needed a coat, and even though he offered me his, I knew this poop on my sleeve was just too big of an obstacle for either of us to overcome. On the way home, I dropped my coat off at the dry cleaners, and texted my horror story to the guy who would eventually become my boyfriend.

MEGAN AMATO Opinions Editor

It was Valentine’s Day and I was in a mini dress, a flimsy jacket and thin boots—shivering in the parking lot as the frigid February wind howled around me. I had spent countless hours grooming and preparing myself for the anxiety-ridden four-hour Greyhound bus south to meet my online boyfriend. Despite the pervasive anxiety, excitement lingered. A previous relationship and an unstable home had left my self-esteem and self-worth in tatters. Meeting my boyfriend for the first time brought hope and possibility as I waited in the snow.

However, as evening fell into night, my skin began to hurt to the touch, my toes numbed to the point where it hurt to stand, and fear exacerbated—I’ve always been scared of the dark. I had caught the last bus out and now I was alone, freezing, and trapped in a place where I knew no one. This was some years ago, before smartphones but during the early stages of Facebook, and I had given my boyfriend my number but had failed to ask for his. After several hours of anxiety, numb legs, and feet that hurt to walk on, I shuffled in the direction of golden arches I had seen on my way in.

Once I made it into the warmth, I cried, and the concerned staff came to comfort me. I can’t remember how it happened, but somehow they helped me get a hold of his father, who got a hold of his mother, who came to pick me up. She was unimpressed by the stupid girl dressed inappropriately for an Ontario winter, but she was kind. She was less thrilled with her son, who had forgotten about his dater on Valentine’s Day. I would like to say that was the end of that relationship before it began, but poor self-esteem equals poor decision making. I can tell you, however, that the mother who came to pick up her son’s date danced at my wedding with my now-husband.

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Do It Yourself: Painted Planter Dress up your plants in something prettier than plastic ANA MARIA CAICEDO Editor-in-Chief

The pandemic made me a plant person. During the summer months of quarantine solitude, I acquired plant after plant, hoping to fill the void (until I got a cat). When my roommate Val left for Mexico, she left behind her succulent in the beautiful planter she had hand-painted. Wanting my plants to be outfitted in something prettier than a plastic pot, I asked Val how she did it and decided to give it a go.

Aside from photography, I’ve never been particularly good at any kind of visual art. After painting a few of these, I can honestly say anyone can create something cute with little to no artistic skills.

There’s something so therapeutic about painting these. Mixing the creamy paints, soaking in the vibrancy of the colours, getting lost in the routine of it and the occasional need for precision—painting these planters put my mind at ease.

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Step 1: Gather Your Materials You will need: One unglazed/uncoated ceramic pot (should feel matte to the touch)

The pot mustn’t have a shiny finish on it, as this will make it difficult to paint to dry/soak in unless you apply a proper primer underneath. If you want to plant directly in your planter, it’s important to get a pot that has one or more drainage holes—the more, the better. If your pot doesn’t have drainage holes, you can drill some in or use a smaller planter with drainage holes and place that planter in your pot (this is what I did). Any terra cotta or unglazed pot will work—you can find them at Rona, Home Depot, the Dollar Store, and online.

Acrylic paint—any acrylic paint will do, even the ones from the dollar store.

A light pencil or pencil crayon Brushes Depending on your design, you may need a few brushes with different shapes and sizes (for sharper lines, to get in little corners, etc.)

A jar of water to soak and clean your brushes in between colours A rag Clear acrylic spray (I used Rust-Oleum Painter’s Touch Paint & Primer in Satin Clear)

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Step 2: Time to Design The sky's the limit! When you’re figuring out what you want to paint, I suggest using a light-coloured pencil crayon or a pencil to trace your design beforehand. This will make it much easier to paint precisely.

Right now, I’m obsessed with checkers, so I measured the width of the top side of this pot and divided it into four. Using a ruler, I marked each interval with my pencil, then traced each line to end up with five evenly spaced rows. I repeated this on the left side of the pot, and the result was an evenly-spaced checker grid.

Step 3: Paint Your Heart Out This is my favourite part. You can mix different paint to get just the right colour. Use a bigger brush to fill up space quicker and a smaller brush for details and edges. Depending on what you’re painting, you might prefer a round brush, flat brush, angular brush—the list goes on. If you’re planning on placing your plant directly in the planter, DO NOT paint the inside of the pot—paint is toxic to plants.

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Step 4: Spray Away Spray the pot with a clear, water-based acrylic spray. This will help seal the paint and protect it from scratches. I flipped the pot upside down while I was doing this so no paint would get on the inside.

While the spray will make the planter water-resistant, it won’t make it waterproof, so don’t put it outside or somewhere where it’ll come into contact with lots of water.

Step 5: Put Your Plant Baby in its New Home You’re all finished! As I’ve mentioned before, if your pot has no drainage holes in it or if you painted the inside of it, make sure you’re not placing the plant directly in the planter, but rather place it in a container with drainage holes and then put that container in the planter.

To switch colours, clean your brush in the water and wipe it dry with the rag. Make sure you’re not dipping a wet brush into your paint. If you’re painting for a while, some paint may dry on your brush and get tacky, leaving residue as you paint. At this point, you can clean your brush in the sink with some soap and water.

Do two or three coats, depending on how your pot is responding to the paint. If you make a mistake, don’t stress—with acrylic paint, it’s relatively easy to paint over an existing colour once it’s dry, it might just take a few more coats than usual. I usually try to clean up at the end with a little brush.

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THE WITCHES OF GRASSTOWN How Tamu and Zia Stolbie are trailblazing in the field of weed education CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editor

While Vancouver has a reputation of being stoner-friendly— especially since cannabis was legalized across Canada in 2018—the basics of it might be confusing to newbies.

The Calgary native Stolbie sisters moved to Vancouver in 2009 and have dedicated over a decade to creating innovative business development in their fields of advertising, advising and awareness.

The Stolbie’s bread and butter, and the reason behind their titular nickname “Witches of Grasstown,” is their focus on education around the business, consumption and benefits of cannabis. “Cannabis Consulting” is focused on educating the public on the benefits of plant-based medicine, as well as sharing how it has affected their lives for the better.

The ‘a-ha’ moment behind the inception of Cannabis Consulting came when a friend of Tamu Stolbie’s, her partner in, “The Coven Club,” went onto Craig Ex’s cannabis-themed talk show “Expert Joints Live!” to discuss equality, diversity, and the legalization of marijuana in Canada. Zia Stolbie says this experience re-ignited her interest in cannabis as an educator, “I saw a great opportunity for us to help pave the way… in the domains that our skill sets, expertise and interests already laid, with regards to media & production, marketing, content creation, events, [and] business development.”

This came at a very opportune moment. The Stolbie sisters had experience from creating the GG Media Lab, a creative/talent agency,

in 2018 and were willing to put their experience to use for a good cause. As they are trying to facilitate change in the cannabis industry, they are focusing on the future. “We are always working towards more equality and diversity in the entrepreneurial landscape. [They want to] provide more clarity, educated understanding, and resources for the public, the canna-curious, and those looking to begin their journey with cannabis and plant medicines,” says Zia. They’re planning on facilitating this change in cannabis education through social media. The sisters have already done two web series with Vancouver-based newspaper Daily Hive; one called Smart Stoner, where they go into the basics around marijuana and decode the mystery behind the drug for newbies, and Cannadished, where they show how to make excellent cannabis-based meals and snacks.

My final question was asking on how they did it all, considering it’s in the middle of a pandemic and they have many other ventures under their belt. “We usually break out [of] our schedule during the day with a healthy mix of taking meetings/calls, content creation, having snacks, and trying to get outdoors in some capacity,” they tell me “Balance is key!”

Check out the Stolbie Sisters at @stolbiesisters on Instagram, or at their website stolbiesisters.com

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Love letters: a romantic’s dream or a nightmare for someone with bad penmanship. Our contributors have dedicated a short letter documenting a love of their life, human or not.

AMY ASIN Illustrator MAYUMI IZUMI Contributor CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editor WEN ZHAI Contributor

Bon Iver's "For Emma, Forever Ago"

ANDIE BJORNSFELT Contributor

Jericho Beach MAYUMI IZUMI Contributor

This Valentine’s Day, I choose Jericho Beach to be mine. Some of you may scoff at me, but Jericho Beach has never let me down—always beautiful, available when I want to see it and fun to be around—unlike some boyfriends I’ve had over the years.

I was born and raised in Vancouver and have visited my favourite beach since I was a chubby little girl in pigtails. During my childhood, my family, friends, and I had many picnics, sandcastle building sessions, and walks on the sand when the tide was out. It felt like we could walk for miles, admiring the snow-capped mountains, while watching baby crabs scatter as we left our little footprints.

Oh Jericho, how I love you so. Whenever I think of you, all that comes to mind is sweet nostalgia: wonderful memories, oceanside photos, sunfilled days getting tanned, frolicking and splashing in your waves.

Later in my adult years, I fell in love with a tall, dark and handsome Taurus and had some naughty moments in his Chevy Malibu overlooking the Vancouver skyline and your beautiful landscape. Yet it’s your love that I cherish more than anything.

Jericho, if you were mine, I could finally rest assured that all my wishes came true. No longer lonely or blue from memories of broken promises from ex-lovers. I’m happy that I no longer have to listen to their poor excuses for why they were late and couldn’t make our date and why they didn’t have the decency to text or call to cancel.

Seething with anger, disappointed to the point of tears, they didn’t deserve me or my love. But I have you, J, and for that, I am grateful. ­2 4

CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editor

When I was eleven, I was peer pressured into leaving my Jonas Brothers phase by my friends because it wasn’t “cool” and I was completely bereft.

Having also realized that my attraction to men might be not as real as I imagined, I went through an awakening many tweens do—I can listen to sad music and stare up at the ceiling for hours on end to feel better.

Enter Bon Iver. I first found his music when I went looking for a playlist to listen to during my bouts of ennui. This was in the time of 8tracks, a playlist service where people could make and send their own playlists to their friends. There was one playlist, helpfully titled Winter Blues and captioned with “for when nothing feels okay.” Perfect.

For Emma had just been released a few months earlier. I, being eleven and not in the music industry, hadn’t heard anything about it, so I didn’t recognize it when it came up. There were a few classics on the playlist; “Creep” by Radiohead and “Lua” by Bright Eyes were two of the main players. But when the song, “The Wolves (Act 1 and 2)”, came up, it held my attention for the longest. It was a slow song with acoustic guitars and a haunting refrain. To a sad eleven year old, it was catnip.

Thus began my obsession. I bought the CD just so I could listen to it in my Walkman on my way to school. It went well with every weather change; just as suited to a rainy day as a sunny one, and it hit every sad, melancholic mood I had perfectly. I might sound like a hipster now— my eleven-year-old self would have adored the comparison—but I felt like I had discovered something that spoke directly to me in a way other songs never could.

Years later, it is the album from my tween period that I haven’t gotten sick of yet. For Emma has remained by my side through breakups, graduations, realizations, failures, and rainy days. While I don’t depend on it like I did back then, there will always be a part of me that quiets at the sound of “Holocene” playing, like I am finally coming in from the cold.

Prozac ANDIE BJORNSFELT Contributor

When I was thirteen I desperately needed you, Prozac. I gulped you down without a thought—ten milligrams in a mini paper cup, tipped into my mouth and washed down with ginger ale.

Bronze Perpetual Calendar WEN ZHAI Contributor

When I was looking for a weekend market in Paris, I ended up in a French version of an open-air Dollarama. I considered myself lucky to find a decent market with indoor and outdoor venues in Dublin back in 2015. For someone who could only afford one weekend there, Paris was a desert and Dublin an oasis. I usually went to these markets for books and small objects, things that were suitable to pack for a long flight.

I have no idea when I stopped stressing over my perfectionism, but this bronze calendar certainly helped me grow out of the unhealthy part of it. It was not love at first sight,but the faded floral patterns and the two thin layers of disks did intrigue me. I’d never seen anything like that before—by aligning the month and year on the 13cm diameter plate, you can check the date for any given day between 1983-2037. Plus, it can stand like a photo frame. There is no indication of who or where it is from, but judging from the rough workmanship, it’s partially handmade. You can almost hear the hammer and nail.

Recently, when I searched online, the only similar calendar I could find was one that someone posted on Reddit. It can tell dates within 100 years and had a similar design to mine, with the same starting year. It was newer, while mine is a bit worn-out, with some of the patterns blurred and colours faded. That’s what made me hesitate in the first place. I don’t usually buy worn-out things, even if they’re second-hand. But I’m glad its glamour prevailed, and now I carry it with me everywhere I go. When I was packing to come to Canada, I did not doubt that I would take it with me.

Keeping the calendar in sight is like keeping a time capsule in mind.

It reminds me repeatedly of the continuity of time—how there is a tomorrow, even when days are long and years are short. It reminds me to appreciate the clumsiness of handmade objects and the traces of human usage left through time. Imagine how many stories this calendar has witnessed—mine will be among those as well.

I went off of you at fifteen. I thought ditching you would prove I was cured, that I had no need for this crutch. Two years later, I couldn’t go any longer without you, and I started with you again. I waited the dreaded two weeks, waiting for you to kick into my system. The metaphorical light then seeped in, and I’ve stuck with you ever since.

You are not a crutch but a tool. A beautiful, useful tool.

Before you came along, my life felt like the heart of a Sylvia Plath poem—not as eloquent as she could put it, but you get the idea. You put a halt to me drumming along to her fate.

People misunderstand you because they think you are unnatural; some cheat, a boost up that the “regular” person wouldn’t have. It’s not like that—I swallow you when I awake, three capsules of green and cream. I don’t think about it anymore. But in those early days, every day counted.

I want to take this moment to say that I owe the little moments to you—the mornings I can put my feet on the floor, listen to others, feel myself living within my body. There is space between the thoughts of self-destruction, not quite kindness yet, but hope.

It’s the little things, but the moments add up and become my life. Do I owe this life to pills in a translucent, plastic container? Right now, I’m saying I kind of do.

You don’t ask for anything back. All you say is; “Now here we are.

Now the work begins.”

You’ve allowed my heart to grow back, to take risks, to allow myself to look past the coming week. Hope in graduation, hope in meeting lovely people, hope in a body I can cherish.

Hope in, “Oh well. I tried,” and knowing that missteps aren’t the death of me, but only new starting points.

Prozac has brought me to the age of 22, a future I didn’t know could be mine. Camaraderie at working retail, almost four years now, a consistency I couldn’t imagine keeping in my teen years. A future of hot yoga with sweat dripping down my arms, hot coffee with Irish cream, weight gain, my dream kitty, saving for a retirement I’m already relishing over, and intimacy with once strangers. I am going to Scotland with my writing friends, I am going to pet some fluffy cows. I am given second chances and many more than just two.

To think I could not have seen all of this joy and growth, everything mental illness was close to snipping away.

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A Conversation with Post-Modern Connection The Kelowna band sits down to chat about their music, Tik-Tok and a year where (almost) everything sucked JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer EMMA SATO Art Director

Post-Modern Connection began with members Tega and Georges back in 2015. The two-piece started out by performing at open mic nights at UBC Okanagan. “We pretty much stumbled open each other,” said Georges. After two years playing together, the duo decided to form a band. “We really couldn't get into any good venues without having a full band in [Kelowna],” said Tega. “They really don't like dual acoustics here unless it’s like in a coffee shop or something.” Tega and Georges joined forces with bassist Steven, drummer Aaron and most recently Mitch, a violinist and synth player.

Things changed in 2020. The pandemic hit BC the day after the band finished filming their music video for Drowning. “I think for the band it was actually not the worst thing that could happen,” said Tega referring to the pandemic. “We got to just stop and make music, which I really enjoyed.” The pause has also given PMC the time to consider the band’s future, reaching out to producers and planning merch.

While PMC hasn't been able to tour since COVID struck, they’ve been busy. The five-piece performed virtual shows for the gigs that had to be cancelled earlier in the year. “It really wasn't the same,” said Georges. “We definitely had fun, but it’s not the same as being there with the audience and just connecting with them, so that's one thing I miss.”

Joss Arnott: What are you, as a band, about?

Tega: We’re just compiling different ideas and spinning them out. I

feel like that’s what Post-Modern Connection (PMC) is about. That’s kinda why the name is the name. It’s just about discarding the old ways of picking genres and just saying we’re gonna make what we feel inspired to make.

J: Your new single, “Drowning” came out last year. What is the song about to you, and do you think it resonated in the pandemic landscape?

T: It wasn't written for the pandemic. It was written because life just

sucks in general. But, to me, that song is really just about getting that feeling out there and saying; This feels terrible, and I want to give up.

That’s kind of what that song is saying, in nice simple terms. But, I also think it kind of works for the pandemic. When it hit, it was just like, this also feels terrible.

T:

Georges: Well, that’s ironic.

J: How does your music reflect who you are as a band?

I think we’re about just doing whatever we feel at the moment.

We’ve got some songs that [have a] hugely Bossa Nova/Spanish Latin guitar influence, and we’ve got songs that are jazz sounding that switch to Afrobeat in the middle and then come back to a slight indie rock. We’re pretty much just about doing whatever we like, and just going with it.

T:

“Drowning” was actually a pretty good example of us mixing a bunch of different things. I was listening to Gutter Girl by Hot Flash Heat Wave and Trudy and the Romance, they’re all doo-wopy.

T:

So I was like, I wanna make a song with that swing. I wrote the chords, Georges put all the nice licks on it. When we got to the middle, it was—I don't know how we made that up.

T:

G: [“Drowning”] is definitely a good example of pretty much a cauldron of different genres as well. Pretty much the whole swing of the song is doo-wopy. Having somewhat of a psychedelic part in the middle, and at the end more riffing, and J-rock.

J: How has your success on Tik-Tok affected the band?

T: Tik-Tok is interesting. Our first video really got out there—30,000

views and all that jazz. You gotta be consistent—and we’re not super consistent on Tik-Tok. That one video definitely connected us to a lot of people. It felt like being mini-famous for, like, a week. It’s really spread to a bunch of our other social media networks. It’s potential to connect you with an audience that’s actually interested in you, is massive.

G: The biggest increase was in our Spotify. We went from 800 followers up to nearly 1000.

J: Where do you want to take PMC in the future?

G: Definitely gearing up to work on an EP, and shows hopefully, if the pandemic dies down.

We want to put out an EP this year; we’re just waiting for some funding. We have lots of plans, it all just hinges on our EP.

T:

Support your local bands and check out Post-Modern Connection on Instagram, Spotify, Tik-Tok and Youtube to see their newest music video for “Drowning.”

T: *laughs* Yeah, that’s my motto.

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Love, in Interesting Times A look at the relationships that have bloomed in quarantine and how romance has changed during the pandemic JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer GERALDINE YARIS Illustrator

Under the Wave off Kanagawa by Hokusai Katsushika is perhaps the most famous piece of Japanese art that exists in the world today. It depicts a great and primal ocean wave, towering over a handful of fishermen. Huddled together in feeble boats, the fishermen are helpless against the sheer power of nature. All they can do is hold fast as The Great Wave comes crashing down upon them.

When the COVID-19 pandemic came crashing down, people found themselves suddenly divided. Some were lucky enough to be with loved ones; others were alone when the words “new normal” were plastered across their feeds. Relationships took on new meaning as humanity took shelter from a storm we’d never seen coming.

North Vancouver based therapist Stephanie Gilson notes that quarantining has brought some couples closer together but also broken many apart. “They realize they can't be together,” said Gilson, explaining how being around a partner constantly can cause friction, especially when the couple isn't used to it. “They don't have that, ‘go to work, come home, bitch about work, go to bed’ routine,” explained Gilson. Where some relationships have faltered under the strain of isolation, others become forged in its crucible. Gilson describes two couples that got together just as the pandemic began and who are now engaged. According to Gilson, the lack of a traditional honeymoon phase has helped these couples grow closer faster. “We start to really get to know each other and get that intimate connection together.”

When it comes to love in the time of COVID-19, no single trend or response has occurred. Perhaps in a decade, further research will be able to delineate more answers, but for now, there aren't any. In the eleven months since this sordid song and dance began, there has been no wave of divorces, no baby booms; there have only been people trying to make it through the storm. And as different as people are from each other, so have their experiences differed as we’ve each navigated this crisis in our own way.

Dawson Heistad, a fourth-year student at Capilano University (CapU), was one of many who found themselves in a new relationship as the pandemic began—something Heistad never anticipated.

Instead of attending class, Heistad and his girlfriend—an exchange student—were free to spend their time together. “That led to a pretty special understanding,” said Heistad. But as more strict restrictions were introduced and most countries closed their borders, things grew tense for the couple. “The question became whether or not she’d be able to get back.” While Heistad’s partner had planned on staying in Vancouver for six months, she left after three. “The initial lockdown helped us get to know each other, but later the same lockdown actually pulled us apart.”

Heistad knew the relationship most likely wasn't permanent, but endings hurt all the same. “There was a point of sadness, but I was glad I had the chance to experience it. That was a huge point of growth.”

When Hesitad’s partner left for home in Germany, he found himself in the same situation as many singles across the world—alone.

When classes resumed in the fall, Heistad felt increasingly isolated as friends and roommates became entrenched in school work. “That was a point where I started feeling lonely. The isolation definitely adds to that.” Heistad admitted that his feelings of loneliness often drive him to popular online dating apps like Tinder, OKCupid and Bumble. “When I use Tinder, I end up treating it like a game. I go on with better intentions, then run out of steam,” Heistad explained. For Heistad, the process of rating people on appearance tends to make him feel empty and uninterested in messaging those he matches with.

“Anyone that I’ve met and then built a relationship within Vancouver has been through being introduced by other people,” said Heistad.

“I’ve never found much of anything on Tinder.”

Lockdown or no, Tinder is as flawed as it’s always been. Yet, Tinder was used on Mar. 29, 2020, more than any other time in the app’s history.

As the pandemic dragged on, Tinder added video chat options and F E AT URES ­2 9

LOV E, IN INT ERES TING TIMES

unlocked the ability to swipe around the world for everyone. Sadly, the inherently human problems associated with online dating can't be solved with a quick patch or update.

Jasmine Wood was one of many who re-downloaded Tinder when the first wave struck. Hoping to find the app populated by those seeking a genuine connection, Wood was disappointed and deleted the app by the end of a single day of use. “There was this one guy who was just like ‘you know, I miss women…’ Like what do you want me to say to that?” Wood said, exasperated. “I can't relate, I don't care, suck it up! Like we’re all here together in this pandemic, I just had no patience. I gave up.”

Vancouver Island native Naomi Evers moved to the greater Vancouver area for school a few years ago. “In the time that I’ve lived here, all the people I’ve dated have either been from Tinder or school,” said Evers, discussing how even at work, she's found it hard to meet people.

She said that if it wasn't for school, she’d probably be using Tinder exclusively. Even though she finds it “kinda lame,” Evers faithfully redownloaded Tinder when the pandemic began. “It was fun, but I never took it very seriously, and then I deleted it,” said Evers. “Nothing ever feeling of being alone, the sadness and create something. When we comes from it. You can never tell what someone’s like when you see can talk about it, we don't feel so alone.” them on Tinder.” Explaining how her dates inevitably end up being incompatible with her when they meet up in person. “I just don't feel Another key tool, according to Gilson, is positive self-talk. The idea like wasting a first date, especially since it’s Covid,” she said. is to talk yourself into things that are good for you.By creating an inner dialogue that builds you up, you stop tearing yourself down. “I Instead of dating, Evers is focusing on strengthening the connections joked with my friend,” Gilson said with a chuckle. “What are dishes? she has in her life already. “You realize how much it helps to have that What are dishes even?! Why do them? What the hell is the point?!” support system that is just your friends.”

Despite her reservations, she still does the dishes because having a clean home makes her feel better. It’s really that simple. “Just focus Now more than ever, we’re asking ourselves, “Who are you willing on the things that make you feel good,” said Gilson. “Even if it seems to take into your circle?” Gilson says it’s an important question she stupid—do it. Because it makes you feel like you’re valuing yourself.” asks her clients regularly. While Gilson admits she has fallen out of touch with some friends, the pandemic has brought her much closer Jason Arkell-Boles, who has ironically had what he calls his healthiest with others. “If I'm going to bring somebody to that circle that’s so mental health year ever, is the pinnacle of positive self-talk. “Not important to me, that gives me my life, my support, my emotional pushing myself to get into social interaction and relationships has well being, my happiness, my laughter, my…everything. If I’m bringing helped me a lot,” said Arkell-Boles. “I’ve gotten over Tinder, and now somebody into that, they better be fucking amazing.”

I’m really into video games.” The pandemic has helped Arkell-Boles slow down, allowing him to rediscover his love of being a dweeb, all Sometimes, all we have is ourselves. “You’ll come to a point where the while slacking off in Zoom classes and playing Pokémon. “I’ve you think, ‘oh, I’ve been alone for quite a while, I feel kind of lonely,’” learnt how to be lazy, to be happy with being lazy,” said Arkell-Boles. explains Heistad, who isn't alone in his thinking. Studies have found “That’s given me insight into what I need to be happy, on the most that feelings of increased anxiety and depression have become basic level.” common during the pandemic.

In a year where the world is falling apart around us and will inevitably As a therapist, Gilson has noticed the pandemic has been hard for continue to do so, it’s important to love ourselves. It’s important, some men especially. This, she believes, is thanks to antiquated social imperative even, that we cling to the things we can. That we take care pressures like toxic masculinity. “Be a man, suck it up, don't cry.Men of not only ourselves but those closest to us—even if they can’t be are starved for real connection, and I think that has heightened in physically close right now. this pandemic.” Gilson stressed the importance of abandoning these masculine expectations that all too often perpetuate harmful ideals, There’s no right way to deal with a crisis and no right way to live life. and instead, reaching out to friends or loved ones.

All we can do, all anyone can do, is their best—and that's ok. It’s ok if the only date you have this valentine’s day is yourself. So maybe “It’s hard right now, It’s really hard,” said Gilson, who has noticed a don't doom swipe through Tinder, try running a bath, maybe listen to growing sense of loneliness amongst single people. “There’s a grief to something soothing and remember; that while The Great Wave may [loneliness],” said Gilson. What’s important, the therapist argues, is be bearing down upon us now, all storms eventually pass. talking about our feelings with those important to us. “You take that ­3 0

THE FUTURE OF HOGAN'S ALLEY Hogan’s Alley Society continues to work towards building a future for Black Canadians amidst Vancouver’s history of structural racism SARAH ROSE Features Editor VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator

The Georgia and Dunsmuir viaducts tower over the streets below like tombstones, artifacts of a stolen future—the future of Vancouver’s Black neighborhood. They represent the buildings and homes of over 800 residents in Hogan’s Alley (East Strathcona) that were razed in the name of urban renewal. Last June, the viaducts were the site of a peaceful protest where seven demonstrators, such as Capilano University (CapU) student Feven Kidane, were arrested for standing in solidarity with defunding the police and honouring Black life.

Hogan’s Alley wasn’t the first vibrant Black community to exist in Vancouver, but if the city continues to halt progress, it could be the last.

In East Strathcona, between Union Street and Prior is a trail of colourful graffiti. Follow it down past the shadow of condos to an overlooked shop that once was an unofficial shrine to Jimi Hendrix.

Beneath the coat of fire-engine-red paint lay the remains of Vie’s Chicken and Steak House, a legendary Hogan’s Alley haunt for jazz era icons like Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald and Nat King Cole.

Strumming further through these streets of the past reveals one of the fastest women in the world, Barbara Howard, who later became the first visible minority hired by the Vancouver School Board. Keep going, now stop. Look down from the pedestrian overpass on Raymur Avenue. Fifty years ago, a group of mothers from the Raymur Social Housing Project blockaded the train tracks below. The overpass is a memento of the fight for their community, so that over 400 children wouldn’t have to dodge trains to get to school. These remarkable

stories fall like winter rain among a sea of voices that will never be heard from, frozen in time.

Today, Kidane can’t sit still—but that’s not unusual for the ADHD Gemini-rising. She wades through the rooms of their home, putting together a quick meal. “Do you mind if I eat my lunch?” she asked between bites. As the Capilano Students’ Union (CSU) Students of Colour Liaison, Kidane works tirelessly to be present in multiple spaces. Between assisting in organizing Black Lives Matter protests throughout the year, they also worked as a Youth Advisory Council Member. Echoing the spirit of the Militant Mothers of Raymur, as part of their work with Black Lives Matter, Kidane supported 13-yearold Marquice Jeffers-Harris’s mother in her fight to change hit and run laws in Canada when no charges were laid for the driver who hit Marquice with an SUV. Jeffers-Harris was left outside of his home by the teacher at his school in Surrey with nothing but a towel, unable to walk.

Of everything Kidane does, what underpins their work is a message that if uplifted and held closer to more people, they might not have to work so hard for; “I’m just trying to join the fight for Black Liberation.” Yet Kidane’s presence within the city is something she is forced to think about all the time, because being Black in Vancouver is about sharing a language of isolation. “I should not have to walk through life like, ‘oh, there’s a Black lady that lives in my building? …

Wow, I got lucky.’”

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THE F U T URE OF HOGAN'S A L L E Y

Somewhere at the heart of Black displacement is Vancouver are the viaducts. Built in 1971 as part of an uncompleted plan for an eightlane freeway system, they separate what is now East Strathcona from Chinatown. Despite the city voting to remove the viaducts in 2015, they remain in place as monuments to an industrialist manifest destiny of highways and highrises. Through extensive lobbying, civic activism and resistance, the community prevented the remaining six lanes of the freeway system from being built. Protests, such as those Kidane was involved in during the summer, as well as activism against speculation—the practice of buying property and leaving it vacant for the purpose of reselling at higher prices in the future—as well unaffordable condo development. These are some of the ways marginalized communities in Vancouver continue to resist urban renewal.

non-profit organizations that can operate on a variety of scales, but are designed to keep land in perpetuity for the use of the community.

The proposal includes a cultural center, childcare services as well as commercial space.

There’s a book in Kidane’s house, The First Vancouver Catalogue from 1970, that contains nothing related to Hogan’s Alley­. She says she once borrowed an extensive history book from a friend, which revealed only three sentences about the community, and “it’s all about the crime!” Look anywhere, and most—if not all—books dedicated to the history of Vancouver lack any record of Hogan’s Alley. “Go into the City archives—all you’re going to find [are] pictures of houses, of some people,” said Kidane. “It’s purposely erased so that people don’t have to feel like they were robbed of something.”

In 2018, the ambitious Northeast False Creek Plan (NEFC), which won the American Planning Association Award, was approved. The NEFC plan is a 20-year proposal that would include building upwards of 25 highrises inside 58 hectares of land which encompasses Hogan’s Alley. It’s equivalent to a town the size of Prince Rupert. Green Party Councillor Adriene Carr voiced concerns in the four hour approval meeting for the NEFC that the proposed housing wouldn’t meet a realistic degree of affordability. “I feel 80 per cent [of the housing will be] high-end condos,” said Carr. The rate of affordable for-profit housing set by the city of Vancouver as of 2018 started at $1,903 for a one-bedroom unit in the West Side.

“When Hogan’s Alley was destroyed, Black people lost their core.

People scattered all over the place, some residents returned to the [United States] because they felt safer with their own people. The displacement has exacerbated our isolation,” said Lama Mugabo, a community planner and activist. Mugabo currently serves as a board member for the Hogan’s Alley Society.

In Metro Toronto, the Black population is four per cent higher than the national average of three-and-a-half per cent, largely due to the presence of enclaves—geographical areas with high concentrations of a minority group. “An enclave is a place of calm and a place of protective identity,” said geography Professor Dan Hiebert for The Tyee.

The 1970’s in particular were a period punctuated by urban renewal and gentrification sweeping through many major cities in North America. In addition to destroying whole neighborhoods the way the viaducts did, it also comes with the cost of rising rent, higher taxes and displacement by a largely affluent white population.

“When people dig deeper, they quickly realize that the paucity of the numbers [in Vancouver] is not by accident. It’s by design,” Mugabo said. For marginalized identities that experience greater discrimination in society, having a space to call home, to take refuge, is everything. “I think about it all the time…Maybe I wouldn’t feel so weird being the only Black person in many, many spaces where there should be more Black people because the space and Earth demands that,” Kidane said.

After the City voted to demolish the viaducts in 2015, Hogan’s Alley Society proposed a Memorandum of Understanding and a 99-year lease with the intention of using a Community Land Trust (CLT) as a tool to begin revitalizing the land. CLTs are community owned

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Six years later, and the city has made little progress despite continued efforts towards other projects. This could largely be due to the cities reliance on sales from a maze of new highrises and condos from developers that are intended to front the cost of removing the viaducts, which due to the pandemic, remains unclear when the city could see developers submitting applications. But Kidane worries it’s an issue of ongoing displacement in practices like redlining, or restrictive land title covenants. “If we were beyond redlining, Hogan’s Alley would be [already] here,” Kidane said.

“The invasion of condo development gradually erodes [the] community of any sense of livability and heritage,” said Mugabo in an interview for The Volcano. According to the NEFC plan, the social housing proposed by Hogan’s Alley Society would sit on the East block of Main Street, opposite of the proposed condos on the West block.

“Community Land Trust is the best mechanism that will bring Hogan’s Alley back to life, in dignity,” explains Mugabo. The CLT would not only protect the land from speculation—preventing it from being resold to the highest bidder—but ensure access to real affordable housing, with all revenue made invested back into the community.

“A lot of cities are watching Vancouver. What happened here happened in Montreal, in Halifax, and other places in Canada,” said Mugabo.

“We want real changes and a message to future generations that the city has atoned to its injustice against Black people.” Without a CLT, those like Kidane worry about what kind of place the land will be and for whom: “If it’s owned by the city, what is it really, who does it serve, will it be accessible?” If Vancouver wants to promise equality, then the first step should not be to rely on the whim of private developers—It should start with reparations. General Manager Gil Kelley discusses the NEFC plan for the American Planning Association Award as if he discovered the existence of Hogan’s Alley by accident through the project. In 2018, the city council issued a formal apology to the Chinese community for past racist policies, while the Black community is still waiting for acknowledgment.

Outside, Kidane catches their breath in between soft plumes of fog pierced by the winter sun. The need to just breathe for a moment—to

THE F U T URE OF HOGAN'S A L L E Y

experience life in a space we can call home—is felt in every shared moment of silence. Still, she always carries a sense of joy and hope.

“There is nothing hopeless when it comes to wishing that you had people that looked like you because that’s wishing that you had more life in your life.”

For all of us, the appreciation of beauty is coupled with a sense of loss, even if it’s not immediately visible. Buildings can never be just buildings. They can be havens of protection—they can also imprison and oppress. Buildings have the power to be tools for cultural destruction, to reinforce the colonial desire for expansionism. We look to buildings to embody the ideas we respect, to cradle us, like a mold where we become the visions of ourselves.

Architecture isn’t just a product of technological capability but a reflection of values and ideas. Often, buildings go unnoticed, until a silent explosion like losing the home, job, or family built within leaves an indelible mark on our lives.

Kidane believes in the heart of transformative justice, and in healing past wounds. “When I think about things like whiteness, I’m shocked how many people don’t look at that and think it’s heartbreaking because that’s self-inflicted cultural erasure,” Kidane said. “[Black] People nod to each other in this city—It’s just acknowledgement. … It’s like; ‘good to see that I’m not alone.’”

She paused for a moment. For Mugabo, breathing life back into Hogan’s Alley is one step towards building the communities of the future, but the viaducts remain artifacts of a future that was already stolen. A future that is already over. The idea of fully imagined cultural futures is a privilege of the past. As Han Kang writes in The Vegetarian, “faced with those decaying buildings and straggling grasses, she was nothing but a child who had never lived.”

We carry a critical responsibility to insure the living conditions for future generations, and it will remain out of reach so long as Canada’s foundation rests on a society built to sustain white supremacy. Many Black-led organizations in Vancouver struggle to meet the criteria for grants, and without more substantial widespread support, there is a real worry that the needs of the Black community could once again fall through the cracks.

Every day, we’re surviving historical events that spike closer together on the calendar like tachycardia on a heart monitor­—ecological disaster, a pandemic, the public emergency of racism, and the collapse of work as we know it. The need for survival, family, and community faced by Black diaspora is nothing short of a crisis.

Learn more about Hogan’s Alley Society, volunteer or donate at www.hogansalleysociety.org

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An a Mar i a Cai ced o

@anamariacaicedo_ ­3 4

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The Last Great American Queerbait Why a “ship” on a genre television show is proof of decades of queer erasure Why a “ship” on a genre television show is proof of decades of queer erasure

CLAIRE BRNJAC Arts & Culture Editor THEA PHAM Illustrator

To understand the fervour behind queer “ships”—a term used to connote a wish for two characters to begin a romantic relationship—is to realize that there has been a long-running effort to erase or belittle queer people and relationships in media.

In the 1930s, during the waning of the movie industry in America, the Motion Picture Production Code—also known as the Hays Code—was a set of rules established to change the public’s perception of movies to a more sanitized version due to mounting studio pressure. This code included rules like not showing interracial relationships, no childbirth or sex scenes, no positive criminal portrayals, and no taking the Lord’s name in vain. In the beginning, homosexuality in any sense was not allowed to be shown, but by 1941, a homosexual could be gay on screen but must be punished somewhere in the metanarrative in order to pass through the guidelines and be shown in theatres.

Due to this code’s nature, characters believed to be gay had to show it in subtle ways, if any ways at all. Depicted and cast as “interior decorators” or “hairstylists,” these “pansies” had few ways to show their queerness—usually confirmed years after the movie had come out, through conversations with the actors or directors—or they are portrayed as serial killers or misfits from society, like in Silence of the Lambs.

The Hays Code died out in 1968 when the Motion Picture Association of America created four well-known levels of ratings for moviegoers: G, PG-13, R, and X. But the effects of this code have been felt well into the present, especially concerning ideas around “public safety” and what a “good character” must present themselves as, which brings us to now.

Social media exploded on Nov. 5 with the news that a male character, an angel named Castiel in the long-running horror/ fantasy television show Supernatural, professed his love to a human male named Dean Winchester. Before fans could rejoice, Castiel was immediately killed for that action and sent into a

void of nothingness called the Empty, where he was to presumably suffer for all eternity.

Dean and Castiel’s relationship had been fraught with sexually suggestive dialogue throughout the twelve years since Castiel’s first appearance, constantly being called “boyfriends” by other characters throughout the seasons, and subtext frequently suggested by the actors of the characters themselves. In part, this relationship sustained the show, as many viewers tuned in to see Castiel and Dean interact. This directly ties into the notion of “queerbaiting,” a phenomenon in which producers will tease a queer relationship between two characters to attract and sustain viewers without making an effort to canonize the relationship— thereby avoiding the loss of more conservative or homophobic viewers. The writers and showrunners could tease that they know about it in an episode by mentioning it directly but do not seem to give it any actual thought in the show’s canon.

It seems, in a word, dated. As the years go on, queer people are making and writing their own content in the face of potential backlash from more conservative fanbases. With the death of Castiel, it seems Supernatural had unintentionally followed a Hays Code-era guideline—for their queer character to exist, he had to suffer for it. Queerbaiting will never be as strong as an actual queer relationship, with all the risks that come along with it. While it is excellent that this confession was made, it was cheap to immediately rescind it and regulate Castiel’s fate to a single line in the show’s finale.

The real motivations behind Castiel revealing his love will never truly be known, whether it is a loving reference to the fans who supported the ship, a last-minute viewer grab by the studio, or an honest decision by the writers and actors. Maybe Supernatural’s parent company, much like in the 1930s, forbade the relationship in fear of freezing out other viewers. In the end, we can mourn what would have been, and push for more well-written gay relationships in the future that hopefully don’t take 12 years to come to fruition.

OPINIONS

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THERE IS MORE TO ROMANCE THAN MEETS THE EYE

Romance novels: the domain of swooning, windswept heroines, heaving bosoms and shirtless, long-haired Fabios; ripped bodices, Harlequin novels, and poorly written smut. They’re that half-smushed paperback you found stuffed down the side of your grandma’s couch—something shameful and not worth acknowledging in the open.

Perhaps we should reevaluate that. Instead, jump into a media genre that guarantees a happy ending, increasingly pushes for more representation of all types and has a loudly unashamed and passionate readership community.

That probably sounds pretty fun to you, and if you’re thinking so, you’re far from alone.

Romance is an old, expansive genre where prolific writers are the norm, so there’s something to suit every desire. All kinds of storytelling are represented, and every trope remixed: nothing is sacred. Not only does this lend romance a willingness to innovate and play, but this also means there are miles of temptation with which to lure in new readers. As it happens, years of listening to a persistent friend finally wore down this now-devoted fan.

I’ve never regretted giving in and have joyfully dabbled in many styles of romance, knowing there’s always something exciting on the horizon.

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So why is the romance genre routinely dismissed?

The short answer comes down to the genre’s core: it is typically written by women, for women and, as a result, mostly deals with the female experience. You will not have to search far to find long, florid descriptions of breathtaking heroes and heroines arriving to save the day and sweep someone off their feet.

Romance oozes with the female gaze, and that’s one of its bestdefining features.

The female experience, however, is routinely seen as lesser by a patriarchal society that thrives upon ramming male-as-default down our collective throats. Men’s experiences of the world are considered the norm. Everything from medical studies to crash test dummies has assumed this and further consigned nonmale experiences of the world to a dusty little niche in a dark corner of the basement where there’s only one sad, dim lightbulb for ambiance.

As a result, an entire book genre is dismissed because they are completely and utterly entwined with women and their lives.

When you think about it like that, it feels pretty crappy to dismiss stories about the lived experiences of a large proportion of the people on this rock simply because of sexism.

It’s time to stop referring to romance as a guilty pleasure and embrace the genre for the joy it brings STEPH BLISS Contributor KARLA MONTERROSA Illustrator

Predictability is a similar method of dismissing romance because we all know how it ends, of course. People meet, they fall in love, and there’s a happily ever after. It seems rather boring. Turn that on its head, and you have a feature: there’s never any doubt that the characters will work it out by the end, and there’s freedom in being along for the ride when assured a good outcome.

When the real world we live in is often confusing and alarming, a guaranteed happy ending is a balm to soothe those ills.

Despite these criticisms, romance is here to stay. It is quietly one of the biggest genres in publishing and has been a force in the industry for many years. Think about it like those Harlequin novels you have been semi-terrified of for years, but notice everywhere once you start to see them. Better, look for novels by authors like Nora Roberts, who is widely perceived as queen of the genre.

Publishing multiple books a year, wealthy, and well respected, she typifies long-term success in a genre that subsists on it.

The romance community on social media is loud about their love for the genre and are only getting louder. They’re here to have the discussions about the thing they love, including the hard ones about diversity, representation, and the many other complex topics that romance often deals with. At its heart, people find joy in romance and wanting to improve the thing you love can be seen as the highest form of respect.

Romance’s popularity can be seen in Netflix’s recent adaptation of Julia Quinn’s famous Bridgerton series. With high profile backing from Shonda Rhimes, you can be sure that the characters will have us all swooning for years to come. Those paying attention to viewers' responses can guess that this is only the beginning of a long and hopefully delightful trend of adaptations.

So the next time you come across a romance book, question your presumptions and perhaps give it a try. Find some happiness in a million different worlds that always end on a good note.

Maybe one day soon, you can join that persistent friend and me on our mission to bring a little bit more romance to Vancouver, one book at a time.

You can follow Steph and her friend Denise’s dream of bringing a romance specific bookstore to Vancouver on Instagram @primerosebooksyvr.

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Mistrust of Vaccinations A Nehiyaw Perspective TRISTIN GREYEYES Contributor JAIME BLANKINSHIP Illustrator

To understand why some Indigenous people hesitate to take the COVID-19 vaccine, you must understand the longstanding historical and ongoing systemic racism and discrimination they are dealt with by the government, western medicine and health care professionals.

As you may have learned in school, diseases were used as biowarfare to take land from and control Indigenous people.

First Nations people did not have the antibodies to fight these foreign diseases, thus forcing nations to sign treaties in order to access the western medicine that would help save their people.

This did not apply to all nations. West Coast First Nations did not sign treaties but were also impacted by the diseases.

What you might not have learned in school is that many residential school survivors have testified that children were being experimented on. There are too many other examples of racism that can be found in the healthcare field to list, but here are some modern-day examples: Mothers having their children stolen from them immediately after birth (birth alerts); First Nation children unable to access adequate health care that they need because of payment disputes ( Jordan’s Principle); people dying in waiting rooms (Brian Sinclair); downplaying and minimizing patients concerns of wellbeing or over-medicating ( Joyce Echquan); being accused of drug and or alcohol abuse and being sent home; and more recently, medical staff have been reported for gambling at the percentage of First Nations’ alcohol levels.

Now that we’ve established the racial inequalities and marginalization within Canada’s healthcare system, the hope is that you might understand where their mistrust lies when having a conversation with a skeptical Indigenous person about vaccines. Often, conversations around vaccination come off patronizing, but having a kinder, gentler approach when speaking about the importance of vaccinations, using plain words, is more constructive and positive. There are many ways to educate without making someone feel crazy for feeling scared. If you

don’t have the patience, let Indigenous health care professionals do the talking.

All that being said, there are many Indigenous people and First Nation communities who are taking the vaccinations at their earliest convenience. First Nation communities across socalled Canada have taken the necessary steps to protect their community since the beginning of the pandemic. When it was understood that the older generations were the most vulnerable, leaders took immediate action to protect their elders. Elders are vital to our communities because they hold so much of our cultural knowledge and native language. In Indigenous law, which carries from one nation and culture to another, is that utmost care and respect we have for our elders. This law is a universal responsibility and kinship that we have. We keep our elders in our communities comfortable until it is their time to leave us for the spirit world. Many First Nation communities are being vaccinated, and so are their elders. This pandemic has tested the strength and resiliency of Indigenous people and First Nation communities, but they persevere yet again and continue to put the health and care of their communities as their top priority.

I hope everyone considers others’ well-being and future generations when deciding whether or not to take this vaccination. I do not judge anyone for fearing vaccinations.

Fears are legitimate and can impact our livelihoods. I hope those who fear the worst find courage through others to take the vaccination. I want to go back to the ceremony, round dances, powwows, cultural activities with my family, and visit again without fearing passing on a deadly virus. I am so thankful this isn’t going to last forever. I am so excited to go back to those important parts of my life and to be able to raise my children in it.

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The Trials and Tribulations of Online Sex Work Support sex workers in a world where influencers can use their bodies to sell products but sex workers can’t use theirs to survive SARAH MOON Contributor NAOMI EVERS Illustrator

With everyone and everything being offered on social media nowadays, we have seen an incredible rise in online sex work—especially in the wake of this global pandemic.

With everyone and everything being offered on social media nowadays, we have seen an incredible rise in online sex work— especially in the wake of this global pandemic.

Online sex work has been a saving grace for many of us sex workers, even before the pandemic. It’s especially wonderful for folks with disabilities and/or mental health issues that make it difficult to do a regular nine-to-five job.

The pandemic has seen a surge in “survival sex workers”— those who have now hopped on the bandwagon with the idea that slangin’ pictures of their feet is going to be enough to pay the bills—and that’s just not true. Many of these people do very little research into the cause and effects of online sex work and how it can change your life forever.

Unfortunately, there is still a massive amount of stigma surrounding sex work and the individuals who provide it. Whether it’s hate, cyberbullying or the inability to post promotional pictures to social media without getting flagged. It’s clear these apps discriminate against sex workers—why else can an otherwise unremarkable John Doe pose nude with a trombone covering his genitalia on Facebook without a second thought?

It is a daily battle for sex workers just to be allowed to post on the internet advertising services and content to survive and that’s only one singular aspect. Online platforms are making it harder

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for folks to survive with shadowbans—a censoring tactic used on many of these platforms—and unclear Terms of Service.

Sex workers have to fight for their rights in multiple ways. We have to hustle every day in a social media world that doesn’t allow us to have or use our female form to our advantage—we are punished for it. I’ve had to delete so many memories, so much of my work and any media that gives the slightest hint that I have the female form or that I am a sex worker.

I have used ridiculous nicknames, different spelling and cheeky suggestions just to promote my work to prevent my social media accounts from being deleted. Such pet names as “Lonely Hams,” “Only Cans,” or “Onlee Fawns” to refer to OnlyFans, one of the most popular websites for independent online sex work.

Having to resort to hilarious taglines like “L1NK 1N b10” to trick the social media bots into thinking I’m not selling content.

The Kim Kardashians of the world can post nudity freely and without consequence, while the rest of us are policed by bots and coding that removes our posts unless we cover our bodies or risk deletion, shadow banning or worse. These double standards are ridiculous.

When celebrities, and others with privilege and power, dip a toe into sex work without doing any research, it can cause real harm to sex workers dependent on those platforms. When

Bella Thorne made an OnlyFans account, she sent out a $200 USD pay per view (PPV) for pictures of her naked in bed.

Thorne was able to post a direct link from her Instagram account, which is something us bottom feeders aren’t able to do.

When the photos never materialized, the amount of refunds demanded resulted in OnlyFans setting a tip limit for PPV’s of $100 USD. They also introduced payment processing delays for creators in many countries.

Thorne considers herself a trendsetter for starting an OnlyFans, when the reality is she irreparably damaged the platform for all of us that have been grinding to survive in an online climate that doesn’t even allow us the ability to promote in any real way. Thorne’s wealth and power should mean that she deserves

to be giving more than those bottom feeder sex workers struggling just to have a voice.

As it stands, all sex workers are going to be fighting censorship and demonization for a long time. You can help sex workers by sharing their content, tipping them, signing sex worker positive petitions, repealing bills like FOSTA-SESTA and speaking out against the censorship of women’s bodies on the internet, as well as in real life. It’s time we become pro-sex worker and pro-women.

An offical petition has been has been put forward by repel Bill-36 and decrimalize sex work in Canada. You can sign it at petitions.ourcommons.ca by Mar. 31.

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Ignorance and Bliss in Vancouver, BC The recently concluded New Leaf Project gave $7,500 to homeless people living in the Downtown Eastside, but was it enough?

JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer ETHAN WORONKO Illustrator

There are two epidemics in the city of Vancouver: drugs and apathy.

My mother volunteered in the Downtown Eastside (DTES) while she was pregnant with me. It’s been twenty-one years since then, and the issue of homelessness still stands. Indeed, it’s gotten worse. We all know the sights and sounds; used needles and desperate screams, dried blood and distant police sirens. With an air of practiced ignorance, we see and then unsee the awful conditions that exist in the DTES. That’s because homelessness isn’t going away—empathy is.

It’s telling that it took less than a month for Vancouver to reinvent society when the COVID-19 pandemic struck. Monetary aid was given freely, and we made sacrifices for the good of everyone. So how is there a decades-long homeless epidemic in the same city?

In 2020, over 1,500 people died from a drug overdose in British Columbia. In that same time frame, the COVID-19 pandemic claimed 988 lives in BC. In collaboration with the University of British Columbia, Foundations for Social Change launched the New Leaf Project in 2020.

This pilot program tested the effectiveness of universal income for homeless people living in Vancouver. One hundred and fifteen participants were selected within specific parameters to maximize the study’s 42

effectiveness: participants were required to have been homeless for less than two years and have no history of mental illness or substance abuse. Of the 115 newly homeless people chosen for the study, 50 were given a one-time bank deposit of $7,500.

The money was dispersed with no strings attached, and all participants had access to classes that taught basic finances. The study’s goal was to showcase that people can and will turn their lives around for the better when given a chance—and it worked. Those who received the money had better food security, found permanent housing faster and had more savings than their counterparts in the study who did not receive the lump sum.

Traditional social welfare is an IV drip: a little money given each month to keep people alive but it doesn’t let them live.

That’s because it’s difficult to worry about rent, clothes or education when you can barely feed yourself. That’s why the New Leaf Project is so revolutionary. It offers trust and opportunity freely. An upfront, lump-sum gives someone the chance to find their feet. Suddenly, you don’t have to worry about surviving until tomorrow.

You can plan for next week or next year, whether that means finding an apartment, going to school or getting a job. The choice is their own, and that’s why this project is so special.

While the New Leaf Project helped fifty people get their lives back on track, over 2000 people in Vancouver identify as homeless. The idea behind the project is hopeful, but it alone will never be enough to solve the systemic problems inherent to this city’s core epidemic. The project’s goal is to stop people from getting absorbed by the DTES—not fixing it. Until we can address the substance abuse and mental illness rampant in the core of this city, it can never heal. Social housing gets people off the street, but it sure as shit doesn't stop addiction.

We don't need increased policing. We don't need to close more tent cities. We don't need any more band-aids. We need the municipal, provincial and federal governments to work together to help these people. And to do that, people need to start caring again.

We need to treat homeless people as people.

You can’t glaze your eyes and stare straight ahead as you cross Hastings. Something has to change, and that something has to be radical. Clean injection sites, more social housing, the New Leaf Projects and even Vancouver City Council’s move to decriminalize drugs are all great initiatives, but these are band-aids being placed upon a gushing wound. The Downtown Eastside won’t change until we stop pretending that it isn't there. People are dying, and we’re not doing enough to stop it.

Cautiously Optimistic What campus goers can expect the return to a new normal to look like NIROSH SARAVANAN Contributor JANELLE MOMOTANI Illustrator

As the COVID-19 pandemic rages on, it has become increasingly clear that students are receiving the short end of the stick.

With a lack of resources, a shrinking job market and the other unique challenges facing the student demographic, campuses and student groups need to step up and help ensure that the new normal is more equitable than before.

By allowing students to isolate and manage their illness, it reduces the chance of transmission. Other new technologies are taking off now, such as UV lights capable of killing pathogens while not causing cancer.

One thing should be made abundantly clear: most students are not on the priority list to get vaccinated. Many Capilano University (CapU) students also live outside Vancouver Coastal Health’s jurisdiction, limiting their feasibility to return to campus.

So, students should not bank on returning to physical classes soon. Instead, schools need to embrace this as a time to change and grow, and students need to speak up, voice their needs and provide feedback to their instructors to foster a better learning environment. Students and their representatives need to pressure the provincial and federal governments to safely and efficiently roll out the vaccinations—even as Canada ranks below its peers in terms of vaccination rates.

However, these solutions should not come at the cost of environmental responsibilities. Littering has become a huge issue during the pandemic due to disposable PPE, but it is just one example of the pandemic’s impact on the environment.

It’s everyone's responsibility to ensure that our recovery is not to the detriment of the environment.

The new learning environment we’ve been subjected to can lead to the creation and proliferation of non-traditional education, which needs trial and error to develop successfully. It’s a great time to introduce new learning models, such as gamification (applying game design concepts into non-game areas such as a point system or dynamic role-play into the class). Another useful concept is the idea of a reverse classroom that strictly uses the physical classroom only for activities that require in-person participation and reduces the amount of contact required. This makes the classroom a more dynamic experience and could potentially alleviate some mental health hardships. Learning in a social, novel manner while being distant is a challenge, but one we can rise to.

CapU also needs to invest in ways to improve hygiene on campus.

One method is improved air circulation. Another is fostering a culture of self-care, allowing students to take the necessary time to heal and recover when they are ill or suspected to be a carrier.

Education isn’t the only area where the pandemic has affected students. The pandemic’s economic impact has also hit students hard. Initially, students didn’t qualify for the Canadian Emergency Response Benefit (CERB). While the creation of the Canadian Emergency Student Benefit (CESB) addressed this, it was evident the priority of those eligible for relief were in the job market and arguably more financially secure. This contrasts against the employment patterns of many students who often work seasonal positions.

The pandemic has also had a significant impact on the mental health of students, which is already an underrepresented area.

The grief and strife brought on by the public health crisis has hit students particularly hard. More resources need to be made available for students to help them cope during this dire time. On and around campus, counselling, helplines and The Foundry; a group of clinics focused on the well-being of folk aged 12 to 24, are all available to students.

Things will not be the same when students return to CapU— assuming they do. Many have reached the milestone of graduation during their pandemic, marking a shift in their life. Much like life after graduation, life after returning will have new directions and opportunities for the Capilano community at large.

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G i a n m a r c o Lu e l e

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G i a n m a r c o Lu e l e

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Sexless in the City: Lessons Learned From a Toxic Tale

JAYDE ATCHISON Columnist

In 2016, I seemed to gravitate towards men that wanted my body but couldn’t appreciate my brain. I was left shaken after being told, “you’re not the kind of girl I could be in a relationship with, but if you want to just have sex, I would be cool with that.” Five different people had stood me up in six months, and my standards dropped so low, I considered it a successful date if the guy just showed up.

When I matched with a handsome guy on Tinder, my hopes were high, but my expectations were low. We had yet to meet, but I knew of him through mutual friends, so I felt safe agreeing to a date. The nature of the dating apps meant I had swiped right because I was attracted to his looks, but on this date I became attracted to his wit, intelligence, and life goals. It ended with a butterfly-filled kiss and a promise to see each other soon.

I thought maybe this was what everyone was talking about when they said, “when it’s right, you just know.” We sprung headfirst into a relationship, and three weeks in, we exchanged sentiments of our love. At a girl’s night, I found myself picking the lint off throw pillows just to hold myself back from gushing about the man I wanted to map out the rest of my life with.

We lived harmoniously, and I spent my 24th year feeling like the universe was finally on my side. Around my 25th birthday, something shifted; my rose-coloured glasses fell off and shattered beneath his feet. Slowly, I was being exposed to a different man, one that I didn’t recognize. The man who once appeared career-driven and goal-oriented became someone who pre-scheduled his tweets to make it look like he was up at five each morning getting a workout in, while in reality, he remained unconscious and hungover after another night out.

I still felt love for him, and we spent Sunday mornings discussing how many people we would want at our eventual wedding. When I hit my social meter on a night out, I would whisper in my partner’s ear if he wanted to leave soon to go home and cuddle, but more often than not, he chose closing out the bar over me. Our relationship began pilling like my favourite sweater, slowly becoming unwearable. Fights over how busy I was became a trend and turned into arguments about how the idea of drinking until 3 am, on the one free evening I had, was a more attractive option than hanging out with me.

Sometimes a flicker of our fresh beginning would show when I would find little cheesy notes on my apartment door. I would catch myself smiling before I was reminded of the argument we had the night before. Gradually, I would hear his plans to spend the night out with friends whose names I had never heard before. I found myself having to fake laugh and offer excuses when mutual friends asked why I hadn’t come to an event I was never told about it to begin with. I had given all my trust to this human, so I had never suspected cheating until these moments arose. When I would ask, he would accuse me of being crazy, jealous or a poor listener because he most definitely mentioned these outings or friends to me. I would anxiously pick at my nails and question my reality, trying to convince myself my gut feeling was just paranoia, and if he said he loved me, that was the truth.

Our relationship faded as many do, but it didn’t go gently into the night. It left stains like the uneaten dinners thrown at my feet during an argument. I told myself I had to stay—things had to work out; they just had to. He was the first person to utter those three pretty words to me, and I was scared

that no one would say them again. I chanted internally that these rocky times were normal in every serious relationship, but maybe people never talked about it. Looking back, there was nothing normal about feeling the rush of air next to my face as a fist hit the wall I was leaning against. Normality does not consist of telling your partner they are boring and that they wished they had a better girlfriend than you. Being made to feel less than isn’t something healthy couples go through.

As we kissed our final kiss, wet from both our tears, I was scared for what lay ahead but relieved that I could start to breathe again. It took two hard years after the break-up to be ready to be vulnerable with someone again.

It felt like I slipped down a gutter, left alone with a Pennywise-sized hole in my heart. He pulverized my idea of love, left me ruined and convinced that I was always going to be left alone. Each time I saw someone demonstrating romantic interest, I felt my stomach curdle like old milk. What if they also screamed at me on Denman Street that I would never be enough?

I recently had someone confirm all those “paranoid and crazy” thoughts I had about his new nighttime friends while we were dating.

It hurt, but it taught me to always trust my gut and be confident enough to walk away when the time presents itself. Despite all the toxicity that came with my first love, I have rewired my mind and am open to beginning a healthy relationship with someone that celebrates my achievements instead of putting them down out of jealousy and resentment. I am excited to eventually start a new journey with a person that sees me for all my quirks and imperfections and still chooses me every night. In the meantime, I will remind myself I am worthy of love.

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Virtual Reality: Offline Means Left Behind

HASSAN MERALI Columnist

When the COVID-19 pandemic shut down much of daily life in March 2020, educational institutions were faced with a question: how will educators continue to deliver classes and other services when people can’t be in the same room together? Students and faculty were three-quarters of the way through courses that had already been paid for and funded. The end of the academic term was near, and students and faculty wanted certainty about how they would continue to learn and work. With few other options available, post-secondary institutions across Canada made a consequential decision— shift everything online.

only way to get schoolwork done. It’s easy to slip into the mindset of thinking that every student has access to a device and a reliable Internet connection, but not everyone has that privilege.

You can get cheap laptops for a couple hundred bucks that handle basic word processing and connect to the Internet, but those are slow and typically struggle to run more than one program at a time. A laptop with enough memory and processing power to handle the demands of modern school life costs around $1,000.

Although some internet service providers Lectures, labs, assignments, tests, quizzes, lifted data caps because of the pandemic, and exams—everything went online. Even home Internet plans are still costly for the group projects went online (you’re excused average student. Cheap Internet plans if a shudder just went down your spine). in Vancouver start at $25 per month, but It’s where much of modern post-secondary barebones plans like that often have data caps education takes place anyway. Almost all and very low download and upload speeds. post-secondary institutions offer some fully For reference, the BC Government says online classes, and many have “mixed mode” something like remote education requires a classes that are half online, half in person. minimum internet speed of 6-15 megabytes Even classes held in person must normally per second (mbps) both ways. This becomes access resources and “fourth-hour” activities important for online lectures, where some on eLearn. instructors require students to keep their cameras on to verify attendance.

From an administrative perspective, it was a familiar method of course delivery that There are supports for students, allowing could be expanded from some courses to Internet access and a device to work on, all of them. With the unfamiliar nature of but they're limited. Through its Internet for an evolving public health emergency and Good program, the CSU partnered with the challenge of hosting in-person classes TELUS to provide subsidized Internet access that would comply with public health orders, for up to 200 students. Under this program, it’s hard not to empathize with academic students can receive Internet for only $9.95 leadership here—there literally wasn’t much per month with download speeds up to 25 else they could do. Regardless, we should mbps, but they must apply and demonstrate examine the cost of technology for accessing financial need. The CSU has a program basic services at school. called Device Doctor, where repair services are provided for free and students only pay If you were to look around the Capilano for parts. For students without a device at University Library on any given day pre- all, the IT Help Desk in the library has some pandemic, you'd see tables full of students laptops available for long term loans. working on their laptops. But you’d also see many students working at one of the When my laptop broke at the start of the desktop computers available for use. For Fall 2019 term, I didn’t have the money to some students, those computers are the get a new one that was halfway decent, so

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I decided to save and wait. Being without a computer was a situation I thought I’d never find myself in. For six months, I used my phone and the desktop computers at school to do my assignments. It gave me a whole new level of appreciation for the number of available computers on campus, and how late they keep some of those computer labs open (again, pre-pandemic).

Not having a computer is a tenuous situation in normal times. During a pandemic when everyone is relying on digital technology and communications services for everything from school, to doctors appointments, to socializing and dating, it’s practically untenable.

It’s also a situation that’s probably been worsened by the economic pain caused by the pandemic. Many students work service jobs that no longer provide sufficient income due to the public health situation. Service workers receive fewer hours, less in tips, and can no longer rely on the Canada Emergency Response Benefit (CERB). Although the Canada Emergency Student Benefit (CESB) helped many get through the summer, up to $1,250 or $2,000 a month doesn’t replace the amount students would have earned if they were working full-time. And the proposed Canada Student Service Grant (CSSG) program that sought to pay students for volunteering never materialized because of the Trudeau-WE Charity controversy.

Factoring in the cost of living in Metro Vancouver, alongside the fact that many students have to support themselves, it’s not hard to see how some students are not on a level playing field when it comes to technology. Many have predicted a shift to a more digital education for a while now, and if the last year has taught us anything, it’s that events like a pandemic accelerate transformations already underway. We don’t have to ever move to a completely online educational experience, but if we do, more support will be needed to make sure that those who are offline don’t get left behind.

Stories from the Long Walk: A transcendent moment on a long, dusty road

CHARLOTTE FERTEY Columnist

When I decided to join my mother on the long walk in Spain, known as the Camino de Santiago, I was excited to escape the damp autumn in Vancouver and spend it outside in the sun. Most of all, I was excited about the adventure.

For many, the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage is about seeking or discovering or questing.

Some walk as a way of remembering, those who are grieving. Some walk with a partner, others walk alone—sisters, widows, longlost and life-long friends. People walk as part of their religious beliefs or for a spiritual experience. There are individuals in crisis, freshly out of a marriage, recently left a high ranking job—it’s people who need to escape.

In just over a month of walking 20 to 30 kilometres a day, I met all of these people.

As for my mother and I, we just wanted to walk together.

The word “pilgrimage” usually suggests a religious or spiritual connotation to attain a closer connection with a higher being, or to encounter God. The Camino’s origin is both religious and spiritual, but that is not always what draws people.

On the Camino, you will undoubtedly encounter a wide array of people such as the 19-year-old German girls ready to socialize over a few beers or the ever-quip-ready Irish folks laughing their way along the path. But ultimately, an air of reverence transcends the banter that happens along the way—most people had a quietness within them. There is something about walking all day, every day, only as fast as your feet can carry you, that brings moments of individual contemplation and bursts of pure, joyous laughter with others.

I noticed those there with a purpose—to spread ashes along the Camino or on a personal spiritual journey—were quite serious. Given the physical nature of walking, it was remarkable how focused these

individuals were. It was hard to comprehend not laughing or joining in for a glass of vino tinto and patatas bravas in a town square. It seemed those were the moments that made the long walk worth it; the socializing and the feeling of absolute satisfaction upon arrival in each town.

Two weeks into walking, my mind slowed down to welcome every thought. My chest felt as if it had begun to open from the inside, and I could breathe more deeply. The air tasted sweeter. The blue chicory I walked by was seemingly bluer, and the pack on my back felt lighter.

This shift in my state of mind might have been a breakthrough but could easily be chalked up to sleep deprivation and genuine deliria from heat and all that walking.

After two weeks of walking, we came upon a fork in the road. There in the middle of nowhere, was an easily missed small stone chapel with its ancient stones crumbling at the edges. My mother noted that the door had been locked both times she had walked by on previous trips. We walked across a small courtyard, under the terracotta tiled porch to peek in the small door window. To my mother’s delight, the heavy wooden door swung open.

I left my backpack outside and stepped through the arched doorway onto the uneven stone floor. I stopped at the threshold—the atmosphere within was thick, palpable and heavy with the smell of incense and burning candles. The sweat on my back cooled with the absence of my pack. I closed my eyes and breathed. I opened them again to see a few plain wooden pews and a small stone altar covered with flowers and burning candles.

Warm afternoon light from a small high window filtered in through the moted air.

A light breeze tickled my face, and I breathed in the fragrance of incense and roses, feminine and soft.

Turning, I saw a tiny nun sitting in the chapel’s darkened back corner. She stood as I approached, took my hands in hers, and softly said a prayer in Spanish before laying her old, gentle hands on my head. After a few moments, she grasped a small medallion hung on a light blue thread and I bent down as she placed it around my neck.

She seemed to have stopped time with hardly a word spoken—the only time was now, the only place was here. I thanked her before turning back to the front of the chapel. I sat in the nearest pew as hot tears stung my face.

I could not stop the tears. I did not know where this wave of emotion had come from.

Had I needed to have a big cry or was I just tired? It felt like quietude.

Later, when my face finally dried, I tried to understand why I had such a reaction in the chapel.

I considered the size and grandios ity of the churches and cathedrals we had visited over the last several days. Ornate buildings with breathtakingly beautiful stained glass and high ceilings, majestic pipe organs and echoing apses. None of them met me in the way that humble stone church had.

As we walked on, I kept returning to the idea that perhaps I had found the kind of spiritual quietness—if only for a brief, weepy moment—that so many people seek when they embark on a journey far from home.

I sometimes reflect upon that day in the chapel as I walk to work in the mornings or back home in the evenings. I want to remember that at any moment I might be gifted with a return to that feeling of what I’ve come to call the “chapel feeling.” To be open to the possibility of finding something I did not expect or seek. Something that was waiting for me, a gift, if only I would push open the door and enter.

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What's Brewing?

Masala Chai: sweet, spiced tea with a bitter origin

CAM LOESCHMANN Columnist

Tea is a truly ancient plant—humans have been drinking it for thousands of years— but the teas of antiquity look much different from the beverages we drink today. As with any human invention, changes in time and place had various effects on tea. The biggest change, however, came with European colonialism.

At the beginning of the seventeenth century, the Dutch East India Company started bringing tea to Europe to sell. Its popularity only grew when sugarcane plantations in the Americas started selling sugar back to Europe to sweeten the slight bitterness that tea naturally had. This sugar was inexpensive since the labour needed to grow and process sugarcane was provided primarily by enslaved West African people.

As camellia sinensis (tea) became more popular, it became necessary to grow it on huge plantations as sugar had been. This required expanses of land and populations of cheap labour. Since the British East India Company had power in India since the 1750s, they saw an opportunity in the region of Assam and started the first tea estates there in the early nineteenth century. “At first, this valuable commodity was strictly for export,” writes Justin Rowlatt for BBC News, “but as production grew and the price fell, Indians began drinking tea too … and they followed the example of the British and drank their tea with milk and sugar.”

As wonderful as it would be to travel to India to speak to a chaiwallah at the source, there is unfortunately, a pandemic going on. Fortunately, Shivam Jaiswal came to Vancouver four years ago and, unable to find authentic Chai here, started selling his own.

Follow @ChaiWagon on Instagram for a daily update on where the carts are so you

can try some for yourself! Jaiswal sells dairy and non-dairy versions, as well as snacks and tins of tea that you can make at home.

“Chai is not just a drink—it is a culture in itself,” said Jaiswal. “In India, Chai is much more than a drink to begin your day with.

It has become an integral part of the culture and life of every Indian. In fact, if you take a walk around any local Indian road, you will definitely find chaiwallahs (tea sellers) steaming up a hot Masala Chai for their customers.”

Of course, Chai is somewhat different from typical black tea with a spoonful each of milk and sugar. “A regular cup of Chai in India is made by boiling water, milk, sugar and black tea together,” says Shivam. “We make our Chai as authentic as possible. We add fresh organic ginger and crushed green cardamoms in our Chai.”

This simple blend of two spices surprised me when I first tasted the tea from Chai Wagon.

“Chai making process is really very simple.

It has been made ... complicated here in the west.” The Chai blends made by the tea company I work for, for example, use many different blends of spices, including nutmeg, cloves, cinnamon, peppercorns, anise, fennel, allspice and chilli.

Jaiswal has a major pet peeve about Western Chai, aside from sugary Chai-flavoured syrups that are easily found in cafes and grocery stores. “Chai is an Indian word for tea. So when you say ‘Chai Tea,’ it sounds really weird. So I have a very humble request to all of you reading this … please forget the [term] Chai Tea, because it does not exist.”

In fact, Chai (and similar words) is the word for tea in many languages, with a few interesting exceptions, such as English. The origins of this discrepancy go back to China.

Nikhil Sonnad writes for Quartz, “The Chinese character for tea, 茶, is pronounced differently [in] different varieties of Chinese, though it is written the same in them all.

In today’s Mandarin, it is chá. But in the Min Nan variety of Chinese, spoken in the coastal province of Fujian, the character is pronounced te.”

It was these coastal areas of China and Taiwan that traded with early European merchants, so those seafarers brought back tea as well as the word that many languages now use for it, including “thé” in French and “tii” in Maori. Meanwhile, places that got their tea from anywhere else in China via the Silk Road, like Russia and India, still use the “cha” word root.

The old saying might be “for all the tea in China,” but nowadays, it might be more accurate to speak of all the tea in India, which “was the second-largest producer of tea in the world after China” in 2020, according to Sandhya Keelery for Statista. About a billion kilograms of tea were consumed within India’s borders—much of this is classic, sweet black tea known as Masala (“spiced”) Chai.

What makes Chai have such phenomenal staying power around the world, not just in its place of origin? We can talk about how dark, tannin-heavy tea plays well off of milk and sugar or how the rich spice flavours linger on the tongue. What keeps me, personally, coming back to the Chai Wagon closest to me is the warm conversations that I have with the people who make my Chai and the other people waiting in line next to me. Drinking tea by oneself is okay, but tea is made for keeping you company and making you new friends with whom to drink it.

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Overlook, BC: A Wild Ride from BC to Beirut

DAVID EUSEBIO Columnist

I lived an hour away from Canada’s Wonderland in Ontario, so when my family moved to BC, I was disappointed by the absence of a theme park—Playland didn’t cut it. However, a second theme park was once proposed in BC, but the attraction behind this story isn’t the rides—it’s the owner.

Eddy Haymour immigrated to Halifax from Lebanon in 1955, worked as a barber, married, and had children. But it was after the family moved to Peachland, BC and fell in love with Rattlesnake Island that Haymour had a vision.

through and sank the ferry.

Haymour was sued, losing his island. The BC government gave him $40,000 for the loss—it was $140,000 when he bought it.

Haymour was convinced it was a government conspiracy, but no one believed him except for a man named Ralph Schouten. He ranted to Schouten over dinner about how he “wish[ed] somebody blew up [Bennett’s] house.”

and recruited his cousins. Eight people joined Haymour armed with AK-47s and prepared to take over the embassy—but only after a few games of backgammon. On the day of the operation, they stopped for a sandwich at a deli—I guess you can’t do a hostage takeover on an empty stomach.

The group wore pantyhose over their heads and entered the embassy, approaching the unfazed passport officer.

Haymour ordered him to get down, and the Unfortunately for Haymour, Schouten was group soon held thirty-four people hostage. an informant. Haymour was taken to court All this happened without ambassador Alan again on multiple charges with no evidence: William Sullivan’s knowledge until a bullet Haymour envisioned the island as a place that conspiring to bomb Okanagan Lake bridge hit his office carpet. Haymour has a different fused Middle Eastern and Canadian culture. with Russian grenades; disfiguring his wife’s story. “No bullet was shot through any door.

Morrocan Shadou was to be decorated with face with acid; access to M16 machine guns, No bullet was shot, period.” mosques, pyramids, fountains, ice cream and contacting a former explosives expert. parlours in camel bellies, mini-golf and horse Only one charge was accepted in court: brass “I still have the bullet,” Sullivan claims. carriages. The only ride proposed was a knuckle possession. submarine approaching a talking sea monster.

Haymour asked Sullivan to come out of Peachland residents were skeptical. “[It’s] Haymour pleaded insanity—not by his his office. When he approached, Haymour impossible to bring into fruition. Almost like lawyer, but by the Crown, who likely realized kissed him on the lips. “I want[ed] to show a kid’s fantasyland.” that brass knuckles wouldn’t warrant a life them that I’m not a bad guy.” sentence but an insanity charge would lock Another resident said, “It’s always annoyed him up in a psychiatric ward for life. So, Sullivan notified Ottawa about Haymour’s me that anybody would want to take an because of brass knuckles, Haymour was embassy takeover. Haymour’s demands were aspect of the Okanagan and turn it into sent to Riverview. simple: he wanted his island, money, his something else.” children sent to Lebanon, and a psychiatrist One of Haymour’s friends found humour in to prove his sanity. That last one was a big ask The mayor saw no issue, allowing the this. “Anybody who went through what he at this point. project to continue. However, when [Haymour] went [through], he would lose Haymour bulldozed part of the island to his mind.”

The embassy was soon surrounded by a start constructing his theme park, Des Loan, hundred soldiers, but Prime Minister Pierre the Minister of Health’s brother, wanted to Haymour wanted revenge but love must have Trudeau told the army to stay out of it. Nine halt the project for environmental reasons. come first because he danced with a nurse tense hours later, Sullivan quickly fabricated BC Premier WAC Bennett listened to his before meeting a new patient smuggling a a telegram from Ottawa. He sent it from the aggravated constituents and stopped it. No hand grenade. Eleven months later, Haymour embassy’s communications centre, stating, septic or building permits were issued, and plotted to go to Victoria with the nurse and “we will do everything possible to help you Haymour’s workers were denied dock access. blow up the Legislature,but he didn’t go in your problems.” Deputy Prime Minister forward with the plan after a few dates.

Allan MacEachen’s name was used sans Haymour continued building his island, consent, but it worked as Haymour signed opening it up to the public prematurely— Onto plan B: take over the Canadian embassy the telegram. fifty people ventured to the theme park. in Beirut.

How’d visitors get on the island? A sketchy When asked if traumatizing all those people ferry shuttled people, until a storm passed He returned to Lebanon as civil war loomed was justified, Haymour answered, “We didn’t ­5 2

kill nobody, and we succeeded. So, that’s victory to everyone.”

The Lebanese Military Court charged Haymour for misdemeanour, slapping him with a $200 fine! He was allowed to return to Canada because, apparently, capturing a Canadian embassy wasn’t a crime. With federal government assistance, Haymour paid his legal expenses and faced BC Chief Justice John Farris. The court proceeding dissatisfied Haymour, so he flipped the judge the bird and bought a machine gun. When asked if he planned on killing the judge, he responded, “Yeah. What, I’m going over there to play a game or something?”

Haymour didn’t follow through, leaving the gun with his lawyer. Instead, love swooped in again when he met his second wife, Pat. On

one of their first dates, they went hunting, and she shot twenty-seven bears. Pat wasn’t impressed with Haymour’s lawyer, “That guy is as useless as tits on a boar.”

When the CBC obtained confidential documents, they gave them to Haymour to forward to his lawyer, and guaranteed that he wouldn’t lose. Haymour went to trial again with the Harvey Specter of cross-examiners: Jack Cram. One of his arguments was this: how can Haymour be deemed insane enough to go to Riverview but be well enough to sign over his island to the BC government? Valid point.

Haymour won the trial, and the BC government paid him $200,000 for his losses.

He was pleased. “At least the world knows that I was right, and that’s good enough for

me. For now.”

He used his settlement to immortalize his vision of the island as a castle hotel near Okanagan Lake. Each room had a Middle Eastern theme, and a statue of Haymour was erected on the lawn, pointing towards Rattlesnake Island, “That’s a sign to the government saying ‘You bastards, that’s my island. And will remain mine.’”

After five years, Pat left him, and he abandoned the castle. Peachland obtained it for under $16,000. To this day, Haymour continues to try reclaiming Rattlesnake Island. I’m sure John Horgan gets voicemails from him daily with his new vision for the island. “I want to make it the best cemetery in the world.”

COLUMNS

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Cyberpunk 2077 Release Gives Local Man Hope He Can Still Be Loved Despite Being Deeply Broken SARAH ROSE Features Editor VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator

Mike Jones, 29, is one of the millions of players eager to play the long-awaited Cyberpunk 2077 since it’s announcement at E3 in 2012. The dystopian game, which appreciated almost a decade of unparalleled hype, swept several prestigious Game of the Year awards leading up to a delayed and disastrous December 2020 launch.

Jones, a Metro Vancouver native, with reportedly 400 hours of playtime logged in the controversial game told reporters he had never related to anything more personally and existentially than Cyberpunk 2077. “It’s the only thing I have ever seen as profoundly broken as I am that’s still loved by millions despite its flaws,” said Jones, holding back tears.

Jones shared how his girlfriend, Samantha, broke up with him seven years ago, after two dates. He says that he too was considered “broken” by many of his close friends on various pickup artist forums. After the launch of Cyberpunk 2077, however, Jones felt renewed inspiration.

The following month after launching Cyberpunk 2077, developers watched billions casually shaved off their stock value. Similarly, Jones explained how he was “devastated” after learning through catfish accounts—used to monitor Samantha’s social media— that the 25-year-old appeared to be in a relationship with a new man named Dan. Described by Jones as “a blue-pilled soyboy beta cuck,” Dan allegedly has a full-time job and appears functional in public places without breaking down.

The 29-year-old looked weary from the dim lighting of his parent’s basement in Surrey as he pointed to a caption on one of Samantha’s Instagram posts. The caption details her appreciation for Dan listening to her concerns and making an effort to fix his problems.

“See? It’s just like Doctor Jordan Peterson says, feminism is chaos.”

“People assume that because I’m a licensed pickup artist, I don’t respect women, but it’s not true,” explains Jones. “Ready Player One taught me the perfect cyberpunk girl-next-door that caters to all my white male tokenistic fantasies is out there waiting for me, and she’ll love me despite my deep character flaws.”

From being completely emotionally stunted, to a nostalgia machine for 30-year-old genre classics, to having a 4-terabyte Polish studio CD Projekt Red went on to confirm last month hard drive of trans chaser porn involved somehow, “I just really that any racist and transphobic content that players may find in related to that,” said Jones.

Cyberpunk 2077 is just part of the plethora of countless bugs.

Amongst other well-known glitches, such as non-functional The game's release inspired Jones to start a streaming channel graphics, objects exploding and defending police officers, Jones under the username ‘Based_Kekistani_1488’ on popular platform expressed his ongoing, steadfast solidarity with the studio.

Twitch to share his views. He’s hopeful that he, too, despite “I totally get it. It’s crazy, you spend so much time trying to having a sudden inability to function if he sees a woman with a make sure every little thing about your game works and you can similar hair colour to Samantha walking within one hundred yards still get ‘canceled’ by females for, like, a casual line about crime of him, can find a supportive fanbase that find his flaws quirky and statistics that might just be a dog whistle for white supremacist appealing. Sources confirm that as of January, Jones had made talking points!” friends with popular like-minded Twitch personalities such as JonTron and PewDiePie. Dan couldn’t be reached for comment.

HUMOUR

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I won't tell you WEN ZHAI Contributor VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator

Ok I will tell you about the wild apple trees and how I raced against squirrels and ants to taste the fallen apples I will tell you about how once I treated myself with wild cherries so full that I hiccupped and how despair I was staring at the cherry tree as tall as a multi-floor building or the one hanging over the waters

I will tell you about how the poplar leaves fell and the crisp sound of them breaking away from the branches and what a dance t h e y

I will tell you about the squirrel that decided to run towards me on a narrow bridge

d I will tell you about the duck that patiently led my way on the forest path

a n c e d

I will tell you about the raccoon that approached me and stood on its hind legs to carefully observe me

a l l T h e w a y to the ground as if they were not coming to their deaths but to join a party celebrating life

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I will tell you about the grey heron that met me three days in a row on a beach at dusk Standing or walking up and down in the water meters away from me until I became confused of who was taming and who was tamed

I will tell you about the two seagulls stopped in mid-air in front of me as if inviting me to a show dropped clams on the pebble beach and cracked them open for lunch Twice on a hot summer day while I was reading barely in the shade on a bench not far away

I will tell you about how a deer casually crossed the path before me to join its friend without one bit of fear as if I was one of them Maybe I will also tell you the sound of a group of geese flapping their wings flying along the shore so low that if I wasn’t behind a tree I might be able to touch them But I won’t tell you Where all these happened No Way

LIT ER AT URE

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Virgo Aug. 24 - Sept. 23

Libra Sept. 24 - Oct. 23

scorpio Oct. 24 - Nov. 22

Sagittarius Nov. 23 - Dec. 21

Capricorn Dec. 22 - Jan. 20

Aquarius Jan. 21 - Feb. 19

Pisces Feb. 20 - Mar. 20

Aries Mar. 21 - Apr. 20

Taurus Apr. 21 - May 21

Gemini May 21 - Jun. 21

Cancer Jun. 22 -Jul. 23

leo Jul. 24 - Aug 23

Get yourself something new. It could be anything! Just make sure it fits. If you’re overthinking it, remember that your picky ass won’t like it as soon as you get home anyway, so really, anything goes.

Get a new hobby or two. Distract yourself from whatever rage you’re still holding onto from when you were five. I’m not saying to get a therapist, but you could benefit from confessing your sins to someone.

I know you’ve got your Instagram set to private (or maybe you just muted me), but I’m here to tell you it’s okay to open up. Unblock me so we can talk about your abandonment problems like real adults.

I love the energy you’re giving lately. Wearing your heart on your sleeve, I see. Whatever’s got you in a different mood these days gives you a glow that pregnancy could never. Keep it up.

Get off your ass and get a job. You don’t need this new thing or that new thing—you need health insurance.

Homemaking is in big focus for you. You can’t help it when we’ve been under lockdown on and off for quite some time, and your yellow wallpaper starts to have a new appeal.

Try talking to it.

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All’s fair in love and war—and Twitter beef.

Don’t take the things your ex says and does so personally. You don’t need to play nice.

In fact, go argue in the Vice News comment section for practice.

Go to your local Home Depot and chop some wood. Build a tiny home, then decorate it with your grandma’s heirlooms. Commit arson.

Blame your cat. Profit.

Stop throwing rocks and then hiding your hands. No more avoiding consequences, put your big boy pants on—no seriously, change pants. The ones you have on...yikes.

Health at this time may be a priority for you.

I hope you’ve been healing the way you’ve needed for so long. Consider adding this to your new regimen: a smoothie made of Red Bull, Monster, and 5-Hour Energy.

Take things slow for now, Gemini. I know you have a lot on your plate, but do you see what your cousins, Donald Trump and Azealia Banks, have been up to? Call a Gemini team meeting and fix it.

You’re quiet lately, Leo. Don’t forget your shine, baby—we love to see you glow! Except for that time you puked at the club, crying because no one bought you a drink all night, and we had to escort you home.

Ata o jan i

@___atatata___ F E AT URED A R T

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@CAPILANOCOURIER

capi lan o cou ri er VOLUME 53, ISSUE NO.6