Haul The Doctor Is Out

Diagnosing Capilano University’s lack of interest and accountability for health and accessibility services on campus

SARAH ROSE Features Editor TALIA ROUCK Illustrator

It feels like the sudden drop in a fast elevator—as if my internal organs are about to be torn from my body through my vagina. Sitting in a bathroom on the third floor of the Fir building, it hit me again. I have endometriosis—a disease where the lining of the uterus invades other areas of the body, causing various symptoms including severe pain. Although it’s one of the most common gynecological conditions, a web of medical sexism, inaccessibility, and inadequate care delay a diagnosis by seven years on average, preventing over two-thirds of patients from finding effective relief.

Pressing against my innards like I was holding in a gunshot wound with both hands, I forced myself out of the bathroom and towards the campus clinic on the third floor of the Birch Building. Stepping into the clinic is like a step back in time. At one point, Capilano University (CapU) had sports medicine and physiotherapy available on campus. Now, the beige, wood-panel trim walls lined with manilla folders and filled with the same brand of Hilroy paper used in primary schools are all that’s left. At the front desk is the nurse, Mary Ciccone, who books appointments with a pencil and paper system from the 1970s. I told Ciccone I was having an endometriosis attack and needed to lay down, and asked if there was any heat or analgesics available to get me through the episode. She turned off the light and offered Tylenol. That was all she could afford to do.

The nature of endometriosis means despite undergoing two surgeries to excise the tissue, it’s a chronic disease with no cure—that gut rending pain can strike without warning. When the clinic was unequipped to help me through the episode, I felt a different kind of anxiety about the state of health services for disabled students at CapU.

“I’ve never used [the on-campus clinic], and I honestly didn’t think it was real,” said Accessibility Justice Coordinator June Reisner. A recent review from the focus group conducted by the Capilano Students’ Union (CSU) shows that the majority of disabled students like Reisner and myself rely on external care networks, like specialists and other primary care doctors. In a campus-wide experience survey, Reisner says 11 percent of the student body reported facing inaccessibility on campus. Five percent reported physical inaccessibility and six percent reported mental health access issues. “Only five percent of respondents identified as having a disability…that’s everyone with a disability and six percent more,” said Reisner. “If [the clinic] is a service [that] students are paying for, it should be used to its fullest potential and be accessible to everyone.” Neither the Capilano Students Union (CSU) fee breakdown, the CapU mandatory fee statement, or the 2019-2020 CapU statement of financial information provide sufficient evidence or insight towards how CapU is funding the clinic and the employees. Senior Communications Officer Linda Munro declined to provide any further details.

Mary Ciccone says that the campus clinic is no different than any other walk-in clinic on the North Shore. It offers a full range of services from allergy shots and physical checkups to mental health support. Typically, from the end of March to the beginning of September the clinic closes and switches to virtual appointments that students must book over the phone on Tuesdays or Thursdays. With COVID-19 shuttering the physical campus entirely since last year, the clinic, which is only open Tuesday and Thursday, has been only booking appointments virtually through the telehealth service Doxy. Despite having no computers, or webcams, that can facilitate an online record system, let alone virtual appointments, Dr. Dawn Cheng uses her personal laptop in the clinic to keep assisting students. “There’s a lot of calls; we’re booked right up until next week,” said Ciccone.

According to Ciccone, students looking for more emergent and urgent care are a fairly small population and tend to come in with migraines or menstrual pain—adjacent to endometriosis. Ciccone says they keep a range of common medications available, “although most tend to expire before we use them,” she added, saying the clinic can’t carry stronger non-narcotic analgesics for students presenting with more severe pain. “The on-campus clinic could be a good emergency type program for students, and maybe it’s not being used to its fullest extent,” said Reisner.

Reisner reached out to Shanti Scarpetta-Lee, Vice President of Equity & Sustainability, to look into the students’ experiences with the clinic, but was unable to find corresponding information. “I don’t want to say it’s an easy gap to fill to have a more supportive system there, but there are some concrete things they could do to make it more beneficial for students that have more diverse needs…if they thought about it in a more intersectional way.”

“If there’s a gap [in care], it would be good to know where,” said Cheryl Kramer, an accessibility coordinator who has been working with accessibility services at CapU for over 20 years. Despite her years of experience working with accessibility services and coordinating with the clinic in certain cases where they help provide students with documentation of their disabilities, Kramer is still left with questions about where emergency services and the clinic intersect. The Capilano Courier reached out to the head of facilities at CapU, Ryan Blades, but has been unable to get a corresponding statement about the details of the clinic’s contract.

Kramer shares that even for those students who were able to get accommodations in primary and secondary schools, the process is more restricted in post-secondary. She added that many students are among the 17 percent of people within the province who don’t have access to a primary care provider. There isn’t a continuity of care, which is where two areas of student need for the on-campus clinic intersect. The emergence of a student residence in recent years adds another population that could be primarily served by on-campus clinic services and who may not have any other means to access care.

Between the clinic's close connection to both the student body and accessibility services, Dr. Cheng feels like there's a chance to do a lot more for the CapU community than the average walkin clinic. Especially in providing care for chronic conditions and documentation for disabled students to access accessibility supports. Despite working with the bare minimum supplies, what the small team of three do at the campus clinic is something personally meaningful for her. “I'm doing a lot more than just [treating] sore throats … I book a lot longer than any other [general practitioner] out in the community,” said Dr. Cheng.

In healthcare, there is already a pain gap. Women and those with uteruses’ pain are consistently taken less seriously than men’s. Black women, women of colour and LGBTQ+ people experience more barriers and potentially dangerous oversights. Research continues to suggest these barriers extend beyond just pain. Women with ADHD are significantly less likely to be diagnosed than their male counterparts, despite affecting both equally.

“Almost every day I work, I see one or two ADHD patients,” said Dr. Cheng, who adds that she's able to routinely do assessments and provide medications for students struggling to access care elsewhere. Another barrier she says is that the $248 a year CSU Health and Dental Plan doesn’t cover many of the medications used to treat ADHD. Dr. Cheng also provides ongoing care for former students and those who rely on her.

Like endometriosis, Kramer says that the majority of students at CapU have disabilities that are classified as invisible. Although I’ve been managing chronic pain for over a decade, I didn’t reach out to accessibility services until well into my second year, when my life began falling apart once again with the pain. A scholarship and being able to request distraction-free exam rooms helped, but it didn’t detract from the lingering heaviness I carried with me every day across campus. Disability is a weight that creeps between the lines of consent campaigns and critical discussions around racialized students. It’s not just the disabilities that seem to be invisible on campus, but a long history of erasure manifesting now as a discussion around accountability for the inaccessibility built into the fabric of CapU.

“There isn’t enough data from B.C. and [CapU] to describe the [disabled] experience for B.C. students,” Reisner said. An upcoming province-wide survey by the National Education Association of Disabled Students will be the first of its kind to look at the lived experiences of disabled students in post-secondary institutions across B.C.

The COVID-19 pandemic has unintentionally broken down some of the walls around accessibility while also creating new ones in the process, especially for disabled students. Many nonprofit organizations for ADHD are reporting sharp increases in patients seeking diagnoses and support after the switch to remote learning. This is an emerging group of students who could, without access to support whether through assessment at the clinic or medications not covered through the CSU Health and Dental Plan, potentially fall through the cracks.

“We have been asking to centralize our services for years … [and] we would like to have a psychiatrist on campus,” said Kramer, who’s used almost the same system during her two-decade tenure at CapU. Organizing support for students without resources like dedicated exam rooms for the nearly 3000 exams scheduled through accessibility services every year is not only difficult but a symptom of a bigger, longer dance between pedagogy and inaccessibility.

Remote access for classes has broadened opportunities for everyone, while also bringing under scrutiny the merit of things like no recording policies on lectures, mandatory attendance policies and outdated exam structures. “I’ve had a variety of experiences with accessibility [at CapU], both good and bad,” shared Reisner. “You only really learn about disability issues when they affect you.”

Emma Sato @emmasato

Brooke Fusick @brookefusick

Brooke Fusick @brookefusick

How the GameStop-Robinhood fiasco contributes to democratic decline

HASSAN MERALI Contributor SHARLEEN RAMOS Illustrator

In early January, a movement to invest in video game company GameStop (GME) started on the /r/wallstreetbets subreddit. They discovered that Wall Street hedge funds were short selling more GME shares than existed. It was a callous example of Wall Street greed, and investing in an underperforming company like GME just to make rich hedge fund investors lose money became a meme. However, it quickly turned from Internet meme to populist movement as Redditors banded together to invest in GME to send its stock price up.

Retail investors started buying shares of GME and other underperforming stocks, especially on the free trading app Robinhood. But when Robinhood restricted trading on so-called “meme stocks” so hedge funds could mitigate their losses, people were outraged. Robinhood billed itself as the platform of the people was saving hedge funds from losing billions. The aftermath revealed that Citadel, a major hedge fund at the centre of the GME saga, pays Robinhood for its users’ trading data. Citadel uses that data to “front-run” trades—basically, discovering what stocks regular investors are trading and then making those trades before them. Citadel and other hedge funds use highfrequency trading algorithms and have terminals on the floors of stock exchanges to get their trades in fractions of a second before regular traders can.

This type of legalized corruption is nothing new. After the 2008 financial crisis caused by the Big Banks’ greed and recklessness and their enablers in Congress, there was no accountability for the people who caused it. No Wall Street executives went to jail; instead, they got a taxpayer-funded bailout. From the banking industry’s deregulation, to the revolving door between Wall Street and the United States government, the financial elite in America have been running the show and getting away with blue murder for decades.

The GameStop-Robinhood fiasco is evidence not just of a rigged stock market but a rigged economy and political system in a country that pretends to treat everyone equally. America’s promise is that everyone is created equal and is entitled to equal justice under the law. But when Wall Street can destroy the economy with no consequences; when Amazon can make its founder the richest man in the world and treat its workers like modern day slaves; when Donald Trump and members of Congress can use their offices to make money while people die and businesses close from a deadly pandemic, there is little evidence of the promise of the equal justice promised at America’s founding. Instead, the rich and powerful benefit from a system they control while those at the bottom toil and suffer.

Make no mistake, this kind of double standard is not just stacking the deck favouring the rich economically—it is damaging to democracy. In the wake of the Capitol riot, the ascendancy of QAnon and other conspiracy theories along with the rise of far-right militias like the Proud Boys and the Oath Keepers, this is no longer an abstract threat that only academics and pundits obsess over. Americans have such little faith in the institutions that govern them that they’re turning to people like Donald Trump and conspiracy theories like QAnon in desperation to explain a system that doesn’t care about their wellbeing. Americans would rather believe that Donald Trump is a working-class hero fighting a cabal of deep state child trafficking pedophiles than face the ugly truth of a neoliberal policy consensus favouring Wall Street over Main Street. Canada is not immune from this either— many far-right groups have taken hold in Canada and are peddling their racist conspiracy theories far and wide. The Proud Boys, a prominent group on the far-right, was founded by a Canadian, and Canadians have been found to be the most active in online right-wing extremism.

We are in dangerous territory. The rejection of reality over fantasy, nativism over pluralism, and a lack of faith in public institutions create the conditions for fascism and authoritarianism to take root. The rise to power of strongmen like Trump doesn’t happen in a society where citizens believe that everyone is treated fairly; it happens in societies where regular people feel like there’s another set of rules for the rich and powerful. The GameStop fiasco may not seem like a big deal, but when the lack of accountability for elites leads to resentment among regular people, there is a lot at stake.

Geralt of Rivia is disabled. That might come as a surprise to even tried-and-true fans of The Witcher, from the wildly popular Netflix adaptation or award-winning video game series of the same name—but that’s intentional. Fans only remember a gruff, battle-hardened, yet still abled, legendary monster hunter because Geralt’s disability has been intentionally erased. In the current new wave of fair representation on screen, leaving out Geralt’s chronic pain is just another way we leave disabled people out of owning their roles as heroes.

Several of Geralt’s bones are shattered early in the series, and he escapes death through magical healing waters. The Netflix adaptation has chosen, rather controversially, to omit how he was left with chronic pain and a disability. Geralt’s disability affects nearly every aspect of his life, from mobility to being able to fight in the Wolf School swordsmanship style he spent his entire life mastering. Most importantly, there’s no magical tincture or healing water in The Witcher universe that can cure Geralt of his pain.

When stories use the convenience of ‘miracle cures’ as plot devices, they’re reinforcing the belief that disabled people will never be whole unless they are cured of their affliction. These beliefs bleed beyond the margins of fiction and shatter real disabled and chronically ill people’s self-image. Think about how deeply we collectively buy into this—Gwyneth Paltrow built a 250-million-dollar wellness empire off of it.

Disability on screen is often caught in a Sophie’s Choice between magic and tragedy—either disabled characters die or are magically cured into being abled because we can’t imagine happiness coexisting with disability. Both ends of this dichotomy are forms of erasure, and what makes The Witcher novels so important is that Geralt’s story is neither.

We’re supposed to see Geralt of Rivia as strong. He’s a loveable, reluctant hero with superhuman witcher abilities, yes, but none of that changes after becoming disabled. His story arc doesn’t revolve around a cure for his disability to make him whole again, and it isn’t written into the footnotes through magic and forgotten. The novels even draw on trueto-life understandings of chronic pain from traumatic injuries, nerve damage and arthritis. Geralt’s pain often torments him, and he seeks out ways to manage his disability, but he never stops being the powerful witcher the audience is vicariously cheering for.

Fantasy as a genre has a long history of equating bodies with morality and ultimately flawed archetypes of perfection. The classic story structure in fantasy of good triumphing over evil often upholds magical cures as a way to triumph over the perceived suffering and impurity of disability. The insidious message is not only that an abled (often white) body is the ideal form, but that it can even be a reward for working hard enough.

When I was 16, I got sick and never recovered. No number of neuroleptic drugs, surgeries or doctors telling me this shouldn’t be happening to me changed that reality. I heard “you don’t deserve this” often enough to believe that chronic pain and disability were a punishment for my own moral failing.

The screen sells people like me a pipedream of finality—no illness or disability is without just cause, let alone something permanent. The will of the universe always bends to turn disability into superpowers or absolve it completely. When that doesn’t happen, you’re left wondering why. It’s in heroes like Geralt that we’re allowed to see the truth: disabled people are strong and capable, and maybe even revered—but they are still disabled.

There are already so many reasons that make it difficult to disclose and claim our disabilities. When we fail to meet the impossible superhuman standards set for and internalized by us from the media, we cut ties with our association to the word disabled and to ourselves. Other infantilizing or outright offensive words like ‘special abilities,’ ‘gifted,’ or ‘differently abled,’ emerge as replacements for the dirty D word. Claiming disabled feels like admitting failure, when ultimately, claiming our disabled identity is the heroic act of self-acceptance and rejecting a mountain of internalized ableism.

With ongoing conversations around own-voices and accurate representations, it’s critical that disabled heroes aren’t left behind and overlooked. Erasing the disabilities and thus the identity of characters like Geralt is damaging. We deserve better—we deserve to see Geralt as disabled.

While The Witcher Showrunner Lauren Schmidt Hissrich has promised viewers to include Geralt’s disability in the forthcoming seasons, that opens up another conversation about the kind of people we’re entrusting to tell our stories.

Hissrich’s response to Twitter user @Mustangsart, a disabled fan and disability consultant who wrote about her connection to Geralt’s disability, shows just how far we still need to go to see disabled people for who they are: “I’ve read these books a dozen times…and I’ve not thought of it further than: “Geralt has some pain, onto the next thing.”

Theatres have remained closed in BC while restaurants and bars remain open. What gives?

JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer LIANN HUANG Photographer

“Our marquee says; ‘Screw the Arts, We’re a Sports Bar Now’,” announced Corinne Lea, owner of the Rio Theatre, in an interview with Globe and Mail, “and that's because the arts are getting screwed.” Just two years ago, Lea won a months-long fight to #SaveTheRio from probable demolition. Faced with the Rio’s closure for a second time, Lea said ‘fuck it’ and reopened the theatre as a bar a few days a week.

Theatres have been shut down in the province since Nov. 25, 2020, when they were classified as event spaces to decrease the spread of COVID. The period was set to last two weeks, but as is customary in the time of COVID-19, the restriction was still in place come January 2021.

The Rio’s rebranding was surprisingly straightforward once it happened. Lea decided to use the theatre’s existing liquor licence to her advantage and reopened the landmark theatre on Jan. 23 as a sports bar. The Rio COVID-19 safety operations haven’t changed much since it reopened the doors in July, except patrons must now be served food at their seats instead of at the bar. The theatre operates with reduced seating, social distancing measures and COVID-19 safety protocols. Essentially, because the Rio is screening sports instead of movies, they’ve been allowed to reopen.

The question that lingers is why are bars and restaurants open if theatres are closed? It seems an arbitrary distinction, and the Rio’s pivot emphasizes that. The province needs to revise its COVID-19 protocols—either bars and restaurants are just as dangerous and should be closed, or theatres can be reopened. Theatres already have to fight tooth and nail to stay alive against online streaming platforms, and with the announcement of HBO Max’s plan to debut new movies digitally alongside cinemas, things are looking worse still. If we truly want our cultural landmarks to stay around, then we have to protect them. Over 58,000 businesses in Canada have shuttered permanently since the pandemic began. Fearing the Rio might not survive the forced lockdown as well, Lea launched a petition to reopen her theatre in December that has since garnered over 8,900 signatures.

The Rio Theatre shouldn’t have had to rebrand as a sports bar to survive—full stop. No evidence suggests that theatres as an industry is inherently more dangerous than restaurants. In a theatre, nobody talks—well, except for those people—but masks are mandatory, and patrons are socially distanced from each other. People also face the same direction, which has been proven to lower the risk of transmission.

New Zealand is often cited for its strict yet effective COVID-19 laws, and in March 2020, the country entered a full shutdown with only 102 recorded virus cases. These harsh lockdowns have allowed an effective return to normalcy for the Kiwis. New Zealand’s system uses alert levels to differentiate between the types of lockdown. This is done so that the public knows what to expect with lockdown measures, even in a dynamic situation. Their second-highest level, alert level three, requires cinemas and restaurants to be closed to the public. At alert level two, both cinemas and restaurants are allowed to open as long as they practice COVID-19 safety protocols like social distancing.

The province needs to decide what kind of lockdown this is because as it stands, COVID-19 regulations are all over the place. If theatres are too dangerous to be open to the public, then so are restaurants and bars. But hey, the Rio Theatre’s marquee said it first and said it best:

“Arts and Culture Closed, While Bars are Still Open. F*** That Noise.”

Three days is too lenient to track and halt this virus from spreading

KATHERINE GRIFFITHS Contributor SARA NGUYEN Illustrator

Many Canadian residents are panicking about the implementation of mandatory quarantine in hotels for travellers returning to Canada from abroad. Travellers must now produce a negative COVID-19 molecular test upon arrival and quarantine for three days in a hotel at their own expense while waiting for the test results.

I am confused why people are against this policy. We are in a global pandemic! Considering all the egotistical, megalomaniac things anyone can do during this pandemic, thinking that you are beyond reproach is among the worst. There is no justification for traipsing across the globe, hopping from one country to the next without returning to quarantine. Legitimate reasons for travelling or not—no one should have the right to skip COVID-19 testing or quarantine, especially when these measures are in place for non-essential travel. In fact, three days in a hotel after choosing to travel is not enough time.

As a healthcare worker, I see everything— the grandparents and parents who contracted COVID-19 from their careless relatives; the people who decided to go to a superspreader party; the healthcare workers who were doing their job and were exposed to coronavirus. The virus does not discriminate against hosts and seems to enjoy travelling as much as everyone else does. So, while you decide whether or not to destress from this pandemic by hopping on a plane, COVID-19 is doing the same. There are new variations of the virus popping up, and we are seeing them all right here in Canada. Without travel, these variants would not be present—so why is everyone fighting against policies that will keep us safe?

Even with a three-day hotel quarantine and mandatory COVID-19 molecular testing, we are not keeping our borders 100 per cent safe. The virus replicates by invading its host’s cells and creating a tiny army of COVID-19 with your body as the battleground. Basically, this pandemic’s banana bread phase is based on the real-life story of COVID-19 and its replication cycle. It sits around, assembling the ingredients, and bakes until there are hundreds of little COVID-19 treats in your body. Molecular tests are looking for the viral load—or how many banana bread loaves have been made and put-on display, ready to be consumed by others. This is where the virus can start infecting other people—a bread crumb trail, if you will.

The issue surrounding only a three-day quarantine starts here. The virus waits for the right time to begin replicating, which means that the viral load may not be detectable right away. So, if you fly into Canada from your relaxing getaway, get swabbed right away, and have your threeday mandatory quarantine, you may get that coveted negative result and move on with your life. However, suppose five days later, the virus amps up its replication, and you start shedding the virus. In that case, you can become infectious despite your negative test result.

This three-day quarantine does not cover the virus’s lifespan, and Canada is too hasty to let non-essential travellers rejoin the population after such a short quarantine. The virus is playing the long game and can outlast those three days easily. Once you have gone on your merry way from the quarantine hotel, the virus might decide it is time to party in a new country and make its illustrious debut. If the viral load becomes detectable after that initial swab, you will now be positive but interacting with everyone none the wiser— even if it’s only those in your own house— while COVID-19 might be sharing its freshly baked “banana bread” with the world.

While I agree that quarantine hotels should be implemented for non-essential travellers returning to Canada, I do think that we should have stricter precautions in place. We want to keep Canada safe, and when travelling is a choice, there need to be policies in place on how to keep it that way. COVID-19 has already proven to be a cunning little virus, and we need to step up our game if we want to beat it.

Based on a book series by Haisla and Heiltsuk author Eden Robinson, CBC’s Trickster premiered to raving reviews in October 2020. The show was hailed as groundbreaking for its raw, authentic, contemporary Indigenous storytelling with a “supernatural” twist. After its release, the television series was quickly renewed for a second season and picked up for streaming and distribution outside of so-called Canada. But celebrations were short-lived when the Indigenous identity of director, co-creator and co-executive producer Michelle Latimer was questioned. Latimer, who claimed to be mixed French, Métis, and Algonquin with ties to the community of Kitigan Zibi, had her relationship to Kitigan Zibi denied by the community and was revealed to have based her Indigenous identity on unfounded claims.

As someone who is mixed Indigenous (to so-called Mexico), hearing the news of Michelle Latimer shook me up quite a bit. Not only because it sent me on a downward spiral of feeling like I was an imposter for being mixed, displaced, and de-tribialized, but also because the future of one of my favourite shows hung by a thread. Once January came around, and news of the show’s cancellation started to flood social media, I was absolutely heartbroken. Perhaps some people don’t understand why the show’s cancellation is such a big deal. At the end of the day, it’s just a TV show, right? Wrong. It’s so much more than that.

Seeing Indigenous stories honoured beyond so-called “relics of the past” spoke to me on a deep level. Even if these weren’t my stories, it was life-changing to see other Indigenous narratives shown so prominently and in such a real way. I truly don’t have words to describe it. All I can say is that it gave me hope.

Like many fans of the show, I understand that Robinson’s trust was deeply violated—as was the trust of many Indigenous communities involved in the production, and Indigenous peoples to Turtle Island overall. However, when Latimer resigned, others who were part of Trickster, such as the cast and crew, were willing to continue with the project. According to main cast member

Why the premature end of the show Trickster shouldn’t have happened

EMMA MENDEZ Contributor WHESS HARMAN Illustrator

Crystle Lightning, the show’s cancellation was not a cut and dry decision like many initially thought. On her Instagram, Lightning stated, “the CBC article announcing that there will be no season 2 made it seem like we all talked and mutually came up with the conclusion that they should cancel. Not true. It’s only fair you all should know.” Since the show’s cancellation, petitions have circulated online in an effort to save the show. But will it be enough? Or is cancelling Trickster the responsible thing to do? While maybe some people agree with the decision, I believe that Trickster should not have been cancelled.

The show’s cancellation was deeply devastating for everyone involved, for Indigenous peoples globally, and especially to the Indigenous peoples living in so-called Canada and Turtle Island. The cancellation took away Indigenous representation that was authentic, killed a truly powerful project that could have completely changed the industry and culture on a deep level, and punished the Indigenous cast, crew, as well as the Indigenous audience. With so much actual Indigenous talent out there, why was no one else brought on in place of Latimer? Or if it was an issue of trust with CBC, why not attempt to find another network or platform?

Cancelling it because of Latmier not only lets whiteness dictate the fate of the show and everything it meant, but it also gives power to whiteness—to the cis-hetero, capitalist, patriarchal, colonial system that for centuries has done everything it can to suppress stories like Trickster. So in the end, who really won?

I still have hope that this is not the end. I believe Trickster ignited the fire of possibility and I don’t think we’ll ever let it be extinguished again. I have hope that we won’t let the system win the next time this happens (and unfortunately, there will be a next time). I have hope that next time we’ll fight for Indigenous stories.

Academic Freedom does not mean no-accountability

MAIA LOMELINO Contributor VALERIYA KIM Staff Illustrator I remember being in my first term at CapU, fresh off the plane, still thinking Canada was the land of unicorns and rainbows. Like many first-year students at Capilano University (CapU), I enrolled in the required ENGL100 class—that's where my eyes were opened to the problem of using academic freedom as an excuse for reproachable behaviour by an instructor.

We discussed a very triggering topic to me— feminism and the porn industry—that put me in tears. Many weeks later, after trying to talk to the professor about what happened and being refuted with the academic freedom argument and a good old dose of veiled sexism and gaslighting, I realized that what happened was not academic freedom. My instructor used academic freedom to shield their sexist—and later xenophobic—behaviour and ideas. They were trying to justify their microaggressions towards me as their liberty to teach. This is not the only instance of this.

Academic freedom is "a scholar's freedom to express ideas without risk of official interference or professional disadvantage." I wholeheartedly agree with this sentiment, but what do you do when the term is used by faculty as smoke and mirrors to distill sexism, homophobia, racism, transphobia, xenophobia and ableism? Is it fair that faculty members use this noble concept to avoid being held accountable for many prejudiced forms?

I come from Brazil, a country that had a 21-year Military Dictatorship where professors were arrested for speaking their minds against the government. There would be military infiltration among students in universities to police classes—one would never know when "they" would come for you. If they did, you would face imprisonment and possibly torture. I often see people justifying their xenophobic (or racist, sexist, ableist, etc.) behaviour by claiming freedom of speech, but freedom of speech means the ability to speak out against your government without repercussions. It doesn't mean making discriminatory remarks or actions without consequences.

No one is saying professors and instructors should not have the right to teach delicate or controversial subjects, but we should not allow "academic freedom" to become a "get out of jail free card." Please teach us the hard things, teach us the nasty stuff, but be mindful that you are dealing with humans. Be mindful that generational trauma exists, that personal traumas exist. Debating or dismissing someone's human rights is triggering and wrong. Our generation is not made of sensitive “snowflakes”; we are the ones that spoke up to say, "Enough, I shouldn’t have to go through this pain if it can be avoided." And I say enough—academic freedom without accountability is bullshit.

No, using slurs is not academic freedom; relativizing Nazism is not academic freedom; disrespecting another’s culture is not academic freedom. Facilitating environments where students feel emboldened to make discriminatory remarks is also not academic freedom. The time has come for faculty to go through mandatory anti-oppression training as part of their jobs. It’s time to understand their students and peers from the so-called minorities' difficulties and time to answer for their bad behaviour in class. In my case, all my instructor accomplished was to push me away from class. I stopped attending and only showed up for presentations and tests. Maybe if I reduced my time in the classroom, I would be less susceptible to feeling attacked again. Every class after the first incident contributed to my realization that the instructor used misconceptions and their own bias continuously in class.

This was the first time I was subjected to xenophobia in Canada. In a classroom that is supposed to facilitate open thinking by a professor that dismissed the entire history of literature from my country as silly. Let that sink in. I got a bad grade, but my GPA is not more important than me being at peace, having my identity and culture dismissed and belittled, and not having anxiety attacks before entering the classroom.

I love learning, and I believe that being a teacher, an instructor, or a professor is one of the world’s noblest professions. To be the one that shares knowledge, that instructs and guides students is a beautiful thing and should be preserved, but not at the cost of students' mental health. Academic freedom should not be used as a "blank check," and this means respecting the students.

aMY Asin @amy_asin_

aMY Asin @amy_asin_

CAM LOESCHMANN Columnist

As a tea drinker, there is a special kind of joy in buying a new teapot. You have your tea, you have your cup, but there’s something about brewing in a pot that makes the tea experience perfect. I prefer a glass vessel, so I can see what the leaves are up to in there. The capacity has to be under a litre because I take a long time to drink a cup of tea and I don’t want the second cup getting bitter or cold while I’m still working on the first. As a tea seller, I can say for certain that my experiences are far from universal. From stoneware pots the size of my head—that need an extra handle above the spout in order to hold its weight when full—to tiny, fragile bone china sets that hold enough for a single cup and no more, every pot has someone who thinks it’s perfect.

It is the tiniest of the tiny teapots that we will be looking at today. If you have ever seen small clay teapots at a Chinese teaware shop, a Westerner like myself might wonder why one would bother with such a small pot. Can the tea leaves even fit in the mouth of such a small pot? But, these pots are perfect for a type of tea brewing that is almost the opposite of the typical Western method. This is called Gong Fu Cha, which roughly translates to Highly Skilled Tea.

Western tea brewing varies from person to person, but most often it looks like this: a small amount of leaves, five to fifteen grams, and a steeping time of about two to five minutes. As tea is drunk, more water might be added, until teatime is over or the leaves lose their flavour. This method is wonderful for the 21st century and our busy lives. I can pour the water, do any number of small tasks that build up during the day, and come back to a perfect cup of tea. Gong Fu brewing works in an entirely different way. It is a ceremony that one takes time out of their life to complete. Daniel Liu of The Chinese Tea Shop in Downtown Vancouver has written extensively about this process. He says: “Gong Fu Cha is as much about escaping the pressures of life for a few moments as it is about enjoying every drop of tea.” Every aspect of the tea brewing process is controlled, and from the beginning to the end the brewer must keep their focus solely on the tea and their guests.

The most noticeable characteristic of Gong Fu brewing is how the tea is steeped quickly, over and over, with much more tea (often up to a third of the brewing vessel is just the leaves), adding ten or fifteen seconds to the brew time with every steep. The reason for this, according to Shang Tea in Kansas City, Missouri, is “when you brew using this method, you get to taste each individual layer of the tea, each of which will have a different, unique flavor profile.” Steeping all at once loses distinction between layers of tea and reduces it to one flavour profile.

With Gong Fu brewing, lots of leaves are brewed repeatedly for short amounts of time in a tiny vessel. This is just one way that every single variable in brewing tea is controlled precisely during the brewing. The teapot itself, of course, is vital to the process. The type of teapot has a profound effect on the taste of the finished tea.

Yixing teapots, named for the “pottery capital” of China from where they originate, are made from a slightly porous clay that holds onto flavours between brews. For this reason these teapots are each reserved for only one type of tea, such as green, black (known as red in China) or puerh.

“With continued use, a layer of tea sediment forms and one is actually brewing tea within tea. This is ideal for enhancing the flavor, color, and aroma.” This is from an online resource that was the first in the world to sell authentic Yixing teaware online.

During the Ming Dynasty (1368-1644 CE) the art of making Yixing teapots was developed. Before the Ming Dynasty, Chinese tea looked a lot more like matcha. Steeping tea from the leaf as opposed to suspending the powdered tea in water opened up opportunities for more specialised pots and teas. “Yixing enjoyed long periods of prosperity during the Ching Dynasty (1644-1911 CE). During the early Republic (1911-1938) Yixing wares were exported in quantity to Japan, Southeast Asia, Europe, and the United States of America. The great turmoil of war and revolution in China during the 1930s and 1940s brought the manufacturing of Yixing teapots to a halt.” Only in recent decades has the art of Yixing teaware flourished again.

The ancient art of Chinese tea could fill many libraries. Hopefully this brief overview offers some insight into what can be a daunting topic of study. For further reading, I suggest Warren Peltier’s The Ancient Art of Tea. However, studying and contemplating tea will only take one so far. In the words of Lu Yü’s Ch’a Ching, (“The Classic of Tea”), “There are no shortcuts. Merely to pick tea in the shade and dry it in the cool of the evening is not to manufacture it. To nibble it for flavour and sniff at it for fragrance is not to be discriminating … taking prodigious amounts of tea in summer and none at all in winter are not drinking tea.”

In other words, think about your tea, but also simply drink and enjoy it. Drink enough to fall in love with it repeatedly. Drink what tastes good to you—simply drink. This is skilled brewing of tea.

DAVID EUSEBIO Columnist

When I moved to BC, I stepped up my hiking game. I didn’t have a chance to explore Ottawa’s trails, but it would be hard to top BC’s. I’ve done the Grind and the Chief. One day, I hope to hike the West Coast Trail at Pacific Rim National Park.

Many people from around the world come to tackle this five-to-seven-day hike. For Nellie Cashman, this would equate to a stroll in Stanley Park. It doesn’t compare to the 77day journey she took from Victoria to Dease Lake. Since my last column was about an antiheroic man, I thought this time I’d write about a heroic woman.

Nellie Cashman was a prospector, miner, philanthropist, and entrepreneur. Born in 1845 in Ireland, her family immigrated to the United States during the gold rush and settled in San Francisco. She remained unmarried throughout her whole life, annoyed whenever asked about her marital status.

“Men are a nuisance anyhow, now aren’t they? Men, why child, they’re just boys grown up. I’ve nursed them, embalmed them, fed and scolded them, acted as mother confessor and fought my own with them, and you have to treat them just like boys.”

At 29, Nellie grew bored of the Golden City and headed to Oregon with miners to go prospecting. However, Oregon wasn’t their calling, and there was a divide for where to go next. Some wanted to go to British Columbia; others to South Africa. When they couldn’t settle the argument, they resolved the dispute in a civilized manner.

“We tossed up a coin, heads for South Africa, tails for British Columbia.”

That’s how Nellie ended up in Canada. The mining scene at Cassiar County attracted Nellie to settle in Dease Lake. While her accompanying prospectors went off to mine for gold, she established a boarding house and saloon. She quickly grew bored of that, and learned a new skill: mining!

She prospected for the first time along the creeks while she continued to run her business—a strategic decision as she was able to eavesdrop on residents who talked about suitable places for mining. They probably thought she couldn’t understand them. Well, she bought those claims up instantly and began profiting. Soon, she’d be heading for Wall Street.

Just kidding. But she began to profit from others by helping people buy claims around the area. She didn’t strike gold, but her boarding house flourished. In fall 1874, she treated herself with a winter trip to Victoria and planned to return to the Cassiar in the spring. At Fort Wrangell, she boarded the SS Californian, which carried $300,000 in gold dust—part of that belonged to Nellie. Heavy fog at Nanaimo halted the steamer, so Nellie thought, ‘screw it,’ and canoed her way down to Victoria. What a badass.

She was enjoying her time in Victoria when news broke out from the Cassiar that miners were facing harsh winter conditions, preventing people from leaving and stopping goods from reaching them through the mountains. It was reported that about 75 men were trapped in a mining camp and were suffering from scurvy. Nellie didn’t hesitate and prepared to journey north to help them.

Nobody believed she would make it and the North-West Mounted Police (NWMP, currently known as the RCMP) refused to help her. It couldn’t have been easy to convince anyone to journey north—I can barely convince my family to go for walks when it’s overcast. She somehow convinced six men to hike with her. They were very loyal.

“The ‘boys’ would sure see to it that anyone who ever offered to insult me could never be able to repeat the offence.”

I wonder how they felt when they all got friend-zoned. Ready to go, Nellie was about to experience her first winter in the northern interior.

The group sailed to Fort Wrangell with 1500 pounds of food, plenty of potatoes and lime juice to cure the men’s scurvy. The weight was divided among the group—Nellie carried about 200 pounds of stuff, including two blankets for the winter nights. The Stikine Trail grounds were too soft and deep to use dog sleds, so the group went on foot. But they had snowshoes! Despite that, the team faced … challenges.

The trail got lost under banks of snow, forests were dense, and the winds were icy. They experienced snow blindness, frostbite and numbness. The crew frequently encountered packs of wolves and bears in hibernation. Some days, the conditions were so harsh that the group could only travel eight kilometres—what a pleasant vacation.

One morning, an avalanche swept Nellie

away from her campsite, and she got buried in the snow. One of the men woke up to make coffee and noticed she wasn’t around. Panicked, the men searched for her and found her half a kilometre away. She had dug herself out, patted the snow off her shoulders, and continued her day.

By late-January, the commander of Fort Wrangell heard about the group and sent soldiers to find them. They were certain the prospectors were dead, so the soldiers searched for their bodies. Instead, they found Nellie by the frozen Stikine River, cooking supper over a fire and humming merrily. She was happy to have company. She gave them food and tea before politely telling them to piss off.

The team continued to endure the harsh winter conditions without shelter or blankets—I guess that avalanche was nothing to shrug off. However, the miners of Dease Lake received a pleasant surprise when Nellie and her men arrived in late February to save them. The Daily British Colonist lauded Nellie’s “extraordinary freak [sic] of attempting to reach the diggings in midwinter.”

Her achievement granted her the nickname “Angel of the Cassiar.” She was respected by the miners who stood up and acknowledged her whenever she entered a saloon. She continued running her boarding house until the mining stream died in the area, and freezing temperatures likely became unbearable. So, she tossed a coin and went to Arizona.

JAYDE ATCHISON Columnist

If I were to win any award as a modern 21stCentury woman, it would be the “One-Date wonder” champion of the world. At this point, I have started to examine when the planets physically align because maybe that is the secret to a successful evening with a potential love interest. However, as much as I would like to experience dates that inspire a second, I have an overwhelming fondness for my bad dates because they produce the best party anecdotes.

Location, activity, personality and chemistry create a mix that can make or break the initial impression on a first date. When COVID-19 recently entered the chat, I became stricter on who I was willing to give a chance in person, but pre-pandemic, I would agree to go out with most of the guys I matched with on dating apps. My philosophy was to give everyone a chance because not everyone can create bomb profiles—maybe they would wow me in real life.

In 2014, mere minutes after sitting down, my date made an alarming derogatory slur about lesbians. I was so caught off guard. I thought I had misheard and waited to see if he would redeem himself. I sat through him snapping at the servers, ordering me more wine without asking if that's what I wanted and incessant bragging about how he was an engineer. He asked me questions that began with “hypothetically, when we sleep together…” and suggested we do some very obscene things. When he uttered another “gay joke” as we left the bar, I snapped and called him out on how ridiculous he sounded. He offered to cab me home and I said I would rather walk. He took that to mean with him, so I had to endure 15 more blocks before we finally went our separate ways. I sprinted into a boiling hot shower and was tempted to bleach my brain through my ear canals and burn the jacket he hugged. Holding the world champion title of SerialFirst-Dater comes with some wisdom on how to eject yourself from a wide range of scenarios. When I was a bright-eyed young singleton, I would stay until the server practically begged us to leave because I didn’t want to be rude. I believed there was good in everyone, and that if I stayed for half an hour longer, the person sitting across from me might turn into Prince Charming. After roughly 197 dates, I have since realized if you are not feeling a connection within the first 30 minutes, there likely will never be one.

If I could go back in time, I would wait in the bathroom for the moment past-me broke the seal from all that unsolicited wine. I would grab her by the shoulders and demand she grow a backbone, pay her tab and leave the guy to finish his craft beer alone with his hypotheticals. In the past few years, I have seen a surge of female empowerment that says fuck being polite if that’s not what the situation calls for. Ten years ago, I didn’t have that bad bitch energy flowing through me, and it took far too long of being meek and mild to realize it wasn’t benefiting me or my love life.

Along with the possibility that my suitor could be sexist, racist or rude to servers, there is also the chance that my date has life-threatening ulterior motives. Millennials were constantly told growing up never to meet strangers from the internet, and yet here we all are, disobeying all our parents' advice and calling it romance. In 2019, I started to have an escape plan for every date because I wanted to be ready for all worstcase scenarios. Before I put on my favourite first date sweater, I will send screenshots of my date's picture, name and the location of the date to my best friend. I have permanently shared my location through iMessage, so I am easily tracked. Some people might think this is too dramatic, but after watching one too many crime docs, I consider this the perfect level of drama.

Having an exit strategy is crucial for a first date. This can be utilized by meeting in obnoxiously public areas, setting a time limit that you can “cancel” if the date is going well or having a friend pick you up when requested. I will often tell someone I can meet for a drink or a walk, but the “I have a work call in two hours” makes the date short and endurable if it is not going well, but it can mysteriously be cancelled last minute if we end up vibing.

On certain occasions, I feel comfortable enough to sip on one cocktail and call it an evening with a polite but firm, “thank you for joining me for drinks, but I’m not feeling a spark.” However, on a bright July afternoon in 2019, I went on a date that left me using my emergency call. When he stood up and greeted me, I realized he last used a toothbrush when it was shaped like a purple dinosaur. His teeth were grimey and covered in brown stains from years of oral neglect. I made a snap judgement that our lifestyles didn’t align, but I stayed for one drink to see if he was a good conversationalist, and to prove to myself that I wasn’t that shallow. After this man talked about nazis for 12 minutes longer than any human should, I texted my friends to call me IMMEDIATELY with an emergency—crying was encouraged. I rushed off the Kitsilano patio, drove to the nearest drug store, bought 30 feet of floss and used it all in one go. I chickened out and sent a vague “I’m not ready to date yet” message that night, which wasn’t ideal, but hey, I’m only human.

HASSAN MERALI Columnist

Every student has taken a proctored exam before. Tests usually take place in the presence of a teacher, who supervises to ensure that nobody cheats. Normally, coordinating this isn’t much of an issue, but having people in the same room together isn’t possible in the middle of a pandemic. For post-secondary institutions (PSIs), this poses a problem: how do we ensure academic integrity when most students are taking tests from home?

This problem stems from the current philosophical framework of academic integrity that most PSIs follow regarding testing—to see how much a student has learned, they shouldn’t have access to course material that would help them answer exam questions. Of course, there are numerous problems with this framework. Failing to take into account various learning styles imposes a burden on all students, which is felt harder by those with disabilities. But putting those problems aside, what has come from an innocent place of wanting to preserve academic integrity has led PSIs down a slippery slope into student surveillance.

Proctoring software companies use a mix of monitoring techniques to provide assurance that students taking online tests aren’t cheating. Most will require remote access to various parts of the student’s computer; this can include the camera, microphone, screen, keyboard, and the computer itself. Access to the computer’s camera allows a proctor to watch the student in real time. Before a test, students need to confirm their identity with photo ID and show the proctor their workspace to ensure they aren’t using course material during the exam. Access to the microphone allows the proctor to hear if the student is talking to someone out of view. Remote access to the student’s computer allows the proctor to view what’s happening on their screen. In addition to live observation, proctoring companies employ different types of automated software, including facial recognition for identity verification, gaze-monitoring to track students’ eye movements, and keystroke analysis to look for discrepancies in typing patterns.

These software companies try to catch students cheating by flagging what they call “suspicious events.” For example, if a student’s eyes look away from their screen for more than a few seconds, it’s deemed suspicious; if this happens as little as twice a minute, it can be flagged as a suspicious event. Most companies use algorithms to determine whether a student’s suspicion score is too high. A recording of a student’s exam can be forwarded to their teacher for review. Some companies will employ a “live interventionist” to step in during the test if they suspect the student is cheating.

These companies end up capturing reams of intensely personal and highly valuable data from test takers in the process. Proctoring companies collect biometric data, such as recordings of a student’s voice, face, and behavioural characteristics like typing patterns. They collect personally identifiable information, such as a student’s name, address, phone number, educational affiliation, and scans of government documents like driver’s licenses. They also collect information about the student’s device like IP address, operating system, device ID, Internet Service Provider, a record of websites visited and how long they were visited for. In BC, most PSIs are public sector institutions, and are required to abide by the Freedom of Information and Protection of Privacy Act when collecting and handling student data. Because proctoring companies are private companies in an unregulated space, they aren’t subject to such regulation. The way these companies handle student data is up to each company’s individual privacy policy, which is subject to change at any time. Some companies have time limits on data retention, but others don’t. Most companies say they use industry best practices to secure data, but that didn’t stop hackers from gaining access to hundreds of thousands of student records from one of the biggest proctoring companies in the industry. Most companies also claim they won’t sell student data to third parties, but there’s no law forbidding it. Because public health orders have made online exams the only option, students are forced to accept the proctoring software terms and conditions or fail their class.

Proctoring software raises a myriad of concerns surrounding accessibility and equity. Not everyone has the type of quiet, solitary, closed off environment that these companies expect. Also penalized are students who can’t stare at a screen for two to three hours in complete silence. As I wrote about in my first column, students are experiencing extraordinary amounts of screen time, causing increases in Computer Vision Syndrome. This kind of monitoring discriminates against students with disabilities that have a hard time keeping their attention focused on a screen. It also discriminates against students who don’t have documentation recognized by these services, or the technology necessary to run proctoring software. Some proctoring

companies also force students to pay fees to access the software. Like all surveillance mechanisms, proctoring software marginalizes students with disabilities and students with access to limited resources.

Students may or may not be able to see the proctor invigilating them, but the proctor cvvaan see them and their immediate surroundings through the webcam. This is the type of surveillance that was used in prisons designed by Jeremy Bentham. French sociologist Michel Foucault wrote extensively about Bentham’s panopticon, a prison where all of the inmates could be seen by a single guard, who himself could not be seen by anyone. According to Foucault, because inmates never knew whether or not they were being watched, they had to selfregulate their behaviour under the threat of constant surveillance. Current proctoring software uses the same surveillance methods to force students to self-regulate their behaviour.

The rise of proctoring software was well under way before the pandemic, but the increased use of the services has been exponential due the sudden necessity of remote learning. For now, Capilano University doesn’t seem to be one of those interested, but an alarming amount of PSIs are already using proctoring software. I sympathise with post-secondary administrators and faculty who have been thrust into an impossible situation during this pandemic, and are trying their best to preserve academic integrity. However, we cannot condone the type of surveillance used in proctoring software. Their monitoring techniques are invasive and violate student privacy. The proliferation of proctoring software represents an unacceptable invasion into the private sphere of student life.

Danielle Adams @lasnorgs

JOSS ARNOTT Staff Writer THEA PHAM Illustrator

Local Capilano University (CapU) first-year general studies student Barry Rich reportedly just mansplained Plato’s Allegory of the Cave to his entire Philosophy 102 class over Zoom. Though unconfirmed, rumours seem to suggest that his analysis was completely incorrect. “I still don’t know what the Platonic ideal form is supposed to be, but it sure as shit doesn’t involve insufferable pricks,” said fellow classmate Olivia Kowalski. “I can only hope there’s an eternal perfect version of this class where Rich shuts the fuck up.”

The incident occurred sometime after the class’s first five-minute break and is said to have lasted for approximately 12 excruciating minutes. The instructor, Mr. Rider was apparently unable to intervene on account of him taking a nap during the class discussion. Mr. Rider later reported that his actions were in fact a demonstration of Descartes’ argument from dreams and not the result of a thoroughly hot boxed office as was previously believed.

Fellow classmate Farnia Patel admitted that her computer was muted for the entirety of the classes discussion, “I just couldn’t keep listening to [Rich] say the word ‘dialectical’.”

“Rich’s behaviour is a textbook example of someone who is extremely insecure in their intelligence,” remarked CapU trained psychologist Susan Melania who, without prompting, added that: “Rich is probably just compensating for something.” All 30 of the accused’s classmates have been offered free counselling to work through the incident, though it’s unclear if they’ll ever fully recover. It’s estimated that of the ten students who were actually paying attention to class when Rich began his tirade, three will suffer permanent trauma relating to the platonic forms. Rich commented to reporters that much like the titan of classic Western philosophy, his first girlfriend left him for Creative Writing student Alex Wagner. The alleged ‘dumping’ is rumored to have occurred sometime after Wagner wrote a poem for the accused’s former girlfriend. “All I need to know about The Republic is that the ideal city would ban poets,” Rich explained while choking back tears. The general studies student then launched into a poorly explained fifteen minute long explanation on Diogenes’s critique of Plato. He is quoted as comparing Wagner to a “bald ass chicken,” and badly misinterpreting Russell’s paradox.

Kowalski added: “Who knows if there is an objective reality, at this point the only Platonic solid I care about is Rich just shutting the fuck up.”

Here's to the women who’ve had their strength stripped from them, the ones who treat everyone right but somehow get treated so wrong.

To the women who forget that their hearts still radiate light before the sun itself comes up, because they were told their bodies could never hold such things.

Here's to the women who lose every battle, not because they are weak, but because the world brings guns to every fist fight.

To the women who lose every argument, not because they are wrong, but because the purest of hearts are the ones that get pulled the most, and the softest voices are the ones that get convinced otherwise.

Here's to the women who've forgotten they are beautiful, because the mirrors people put in front of them are not and never will reflect the majestic beings that they are.

To the women who continue to get out of bed in the morning despite having every reason not to, the ones who reach into their bag and pull out a smile to wear for the day.

Here’s the women who continue to bloom and grow despite being buried in dry soil.

Here's to you.

MAYSA SHARIFI Contributor GERALDINE YARIS Illustrator

Virgo Aug. 24 - Sept. 23 This month, you gotta work on your anxiety. Close your eyes. Pretend you’re on an island far, far away. You’re on Jersey Shore. Snooki just got arrested and you’re tasked with paying bail. Are you still anxious?

scorpio Oct. 24 - Nov. 22 Tender as your heart may be, you strike fear in people. I know you like to hear that, but dial it back. Your crush thinks the bar is haunted when you’re present. You love that, but stop.

Capricorn Dec. 22 - Jan. 20 When in doubt: stop, drop, and roll. Stop playing yourself. Drop and give me 50. Dollars. Roll with the big dogs as you seem to like to, but know your place! Follow these instructions or you’ll get burned.

Pisces Feb. 20 - Mar. 20 Hug yourself sometime soon. You deserve some comfort. Don’t let that one really embarrassing thing you did that one time become your Joker origin story. Maybe they didn’t notice. Maybe.

Taurus Apr. 21 - May 21 Haters are your motivators. And that’s fax, no printer. My only advice is to start posting thirst traps with reckless abandon. You got this.

Cancer Jun. 22 -Jul. 23 I hope you are staying healthy. Do not absorb the negative vibes around you to make others more comfortable—Feel your feelings. I’ll share your pain, so let’s be emo together. Rawr. </3 Libra Sept. 24 - Oct. 23 Start journaling again. Think about how you may have tried to fly without wings and fell. Rewind back to dissect times when someone you were addicted to was toxic and you slipped under. And most importantly, rewatch that Chris Crocker video. You know the one. #FreeBritney.

Sagittarius Nov. 23 - Dec. 21 Follow that big ol’ mouth of yours. You were born with a sharp wit. A wise Sagittarius once said, “Okay, I think it’s time to put this ***** on his sideburns”. By association, all Sagittariuses are Barbz and for that, you’re not lucky—you’re blessed! Yes!

Aquarius Jan. 21 - Feb. 19 Have you ever noticed that how the for say to want as will and was to not be? Really? So wild that you and I are the only people who get that. This month, you’ll feel bright like a match; consuming the darkness in a small room.

Aries Mar. 21 - Apr. 20 You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be held against you. No, but seriously—you don’t have to talk. And if you promised to stop tomorrow, I would use my life’s savings to buy your silence permanently.

Gemini May 21 - Jun. 21 The girls are fighting! And by the girls, I mean you and the 8 people living in your head. Try to get them to sit down by doing quiet activities at home this month. Keep that same energy with Three 6 Mafia as background music instead.

leo Jul. 24 - Aug 23 Being a Leo is not an accomplishment, but that has not stopped you from treating it as such. Embrace the absurd. Move towards the unknown. I’m not saying to do anything illegal, but you are an adult, make that decision yourself.

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VOLUME 53, ISSUE NO.7