Volume 46, Issue 1

Speak up, grannies! In metros and in the streets, Montreal’s older women activists are fighting for peace

Yasmine Chouman

In a bustling metro station, I am on a mission to find RoseMary Whalley—an 82-year-old anti-war activist.

A few months ago, I briefly interviewed her for a radio show about her decades of activism. Her story stuck with me—I wanted to know more.

Amongst the sea of people, I recognize her by her little stature and purple hat. There she is, leaning on her cane and reading a book.

To the naked eye, she may just look like any other older woman.

But she is full of stories.

Whalley has been protesting against the use of nuclear weapons for nearly seven decades. At just 14 years old, she was marching the streets of England for the Ban the Bomb movement every weekend.

“A lot of people go to parties when they're young,” Whalley says, “but I went to demos.”

After we walk up and down St. Denis St., she takes me to this quaint vegan buffet.

“I’ve been [protesting] for a hell of a long time,” she says, taking a bite of her food.

After over six decades of protesting outside grocery stores and marching in the streets, Whalley’s energy may be worn—but her spirit isn’t.

She hands out flyers about Canada’s complacency with the war in Gaza three times a week at different metro stations with two other older women.

One of these women, Laurel Thompson, is considered by Whalley to be “the boss” of the group. Thompson is 88 years old, but fierce as ever.

Many of the older women activists we see marching the streets today were once the courageous young activists of the '60s.

They are fighting the fight decades later, but this time with greyer hair, slower steps and more wisdom.

They are called the silent generation, but they are pretty loud about social justice. In 2018, 32 per cent of elders from the silent generation volunteered in some form of activism, averaging 222 hours a year, according to Statistics Canada.

After retirement, older women who are passionate about social justice have been dedicating their time to using their voice for change.

For Whalley and Thompson, this passion of theirs has only grown stronger since they first started protesting in the '60s—the era of revolution.

The student movements of this time came

together in protest against the Vietnam War, and for environmental issues, the women’s rights movement, civil rights and gay rights.

At the time, Whalley focused her activism on opposing war and banning nuclear weapons.

“I grew up knowing the horrors of war,” Whalley says, her eyes turning red and teary, “so doing activism is a no-brainer.”

Genocide and war are not unfamiliar subjects in Whalley’s family.

Many of her family members were murdered in concentration camps, including her grandmother.

Her mother, a Holocaust survivor, fled Berlin, where she met Whalley’s father in England—a British soldier who fought in one of the most violent battles of World War I, the Battle of the Somme.

This family history shaped her worldview and fuels her urgency today.

In today’s political climate, particularly with the ongoing genocide in Palestine, she feels it is her duty to speak out now, perhaps more than ever.

Whalley has never been in a situation where so many people have come together in opposition for a long period like this.

“Mind you, I’ve never seen a genocide like this,” she says. “This is the worst thing that’s ever happened in my life.”

Thompson shares this passion.

During a phone interview, Thompson tells me she has been involved in activism since the Vietnam War, when she was 22 and a student at York University in Toronto.

“As I got older and started to be an independent woman, I just saw stuff that I knew was not right,” Thompson says, “I

knew I wanted to fix it—or try to fix it.”

At the metro station, Thompson boldly talks back to an officer who tries to stop them from giving out flyers.

“He’s full of himself and thinks he's a hotshot, and is going to tell these women to shut up,” Thompson says, turning to us.

“Fuck you,” she whispered, flipping them off.

I was surprised by her vigour. This feistiness has stuck with her since she was in her 20s.

When I asked Thompson about being an older woman activist, she told me it feels the same as it did when she was 22.

“You made me realize I think I’m younger than I am,” she says with a chuckle.

Back at the restaurant, Whalley tells me about the privilege of being an older woman activist.

She says older women’s presumed innocence and fragility allow them to get away with more shenanigans, without the violent repercussions that the younger generation could not.

“It would take a really inhumane cop to beat the shit out of somebody like me,” Whalley says.

I ask her if she’s been harassed by the police before.

”I’ve been arrested a few times,” Whalley says, chewing her noodles casually. “It’s not important—I haven’t been arrested enough.”

Whalley and Thompson are not the only older women activists standing up against human rights abuses in the city today.

One other group—or gaggle, as they say—that is well-loved across North America is the Raging Grannies.

You might catch this large group of older women wearing grandma-like clothing—long skirts, aprons, shawls draped over their shoulders and funky hats with activism-related badges and buttons—and brashly singing “fuck the government” versions of classic tunes.

Sheila Laursen, an 80-year-old Montreal Raging Granny, has been raging since 2010.

At a no-screen cafe, she tells me about what it means to be a Granny. As Laursen explains, it all started with the Victoria Grannies in 1987.

“They were outrageous,” Laursen says. She liked their whole idea. The performative art of activism.

After retiring from the YMCA, she knew her destiny was to be a loud social activist. We sip our coffees and pick at our scones, while she shows me the heavy pile of Raging Granny newspaper archives dating back to the 90s.

For decades, these bold older women have been raging about climate change, national politics, Indigenous rights, women’s rights and anti-war across Canada and, more recently, the United States.

These women have dedicated years of their lives to social justice, yet they are still fighting the same fight Whalley admits.

“In the late '60s there was an upsurge of young people who didn't like the way things were, and decided they wanted to change it,” Thompson says, “and the same thing is happening now.”

She says that because of social media, Gen Z is awake to “what the West does” and its complicity in war and genocide. They choose to continuously fight alongside the younger generation today, in hopes of the future they waited for all those years ago.

“As long as I’m able to walk and talk,” Thompson says, “I’ll be fighting for peace.”

OLDER WOMEN ACTIVISTS CONTINUE TO DEFY AGE AND AUTHORITY IN THEIR FIGHT FOR JUSTICE DECADES LATER. GRAPHIC ALISSIA BOCARRO

Le Cypher X: e city in real time

The weekly jam thrives on openness, trust and risk, bringing generations of artists together in one room

Safa Hachi

Onursday nights at O Patro Vys, the music begins without a setlist, but always with purpose.

“A good jam sounds like a song and a bad jam sounds like a jam,” founder and bandleader Vincent Stephen-Ong says.

It’s both a mantra and a challenge, one that has carried the collective through more than a decade of weekly sessions.

Le Cypher X started at Le Belmont in 2014 but took shape at the now-closed Le Bleury bar à vinyle in 2015, before eventually moving to its current home on Mont-Royal.

Stephen-Ong describes the jam as a space that balances openness with musical discipline. Rather than exclusivity, the jam focuses on creating an environment where musicians can thrive together.

“We want to create a space where people are listening, where everyone ampli es each other,” he says. “It’s not just about chops. It’s about serving the music.”

Stephen-Ong is a saxophonist and keyboard player, as well as a freelancer, content creator and performer who has worked with countless groups across Montreal. Alongside performing, he also helped lead workshops with Kalmunity, an improvised collective that blended styles like hip hop, soul, reggae and Afrobeat.

sessions,

In those sessions, he posed a multitude of questions: How do we do what we do? What are our goals, and how do we get out of problem areas when the music breaks down? at process pushed him to think more deeply about the chal-

lenges of improvised music and the strategies needed to turn raw, unpredictable moments into something cohesive.

For drummer Shayne Assouline, Cypher became the place where persistence met mentorship. His introduction was humbling, and he jokingly admitted his rst jam was a mess.

“I really did not do well, like I did such a bad job,” Assouline says.

But instead of shutting the door, Stephen-Ong guided him.

“He’s very approachable, and he’ll tell you what you need to hear, the things a lot of people won’t say, but he does it in a way where you know he cares,” Assouline says.

Over time, he practiced harder, made connections, and learned by watching players who inspired him to keep going.

“My name went up the list, and now I’m beyond the list,” Assouline adds.

Looking back, Assouline credits Le Cypher with shaping his path.

“If I had never gone to Cypher, I would have never started my own jam,” he says. “I built my career from being seen there and from playing with these guys all the time.”

at jam, Growve at Turbo Haüs, is now a weekly xture he runs with Marcus Dillon, one of the collective’s vocalists and MCs, and another Cypher regular, Shem Gordon.

tapped him on the shoulder to wait his turn asked him to host.

“I guess he thought I was a good MC,” Dillon adds. “He saw that I could hold the idea together and help it move forward.” at mix of risk and trust de nes the night. Sometimes the sound is seamless; sometimes it frays.

For Dillon, what matters most is the space created for whoever’s ready.

“If you’re in the front of the crowd and you feel like you could be attached to this song—let me know, and I’ll get you on stage as soon as musically feasible,” Dillon says. at willingness to give the mic to whoever feels ready connects directly to how Le Cypher X began.

“A lot of it came from just being at house parties with other musicians,” Stephen-Ong says. “ at’s the energy I wanted [...] putting di erent talented people together can lead to something unexpected.”

A verse might fall at, a beat might stumble, but the chance that it all clicks and that a song takes shape in the moment makes the night worth it.

For Dillon, the jam represents both stage and classroom, as music didn’t arrive through formal training but through the

love of language.

“I’ve always been fascinated with the good use of lyricism, timing, double entendre and rhetoric. I’ve always loved good words,” Dillon says.

Dillon recalls looping rapper Nas's verses on an MP3 player and rewriting them line for line, sharpening his cra in private before stepping into public.

Stephen-Ong’s projects have always pushed for that balance between precision and play.

When he rst came to Le Cypher, he immediately felt the impact of the lessons.

“I would want to rap so bad that I would get on stage and grab the mic and confuse the whole band. I had no idea what I was doing,” Dillon says.

Alongside Le Cypher X, he leads the Urban Science Brass Band, a New Orleans-style ensemble that brings hip hop into the streets with horns, percussion and MCs. Both projects reflect the same instinct: to make music that feels alive, accessible and communal.

“At the core, what I hope for is really simple,” Stephen-Ong says. “ at you come, and you have fun. Maybe you meet someone, maybe you take something positive with you, even if it’s the only time you ever come. at’s it.”

Assouline urges jammers to lean into discomfort and surround themselves with people who push them forward.

“Being good is really easy, but getting good is kind of hard— and we should get better at getting good,” Assouline says.

Cypher, he says, is the only space where, no matter your level, there’s going to be someone else there who will inspire you.

Years later, the same band-

leader who

“Everyone wants to be there to kind of experience the same thing as you, so there’s something that connects you and that other person across the room that has a whole di erent thing going on,” Assouline adds.

e jam runs on community as much as it does on sound. Week a er week, strangers become collaborators, and collaborators become friends.

Stephen-Ong o en talks about the generational side of it: how veteran players share the stage with newcomers, and how each group pushes the other to grow.

Le Cypher X exists in that balance of improvisation and structure, risk and reward, chaos and cohesion. For Stephen-Ong, it’s about setting a standard that li s Montreal’s jam culture while keeping it open to anyone ready to take a chance. at same energy carries to the crowd.

“Le Cypher X makes Montreal feel small in the best way,” attendee Luke Savoie-Lopez says. “You realize half the city’s talent is right here, just waiting for a moment to show their skills.”

Or as Dillon puts it, “Your neighbours are crazy with it. And you probably didn’t even know.”

LE CYPHERX VOCALISTS SHEM GORDON (LEFT) AND MARCUS DILLON (RIGHT) TRADE VERSES AND LAUGHTER ON STAGE. COURTESY DONNIE DARKROAST

You only know half the story

If you’re a student at Concordia University, you’ve probably seen a series of posters and promotional material the university sent out over the summer months.

From pamphlets boasting the university’s global high rankings to campus tours, emails, and Concordia’s carefully curated website, the university o en presents a glowing image of itself.

However, we at e Link believe it's important to remember that promotional material is just that, promotion, and serves as only one side of life at Concordia. As students begin to attend orientation seminars and introductory lectures, we believe it’s important to show you the other side of the story so that you can truly know your university, and not just what it wants you to see.

From this desire, the Reorientation Issue was born. Inside, you’ll nd articles on student activism at Concordia, the millions it collects in late fees and a practical guide to surviving your degree.

e Concordia website touts inclusive spaces and groups, and says it “works hard to foster a safe, accessible and inclusive campus.” While this may be true for some, other students have also reported feeling surveilled on campus in the past year due to police presence during political demonstrations at the university.

e Link also reported that Concordia repeatedly hired security ocers from a rm founded by a former Israel Defense Forces soldier, and even issued them CSPS uniforms.

e university has a long history of pro-Palestinian student activism. In 2002, Concordia students staged a demonstration, now known as the Netanyahu Riot, to protest the invitation of Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu to speak on campus. is movement has only grown in scope over the past years.

In January 2025, over 800 students gathered in the Hall building atrium and voted in favour of the CSU adopting two Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) motions. ese motions called upon the university to divest from companies complicit in genocide, to defend student activists from sanctions and to declare its support for a full arms embargo.

Following the vote, Concordia president Graham Carr released a statement reiterating Concordia’s position on “such boycott campaigns.” Carr stated that they “are contrary to the value of academic freedom upon which all universities are founded.”

international students, announced in 2023, have also remained a major point of contention at the university. Over 21 student organizations at Concordia went on strike in March of 2024 to show their opposition to the hikes.

e hikes forced Concordia to cut its budget and services, reduce the shuttle bus schedule, freeze hiring, and cut course sections or entire courses altogether. Nonetheless, Carr received a raise of over $30,000 in 2023-24, bringing his total salary to over half a million dollars. e university now faces a starting decit of $84 million for the 2025-26 academic year, to boot.

e statement drew criticism from some activists and student organizations, who said he was seeking to silence pro-Palestine students.

Last year, political action at Concordia went beyond just students. Two workers’ unions at the university, the Concordia University Professional Employees Union and the Concordia Research and Education Workers Union, went on strike to push for better working conditions. Both eventually reached an agreement with the university.

Student unions at the university also faced criticism over the past year, with students raising questions regarding the level of the CSU’s transparency. e student union has also been accused of neglecting trans students.

Last September, three students were arrested at the Guy-Concordia Metro station following a walkout for Palestine. A month later, two students were arrested on campus at a Cops O Campus demonstration. In both instances, the university claimed that arrests only happened following the alleged assault of Campus Safety and Prevention Services (CSPS) o cers by protesters. is all culminated in the Concordia Student Union (CSU) holding a press conference in November, where it accused the university of police brutality and racial discrimination.

Despite this, for two days in November, over 11,000 Concordia students went on strike in support of an international university strike movement for Palestine. Mobilization included picketing classrooms and a rally at the Hall building, where students called for divestment and solidarity with Palestine.

To its credit, the university did disclose its $454 million investment portfolio in April a er pressure from activists. Included in its portfolio are companies that have been accused of complicity in the Palestinian genocide, like BlackRock and Boeing.

e Quebec government’s tuition hikes for out-of-province and

rough this issue, this editorial and our ongoing coverage of the university from which we operate, we invite you to remain critical and resist taking everything at face value. Ensure that you are well-equipped to understand the decisions your university and city make.

e Link has a duty to hold institutions accountable. We hope we have lived up to that responsibility, and that you will continue to hold us to the same standard. We hope this issue enhances your understanding of your university, your city and your place within them.

Last year at Concordia Universi

India Das-Brown

@india.db

From September 2024 through spring 2025, Concordia University saw on-campus policing, arrests during two protests, the hiring of private security and advisory council resignations.

This retrospective traces the flashpoints, how decisions were justified, who was affected and what demonstrators can take into this year.

The ashpoints

Sept. 25, 2024 – Walkout and three arrests. A daytime Palestine solidarity walkout travelled from the Henry F. Hall Building through campus tunnels and out onto the street. SPVM officers arrested three people at the Guy-Concordia Metro station on allegations of mischief, assault and obstructing a police officer, according to police quoted at the time. The arrested students were aggressively handled by police officers, with one woman yelling that she couldn’t breathe as an officer kneeled on her back, according to eyewitnesses. Concordia later said Campus Safety and Prevention Services (CSPS) had alerted the SPVM in advance and that one CSPS agent was assaulted while intervening in response to vandalism in the tunnel.

Oct. 31, 2024 – Cops O Campus and o arrests. A demonstration opposing police presence on campus ended with two student arrests. e SPVM and a university spokesperson said o cers intervened a er the students allegedly assaulted a CSPS agent. One protester alleged that one CSPS o cer began chasing a student through the tunnels before the student was detained by SPVM o cers in the LB building.

How Concordia’s art gallery entered the picture

e Leonard & Bina Ellen Art Gallery was, perhaps unexpectedly, drawn into the year’s con icts. In November 2024, a scheduled artists’ talk became a surprise silent protest against the arrests of students in the vicinity of the gallery and the dismissal of gallery director Pip Day. Artist Ésery Mondésir criticized the gallery’s use as a “detention centre” during an Oct. 31, 2024, protest and alleged that the community has reason to believe Day was red because of her support for Palestine.

By January 2025, ve of the gallery’s eight advisory council members resigned. In their public letter, they pointed to “disturbing events” during the previous semester, including the arrests and the director’s departure. ey also argued that the university failed “to recognize the legitimate right of the entire Concordia community to peacefully and meaningfully express their solidarity with the Palestinian people.”

e university did not con rm any connection between the director’s dismissal and activism on campus.

More recently, on Aug. 18, artists scheduled for a gallery screening withdrew “in protest against the use of their work to artwash Concordia’s suppression of Palestine solidarity at the Gallery and on campus,” according to an Instagram post by Regards Palestiniens, Artists Against Artwashing, and Academics and Sta for Palestine Concordia.

How Concordia’s securi strategy shi ed

In November 2024, e Link reported that some students, particularly those from marginalized communities, said they felt surveilled and at times mistreated by campus security.

“You can see the shi ,” said a former student union executive at the time. “Security has become more aggressive with students connected to pro-Palestinian activism.”

A look back at protests, arrests and security at the university and how the administration responded

A Concordia spokesperson told e Link that she encourages students who feel targeted by security to le a complaint with the O ce of Rights and Responsibilities.

For 14 days during the Fall 2024 semester, Concordia hired Perceptage International, an external rm founded by a former Israel Defense Forces soldier. According to university records obtained by e Link, the rm’s agents were issued CSPS logo patches and tasked with “crowd control and special intervention.”

Quebec to ban public prayer

A video posted on Nov. 22, 2024, on the Solidarity for Palestine's Honour and Resistance (SPHR) Instagram page, appeared to show the extent of security o cers’ intervention in student activism. In the video taken during the student strikes for Palestine, Perceptage and other CSPS o cers appear to be aggressively pushing students away from picketing actions and into the stairway of the Hall building, while students shouted: “Don’t touch them, don’t shove them, these are Concordia students.”

Concordia’s deputy spokesperson claimed the Perceptage agents were Canadian Armed Forces veterans and said supplemental sta ng was added a er reports of “aggressive behaviour, assault and vandalism” at demonstrations. Student organizers criticized the optics and reported rough handling during pickets.

Concordia also publicized protest “behaviour guidelines” at the start of the 2024 Fall semester, outlining existing rules for picketing, encampments and classroom access, and noting that breaches can trigger investigations and sanctions.

How student leaders responded

The Quebec government says it will table legislation this fall prohibiting prayer in public spaces. The move follows months of Sunday protests by Montreal4Palestine outside NotreDame Basilica that included group prayers. The Canadian Civil Liberties Association and other civil rights groups said the move would infringe on freedoms of religion and expression, among other freedoms.

LaSalle College fined $30M for breaking English enrolment quotas

Following the September and October 2024 arrests, the Concordia Student Union (CSU) held a press conference with allied groups, alleging police brutality and racial discrimination at the university, while demanding that police be kept o campus.

On Jan. 29, 2025, over 800 undergraduates voted to mandate the CSU to adopt two Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions motions for “ nancial investments which are currently held in funds complicit in or which bene t from militarized violence, war, colonialism, apartheid, and genocide.” Concordia president Graham Carr released a statement the next day saying that such boycott campaigns run “contrary to the value of academic freedom.”

A week later, Concordia opened an investigation into how the special general meeting was conducted and suspended the CSU’s ability to book campus spaces, citing alleged policy breaches, pending the outcome. A er the CSU sent a legal demand and sought relief in court, Concordia temporarily restored limited booking rights so elections could proceed.

Can you s ll protest safely?

Knowing Concordia’s protest guidelines can be helpful. Being aware of the limits—such as restrictions on blockades or classroom access—can help participants anticipate when police might be called.

Montreal’s LaSalle College has been fined nearly $30 million for exceeding government quotas on English-language programs, with over 1,700 students enrolled beyond the limit for the 2024-25 academic year. The school’s president, Claude Marchand, says the penalties threaten its survival and that he had pleaded for a grace period, as businesses adjusting to Bill 96, Quebec's law to protect the French language, had received. The o ce of the Quebec minister of higher education said the reduced fine rate in the first year was the transitory period.

Poor air quality projected to cut Canadian life expectancy

Documentation is one of the strongest forms of protection. Protesters who record events through video, photography or even audio recordings create a public record that can later be used to clarify disputed accounts. It is also helpful to plan exits in advance and identify safe meeting points should a demonstration be dispersed.

In practice, protests on campus may not be risk-free but no protest is without risk. How 2025-26 feels on campus remains to be seen.

The University of Chicago’s Air Quality Life Index warns that wildfire smoke could reduce life expectancy in parts of Canada. In 2023, the country’s worst wildfire season saw PM2.5 (fine particulate matter) pollution rise by 50 per cent, a ecting half the population. The hardest-hit regions were the Northwest Territories, British Columbia and Alberta.

Concordia Universi collected millions in late fees and penal es om students

Manoj Subramaniam

@manojourno

Concordia University collected over $7.2 million from students in late fees and other penalties from 2021 to 2024, according to data obtained through an access to information (ATI) request.

In that four-year period, the university charged over $4.5 million in late fees and collected about $4.3 million of that amount. It levied nearly $3.1 million in interest charges, of which $2.6 million was collected.

Meanwhile, penalties for insu cient funds —when a bank account doesn’t have enough money to cover a payment— totalled $48,345.

Overall, Concordia collected over 91 per cent of the various penalty charges assessed during the period.

e ATI also showed that the university uses a third-party collections agency to recover money owed to it. It declined to disclose the contract or provide data on how much was collected through the agency, however, citing exemptions for “industrial secret” under the ATI law.

Table showing various penalties levied and collected by Concordia University from 2021 to 2024. (Data Courtesy: Concordia University)

Shakya Don, a second-year international student at Concordia, paid the fees for the summer 2025 semester a week a er the deadline. He said he was worried not only about the penalties, but also whether the late payment would a ect his course registrations.

“I was de nitely a bit scared because already it's a big price to pay, and on top of that, I was a bit worried about having to pay even an additional amount,” Don said.

Late fees of $92.70 are applied if a student doesn’t pay their fees within 30 days of the start of a semester, according to the university's policy outlined on its website. e university also charges interest on any unpaid balances at a rate of 8 per cent annually, which gets compounded monthly.

In addition to penalties, the policy states that students with outstanding balances cannot register for additional courses or graduate.

Too broke to pay tuition on time? Be prepared to cough up more

Concordia Student Union (CSU) councillor Nathanael McCooeye said that while he believed some penalty was justied, the $92.70 late fee was steep.

“Students are typically not among the most a uent or autonomous of demographics to be drawing resources from,” McCooeye said.

Another ATI request showed McGill University charged over $6.4 million in late fees and interest on outstanding balances during the same period. However, the school didn’t specify how much of this was collected.

Concordia had a total enrolment of 45,445 students compared to McGill’s 39,380 in 2023, according to their respective websites. e period covering the information requests, 2021-2024, also saw some of the highest in ation rates in decades in Canada, while Montreal’s housing costs surged as vacancy rates dropped to a historic low of 1.5 per cent in 2023.

Youth unemployment also remained high, with Statistics Canada reporting a 14.1 per cent joblessness rate among those aged 15 to 25 in July 2025—more than double the overall rate of 6.9 per cent.

At the same time, the university has also faced cuts in government funding and declining enrolment rates, putting pressure on its nances.

Fortier said that the university may o er a payment agreement to students facing nancial di culties in some cases, if they are unable to pay their outstanding balance. is would remove any holds on their account and allow them to register for classes.

McGill did not provide comment in time for the publication of this article.

Concordia spokesperson Julie Fortier said that, like any organization, the university enforces deadlines and late fees.

“Ensuring we get the revenue we have budgeted has been especially crucial during the period [from 2021 to 2024] since we have faced a deficit for the past few years,” she said in an email to e Link

McCooeye said it would be problematic if the university relied on these penalties as another source of revenue. However, he doubted that was the case, given the amount was small relative to the university’s budget.

“If what they are saying is, ‘In a di cult economic time, Concordia cannot a ord late payments,’” he added. “I think this is understandable.”

Concordia food groups struggle to meet demand

The People’s Potato and the Hive Free Lunch say they are at capacity as more students face food insecurity

Kara Brulotte

@kara.brulotte

Free campus food programs at Concordia University, including e People’s Potato and the Hive Free Lunch, say they are struggling to keep up with growing student demand as higher living costs push more students into food insecurity.

A 2023 study conducted by the university found that more than half of Concordia students reported experiencing some level of food insecurity. Another study conducted by Moisson Montreal showed that the proportion of student food bank users has reached 14.1 per cent in 2024.

Since then, the cost of groceries has continued to rise, increasing the pressure on on-campus food programs.

“ e demand for our services is so high that we are not physically able to meet the demand ourselves,” said Simona Bobrow, a member of e People’s Potato collective.

The Potato operates a community garden at the Loyola campus, an emergency food basket program for people in need, and a free lunch service during the school year on the downtown campus.

According to Bobrow, these programs excel, with the lunch program feeding up to 500 people on a good day. Concordia student Marissa Guthrie is one of these students.

“I go to e People’s Potato every day it’s open, regardless if I have a class that day,” Guthrie said. “My experience has been really positive; the food is always good.”

e Hive Café Solidarity Co-op runs a similar program on the Loyola campus. e Hive Free Lunch sees around 200 people a day for free breakfast and between 2 to 500 people for free lunch, according to program coordinator Alanna Silver. Whatever food isn’t used gets put in a community fridge,

so nothing goes to waste, said Silver.

Concordia Student Union (CSU) Loyola coordinator Aya Kidaei said the Hive Free Lunch program is one of her go-tos on campus.

“I eat there every day,” Kidaei said. “It's a very beloved service at Loyola; everyone I know goes there to eat.”

Silver said she hopes to be able to serve free dinner in addition to breakfast and lunch, in order to give students with evening classes a more a ordable food option.

“Success to me would be getting enough funding to do the dinner program,” Silver said, “but also being able to give away free groceries, to fully eliminate food insecurity on the Loyola campus.”

Both groups have had fee levy increases in the last few years, allowing a bigger budget to provide more food for Concordia students.

CONCORDIA UNIVERSITY COLLECTED MILLION FROM STUDENTS IN LATE FEES FROM 2021 TO 2024. GRAPHIC ALISSIA BOCARRO

However, they say budget constraints remain one of their biggest obstacles.

“If we could, we would feed thousands of people every day,” Silver said, “but we have certain budget and kitchen constraints.”

e program coordinator said all the money currently distributed from the CSU and from the Arts and Sciences Federation of Associations (ASFA) fee levies is in use, and more funding would be needed to expand services.

At the same time, the Potato has received requests from students interested in starting similar groups. But Bobrow said kitchen space is limited.

“ e kitchen space is one of the things that makes the Potato possible,” Bobrow said. “ e university was never forthcoming about providing kitchen spaces like that for students because the corporate food supplier is prioritized.”

is food supplier, Aramark, partners with Concordia and currently operates the university cafeterias on both campuses.

According to Silver, the Hive currently receives around 150 thousand dollars of funding per year.

“Budgetwise, I don’t know if it’s possible to expand [the Hive’s budget],” Kidaei said. “ ere’s so much bureaucracy, but I think it’s doable.”

e Potato, though not currently working on introducing any new programs, aims to expand its current services.

With the fee levy increase of 16 cents per credit it put in place last year, the collective was able to hire an extra member and run their emergency food basket program throughout the summer for the rst time.

Guthrie said this made a real difference in her expenses.

budget,” Guthrie said. “Everything I eat there is stuff I’m not buying.”

Despite these e orts, coordinators say food insecurity among students is a structural issue.

“Our projects are successful,” Bobrow said, “but they’re always gonna be a band-aid solution when the system is creating this problem of not being able to meet basic needs.”

With future initiatives put into place, both groups say they hope to continue making food accessible to the student population.

“No one should ever have to choose between paying tuition and paying for groceries,” Silver said. “A lot of students pay tuition, they pay their rent, they pay everything else, and then food comes in last place. You shouldn’t have to put yourself in that position.”

“It does help me save on groceries—probably about a third of my

Concordia Universi looks beyond U.S. suppliers amid tari war

Concordia University updated its procurement practices to shi away from U.S. suppliers in response to the ongoing U.S.-Canada trade war, according to an access to information (ATI) request.

From advancing purchases and prioritizing local and nonU.S. suppliers to negotiating with vendors, the documents obtained by e Link showed that the university took several measures to avoid future tari -related price hikes and to comply with the Quebec government’s countermeasures.

“We are implementing a number of measures to reduce awarding contracts to U.S. rms,” Caroline Bogner, senior director of procurement services, wrote in response to a question about what impact tari s would have on Concordia, from corporate risk manager Rita Li, in April.

“It would be very di cult to do an overarching analysis on potential nancial impact on us at this time,” Bogner added.

Concordia spokesperson Julie Fortier said in an email that the university expected a reduction in procurement from American companies, but noted that the changes would not have a major impact on academics or campus life.

“We only purchased [4.76 per cent] of goods from the U.S. even before discussions around tari s began,” Fortier said. “So, we do not foresee any major impact.”

Concordia shifts its suppliers and travel policy as Canada-U.S. tensions hit campus operations

within a few days to a couple of weeks to avoid price hikes or renewing contracts ahead of time, anticipating a price increase.

Lander said that advancing purchases was a strategy taken by businesses when faced with a potential price rise or weakening currency.

Last scal year (May 1, 2024, to April 30, 2025), Concordia spent about $10 million on U.S. suppliers and on travel expenses to the U.S., according to Denis Cossette, the university’s chief nancial o cer.

About 90 per cent of the amount went towards goods and services, including about a million apiece on library collections and research databases, lab equipment, so ware and licenses, as well as advertisements for “publicity, exposure, visibility,” according to the ATI.

e remainder of $1 million relates to travel expenses for conferences and research activities.

Economics professor Moshe Lander said that the uncertainty introduced by U.S. President Donald Trump’s ip- opping tari policy since taking o ce in January posed challenges to organizations when making long-term procurement commitments.

With changing tari rates and price hikes, businesses faced uncertainty about signing contracts or spending more resources watching for the best deal.

“You might be stuck with a contract that says, ‘Sorry, you have to buy from us for the next year, two years, ve years, at an agreed-upon price. Too bad [for] you,’” Lander said.

At Concordia, university o cials also acted to place orders

“We've seen it in the GDP data that when Trump was imposing various deadlines, [we] would see this front loading of business where everybody would try and race to beat whatever the deadline was to make sure that it wasn't going to be subject to tari s or disruptions,” he said.

e university o cials also faced uncertainty on whether tari s applied to certain goods.

In an email exchange with a redacted source, Helen McDonald, senior buyer at Concordia’s procurement services department, questioned why the reseller’s price was higher.

“ ere are no counter-tari s on this type of equipment that would a ect price - please tell me if you have evidence that any tari would be in e ect?” McDonald wrote.

In another instance, McDonald received a ve-day deadline to send a purchase order to the vendor.

“I should normally be able to do this quickly, it's just the approvals that can get delayed and overnight refreshes,” she wrote.

Since January, Trump has imposed and paused tari s or changed the rates several times, which the Canadian government has criticized as a violation of the Canada-U.S.-Mexico free trade agreement (CUSMA) signed during his rst term.

Last Friday, a U.S. appeals court ruled that most of Trump’s tari s were illegal, adding to the uncertainty.

e Canadian government, for its part, has backed away from retaliatory tari s against the U.S. tari s.

In August, the Carney government dropped some of the retaliatory tari s on non-CUSMA-compliant goods in the hopes of advancing trade negotiations. In July, the government also scrapped the digital services tax a er Trump ended trade talks abruptly.

However, Lander said that the CUSMA free trade regime still covers the vast majority of goods and services, and therefore is exempt from tari s.

“I don't think that it's having much of an impact on Canadian consumers, of which Concordia is one, in part, because there's just no tari s on a lot of stu ,” Lander said.

Apart from counter-tariffs, federal and provincial governments have also modified their procurement rules for public organizations.

For instance, in March, the Quebec government an-

nounced a slew of measures requiring public institutions like Concordia to change how they purchase goods and services. e university updated its procurement policy, Lignes de conduite, following these to give preference to Montreal- and Quebec-based companies in procurement.

“As per a new government directive, we are also implementing a penalty on U.S. bidders who bid on our public calls for tenders for certain types of procurements, of between 10 to 25 (per cent) if a bidder has a U.S. address,” Bogner wrote in another email exchange shared in response to the ATI.

Under these rules, a product manufactured in the U.S. would not be subject to penalties if imported and sold by a Canadian or Quebec vendor, according to Fortier.

“A Quebec/Canada-based reseller of an American manufactured good is considered a Quebec/Canada vendor, not a U.S. vendor,” she said in an email to e Link

Fortier also said the university would continue to procure some specialized research equipment from the U.S., nonetheless.

“Some goods or services can only be obtained from certain U.S. vendors, especially in a research environment,” she added.

@manojourno

Manoj Subramaniam

ConU 101: A must-read guide

India Das-Brown

Whether@india.db

you’re a new arrival at Concordia University this fall or rediscovering campus life, guring out where to go for help can feel overwhelming. Here’s a primer on what to know, where to go, and which free meal you should never say no to.

Academic a airs

If you’re new to Concordia or just trying to find your footing again, here are some things you should know

Start with the Birks Student Service Centre (LB185, SGW Campus or Vanier Library, Loyola Campus). It’s the “Who do I even ask?” desk, handling ID cards, policy and tuition questions, and general triage. Phone them at 514-848-2424 ext. 2668 or email them at students@concordia.ca. Walk-ins are 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekdays at SGW, or by appointment at Loyola.

If you have money questions, the Financial Aid and Awards O ce (GM-230) handles loans, bursaries and scholarships. Walk-ins are 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. on weekdays.

required

Are you an international student? e International Students O ce (GM-330; ext. 3515; iso@concordia.ca) answers questions on immigration documents, study permits, health insurance and settling-in.

For accommodations, the Access Centre for Students with Disabilities supports exam accommodations, note-taking and more—register once and you’re set for your time at Concordia. To access nal exam accommodations for the Fall 2025 term, you must submit all required documentation to acsd.intake@concordia.ca by Oct. 17.

Two other hubs worth knowing are the Otsenhákta Student Centre (H-653; ext. 7327) and the Black Perspectives Ofce (blackperspectives@concordia.ca). e former is for First Nations, Inuit and Métis students, o ering social events, academic support and career advice. e latter is for support, advocacy and mentoring for Black students and those involved in Black-centred research.

For studying, the Webster (SGW) and Vanier (Loyola) libraries run extended hours, including 24/7 study access during the fall and winter terms (don’t forget to bring your ID for overnight access).

e Student Success Centre (H-745 at SGW; AD-103 at Loyola; ext. 3921/7345) o ers writing help, tutoring, study workshops and career advising.

Know your rights

In the case of an academic dust-up like plagiarism accusations, grade appeals or the general policy maze, there are two lifelines: the Student Advocacy O ce (which o ers con dential guidance) and the CSU Student Advocacy Centre (which is student-run and equally discreet). You can contact them at studentadvocates@concordia.ca and advocacy@csu.qc.ca, respectively.

For con icts beyond the classroom, the Ombuds O ce provides independent, informal mediation (ombuds@concordia.ca; ext. 8658).

Dining on a student budget

e People’s Potato continues to ladle free vegan meals from Monday to ursday, 12:30 p.m. to 2 p.m. on the seventh oor of the Hall building; arrive early with a container. Meals are paid for by donation, though most give nothing but gratitude and tupperware. Emergency food baskets are also available, which is worth remembering the next time your rent is due.

e People’s Potato are also always looking for more volunteers. ose interested can attend their volunteer orientation on Sept. 4 at 3:30 p.m. in their kitchen (seventh oor, Hall building).

Over at Loyola, the Hive Free Lunch hands out free vegan breakfasts and lunches on weekdays, 9:30 a.m. to 10:30 a.m. and 12:30 p.m. to 1:30 p.m. Located at SC 200, they o er nut-free, mostly gluten-free options—bring your own container unless you’re willing to shell out 25 cents for a compostable one.

To volunteer, email hivefreelunch@gmail.com. Volunteers “develop kitchen skills, skip the lunch line, get free co ee and endless gratitude, and make friends,” says the CSU website.

e Hive Café Solidarity Co-op (both SGW and Loyola campuses) invites you to become a member for $10. In return, you’ll earn a 10 per cent discount on food and a vote in its democratic governance. Located in Hall H-Mezzanine (SGW) and SC-200 (Loyola), it serves healthy, a ordable plant-based fare, run cooperatively by students, for students.

Meanwhile, Le Frigo Vert, down on 1440 Mackay St., markets itself as an anti-capitalist, anti-colonial, anti-oppression grocery space. It is open Monday to ursday, noon to 6 p.m., and is a cosy spot to grab a bite and study. Membership, funded automatically for Concordia students through a fee levy, gives you access to discounted groceries, herbs and seeds, workshops, and a vote in their annual general meeting. ey also accept volunteers!

On the matter of mind and body

Health Services is the university’s on-campus clinic (GM200 at SGW; AD-131 at Loyola; ext. 3565/3575) o ering medical care, nursing and referrals. Walk-ins are available downtown. For mental health services (GM-300), start with the men-

tal-health intake— rst-come, rst-served assessments that connect you to counselling, groups and other supports. e Sexual Assault Resource Centre provides con dential support and services for anyone a ected by sexual violence (LB-720; sarcinfo@concordia.ca; ext. 5972).

For prayer and quiet, the Multi-faith and Spirituality Centre hosts drop-ins, community activities and maintains prayer and meditation spaces at H-746 (SGW) and SC-032 (Loyola). e Centre for Gender Advocacy (2110 Mackay; ext. 7431) is student-funded, independent, and is mandated to promote gender equality and empowerment, particularly as it relates to marginalized communities.

Get ng around (and under)

e campus shuttle runs weekdays between SGW (outside the Hall building) and Loyola (on Sherbrooke St.). It’s free with your Concordia ID and takes around 30 minutes to shuttle you between campuses. Check the schedule and arrive on time.

If you’re on the STM, a single one-trip fare is currently $3.75; for reduced fares, set up your student OPUS card through the Student Hub account online.

When winter bites, use the tunnels linking Guy-Concordia Metro to the EV, MB, GM, LB and Hall buildings.

’Til debt do us part

Miss a tuition payment, and you may be introduced to the university’s subsidiary late-fee collection. Consider this your reminder to keep things on time. (For billing questions, contact the Birks Student Service Centre at ext. 2668.)

With that, have a wonderful start to the semester and may your year be lighter than your fees!

DI-OCTO SCULPTURE OUTSIDE OF CONCORDIA UNIVERSITY'S DOWNTOWN CAMPUS. PHOTO CAROLINE MARSH

Revolu on starts with a screening

Sean Richard

At the heart of Concordia University’s downtown campus is a space where students and community members can learn and engage in activism through the art of lmmaking.

Cinema Politica is a non-pro t media arts organization that hosts screenings of documentaries and lms every Monday at 7 p.m. at H-110 in the Henry F. Hall building during the school semester.

Stefan Christo is an artist, community organizer and graduate student at Concordia who has worked with Cinema Politica since its inception. He believes that it started as a need to ll a void that was present on campus.

“It was pretty clear that there was a need to have a more consistent space to share documentary lms that engaged with social activism [...] both on campus, but also as a way that could bridge the community at large and the campus,” Christo said.

Film has o en been a medium used to educate and inspire others to participate in activism. For Christo , lm allows people to organize in person and promotes political discourse.

“It's not just a lm, it's being in a room with other people,” he said. “It's talking with people a er the screening, and it's the groups and organizations that bring material to the events.”

Cinema Politica is unique in bringing political issues to the screen in ways most cinemas and classrooms do not.

Cinema Politica is creating space for political films on campus

At every screening, sta organize discussions, inviting both the lm’s team and activist groups working on the issues it raises. ese events create a space for students and community members to engage with the material further a er the screening.

Cinema Politica has also collaborated with a number of organizations across the city including SPHR Concordia, the Montreal Amazon Workers Union, Immigrant Workers Centre, Native Montreal, and Learning Disabilities Montreal.

Stephanie Boyd, Canadian lmmaker and activist, has screened several of her lms at Cinema Politica including a screening of her most recent project Karuara, People of the River.

e lm explores the Kukama people in Peru and their ght to preserve the rivers they depend on for survival. At Boyd’s screening last year, activist groups supporting the same causes joined a Q-and-A a er the lm’s screening.

Boyd said that groups like Cuso International and Canadian Senator Rosa Galvez, who is an expert in oil remediation of oil spills and environmental cleanups, were part of the panel.

Cinema Politica is at the forefront of global issues that resonate with students. Last semester, they screened the Academy Award-winning documentary No Other Land, becoming one of the rst cinemas in North America to do so a er distributors in the U.S. refused to pick up the lm.

e organization also aims to connect and engage with issues that a ect the Montreal community.

“Last season, we had a lm that looked at the housing crisis in Montreal,” Christo said. “Yes, we need to talk about what's happening around the world, but we also need to have lms that create space to talk about what's happening in communities here locally.”

While Cinema Politica does not shy away from featuring heavy subject matters in its screenings, the organization also cares deeply for the art of lmmaking.

Aylin Gökmen is a PhD student in Concordia’s lm and

moving image studies program and operations coordinator at Cinema Politica. She says that the programming team at Cinema Politica, who choose which lms will be screened during the semester, care deeply about the aesthetics of the lms they present.

“[ ey] have done a good job showing well-shot, aesthetically pleasing lms and lms that are more chaotic, but with a subject that is so important,” Gökmen said.

e environment that has been cultivated at Cinema Politica encourages lmmakers to return and keep screening their lms.

Nishtha Jain, an Indian lmmaker who has screened Gulabi Gang, e Golden read and Farming the Revolution at Cinema Politica, praised its audience.

“ ey have a very good audience, an audience which is patient, which is not dismissive, which is so eager to know more, learn more, experience more,” Jain said.

Cinema Politica began at Concordia in 2003 and has since expanded to more than 100 locations worldwide. ey have had local screenings in Barcelona, Berlin, Kuwait City, New Delhi and Mombasa.

While this expansion is important in reaching di erent cinema spaces, its core remains the long-lasting community that supports the lmmakers and causes it presents.

“Cinema Politica speaks to the power of consistency and holding a space over a long period of time,” Christo said. “Some screenings will be small, and then some screenings will have hundreds and hundreds of people, [which is] why I’m also involved to help sustain that space.”

Cinema Politica is always looking for more students to help volunteer with screenings, pass out yers, and make classroom announcements. e organization can be reached at info@cinemapolitica.org.

AUDIENCE MEMBER ASKS THE PANEL A QUESTION AFTER THE SCREENING OF UNION. COURTESY CINEMA POLITICA can

DIRECTOR STEPHEN MAING ADDRESSES THE AUDIENCE AFTER THE SCREENING OF UNION. COURTESY CINEMA POLITICA

The Link’s guide to Montreal’s nightlife

Your go-to guide for bars, parties and community spaces

Safa Hachi

Whether you're fresh to Concordia University, new to the city or a long-time local rediscovering Montreal, the nightlife here has something for everyone.

We’re not calling these places underground, but having a guide can help you cut through the noise and nd your next go-to spot with less trial and error.

MESSY

Some are well-known staples, while others are more tucked away—places you won’t always hear about unless you do some digging. No need to stress! at’s where we come in.

From bars with cheap drinks to DJ-driven dance oors, from casual hangouts to themed nights full of activities, Montreal brims with energy, creativity and community. ink of this as your shortcut to nding the spots worth checking out—whether for the music, the drinks or just the company you’ll nd there.

Part party, part collective, MESSY has quickly carved out a name for itself in Montreal’s queer nightlife scene.

e grassroots collective centres lesbian, queer and trans communities, blending live events with digital media to build spaces that feel both celebratory and intentional.

eir parties are sweaty, glittery and full of energy—bringing DJs, performers and artists together in a setting that’s as much about connection as it is about dancing.

If you’re a er nightlife that highlights creativity and community over the commercial club circuit, MESSY is where to start.

Else’s

156 Roy St. E

Casa del Popolo

4873 St. Laurent Blvd.

Located in a residential pocket not far from both St. Laurent and St. Denis streets, Else’s is a longtime favourite for anyone who wants a laid-back start to the night.

e bar’s eclectic, cosy feel pairs perfectly with cheap drinks and a ordable food, making it a go-to for students and locals alike.

It isn’t exactly a hidden gem, but always worth remembering when you want a night out that doesn’t drain your wallet.

Translating to “house of the people,” this bar has been a staple for Montreal’s independent and experimental music scene for over 25 years.

Equal parts venue, bar and café, it’s the kind of spot where you can grab a drink, catch a weekend DJ set, or discover a standout performance from a local artist. With its cosy, intimate vibe, Casa is a perfect night out with friends.

ELSE'S. PHOTO SAFA HACHI

CASA DEL POPOLO. PHOTO SAFA HACHI

MESSY TURNING THE CROWD INTO PURE CHAOS & JOY. COURTESY ELOISE HALIBURTON

Champs Bar

3956 St. Laurent Blvd.

Turbo Haüs

2040 St. Denis St.

If bars are more your thing, there’s Champs, a lively queer-friendly sports bar with plenty happening week to week. It is also home to some of Montreal’s most creative queer programming, such as SATURGAYS.

Champs’ calendar spans trivia, themed nights, fundraisers and watch parties. is includes favourites like Dyke Night with free pool and Meat Market, a playful dating showcase where singles can present themselves (or a friend) in creative ways for the chance to win a free rst date.

SATURGAYS layers on their signature air at Champs with winter formals, Rocky Horror dance parties and live drunk readings of lms like But I’m a Cheerleader and Twilight—all with a queer twist. Together, they make Champs more than just a bar, but a hub where silly, sexy and community-driven nights come to life.

Bar Courcelle

4685 Notre-Dame St. W.

If you’re looking to step outside of the student-heavy core, Bar Courcelle in Saint-Henri is a cosy spot with plenty to keep you busy.

eir weekly deals span everything from cocktail specials to oyster and hot dog happy hours, making it easy to keep things a ordable.

Beyond the food and drinks, you’ll nd live band open mics on Sundays, trivia nights on Tuesdays and karaoke on ursdays.

ey even host free live music on occasion, so keep an eye out; you might catch a show while you are there!

SWEET LIKE HONEY

Turbo Haüs is equal parts venue and community hub, known for cheap drinks and a ordable shows, and as a space that truly cares about keeping Montreal’s arts scene alive.

Owner Sergio Da Silva is vocal about defending local music against noise complaints, making the bar a trusted spot for concerts.

e venue also hosts free live band karaoke on Mondays and the weekly Growve jam on Wednesdays.

eir motto, “anti-mosh, pro dance,” sums it up perfectly: a place where you can dive into alternative sound or just come dance without taking things too seriously.

Sweet Like Honey creates intentional spaces where lesbian, sapphic and BIPOC communities can gather and thrive.

eir events range from strip-club nights and dance parties to karaoke and picnics, always spotlighting local BIPOC artists and businesses.

More than the party itself, they’ve built a culture of care, enforcing rules against transphobia, racism and body shaming to make their events feel safe, welcoming and grounded in respect.

In a nightlife scene that too o en sidelines these communities, Sweet Like Honey ensures diversity and representation remain at the centre.

TURBO HAÜS. PHOTO SAFA HACHI

BAR DE COURCELLE. PHOTO SAFA HACHI

CHAMPS BAR. PHOTO SAFA HACHI

GRAPHIC NAYA HACHWA

Bikers for Pales ne carries the Gaza Sunbirds’ legacy forward

Monthly bike protests add momentum to

Palestinian solidarity

WhenMinza Haque saw a bicycle protest for Gaza for the rst time in her Plateau-Mont-Royal neighbourhood, it surprised her.

She was surprised not only because they were on bikes, but also because the protesters had come to her neighbourhood to begin with.

Haque, who has been going to monthly marches in support of Palestine since 2023, says the bike protests allow participants to cover more ground compared to protests on foot, resulting in them visiting areas that most demonstrations don’t typically frequent.

“ e marches are good, but it’s always the same route that you take,” she said. “It’s always within the same perimeter, near downtown. With the bike protests, it’s very di erent. Being on a bike is a very freeing experience.”

Haque, who had always been curious if there were other ways to mass mobilize, has been participating in the rides ever since she rst saw them in the street.

Damarice, Bill and Aymen, granted last-name anonymity for safety reasons, organize the events for Bikers for Palestine. e initiative got its start in October 2024 to draw attention to the war in Gaza through public rides.

A er discussing with each other and other participants, the organizers recognized a clear community interest in continuing the bike protests on a more regular basis.

In the spring of 2025, they launched the initiative once again, this time with the idea of it becoming a monthly event.

“You can look at it as an anti-racist form of cycling advocacy that looks at the ways Canada would be complicit in the hardships that people are facing in Gaza,” Bill added.

Damarice explained another reason why the bike connection comes so naturally to these protests.

“Gaza is not a place that feels so di erent and backwards; they literally bike just like us,” she said. “For me, it's important that we're using a medium that is one of their mediums too.”

Although protesting on bicycles carries symbolic meaning, it also brings a distinct atmosphere. According to Bill, passers-by engage more with the bike protests, and he even nds the ambiance joyous.

“A lot of us are horri ed watching what’s happening in Gaza, and sometimes it’s almost like there’s a sense of guilt that comes from just simple things,” Bill said. “So, it’s nice to have an act of joy, but it’s not the kind of joy where you're sticking your head in the sand and trying not to deal with reality.”

e bike protests also di er in the amount of territory they can cover.

“We can cover way more streets in Montreal and go places where protests don’t usually go,” Aymen said, referencing the Rosemont and Plateau-Mont-Royal neighbourhoods.

“People are surprised, and a lot of people lm us,” Aymen added. “ ey're happy to see us, and they're happy to see us in places where they don't really expect us.”

However, Bikers for Palestine was not the rst group to pursue this initiative.

In 2018, an Israeli sniper shot Palestinian cyclist Alaa al-Dali in the leg during the Great March of Return.

Al-Dali had hoped to achieve his goal of representing Palestine at the 2018 Asian Games in Indonesia, but had the lower half of his right leg amputated due to the injury. His dream now unattainable, he formed a para-cycling team called the Gaza Sunbirds with 18 other members who experienced similar injuries to al-Dali’s.

Today, the para-cycling team has dedicated its resources to providing aid to Gaza.

ey formed the Great Ride of Return, a global, non-violent, family-friendly movement in support of Palestine. e campaign unites communities from 35 countries. eir medium? Bike protests.

Bikers for Palestine has a simple mission in Montreal: draw public attention to the situation in Gaza.

“It is something that is relevant to cyclists,” organizer Bill said, “and you can’t talk about cycling in Gaza without talking about occupation, you can’t talk about it without talking about the Great Ride of Return, and you can’t talk about it without talking about the siege.”

He explained that the rides are not only about visibility, but also about accountability.

Despite having longer routes than traditional protests, Bikers for Palestine designs theirs to be inclusive for people of all skill levels and of all ages. Many people also use di erent mediums, such as skateboards, rollerblades and even wheelchairs.

Mechanics also maintain a presence during the protests to help anyone who may encounter bike issues during the ride.

Damarice says the bike protests provide a great opportunity to meet new people.

“During the two hours of the protest, you're going to be next to literally every person in the ride,” she said. “So, you do kind of have funny encounters, and we stop, and we chant, and we clap, and then suddenly there's someone new next to you.”

Haque witnessed this sense of solidarity rsthand during one of her rst rides. e ag attached to her bike got caught in her back wheel, and she had to stop. Fellow protesters quickly came to her aid.

“It happened so fast, someone pulled out one tool, the other person pulled out another tool, they took my wheel apart and did everything,” Haque said. “Within a couple of minutes, I was back in the protest. I know those people now, and they're my friends.”

However, Bikers for Palestine’s story doesn’t always revolve around the bikes, but about raising awareness about the situation in Gaza.

“ e Gaza Sunbirds have become a symbol of steadfastness and resistance,” Aymen said. “ ey use cycling to amplify the voices of athletes with disabilities, but also the voices of the people

of Gaza in general. And that's a bit of what we're trying to do.”

Haque agreed.

“ e bikers in Montreal are not the story,” Haque said. “ e story is that people come out in very large numbers to mass mobilize because there is an ongoing genocide and most of us can’t sit and watch it.”

and keep

e next bike protest will be held on Friday, Sept. 6, at 1 p.m. and will depart from the George-Étienne Cartier statue in Mount Royal Park.

“We're going to keep doing this until Palestine is free,” Bill said. “And I feel happy and con dent knowing that there's going to be one day in my lifetime when I'm not going to have to come to this ride anymore.”

BIKERS FOR PALESTINE RIDERS WAVE THE PALESTINIAN FLAG FROM A BRIDGE IN MONTREAL. THE GROUP AIMS TO INCREASE AWARENESS ABOUT THE SUFFERING IN GAZA THROUGH MOBILE, ENGAGING ACTIVISM. COURTESY BEAUTIFOTO

A look behind the curtain of Concordia recrui ng

Stingers

coaches and administrators discuss the steps in the recruiting process

Samuel Kayll

@sdubk24

From the looks of the recruiting form on the Concordia University athletics website, anyone could put their name in the hat to become a Stinger.

On the surface, it seems simple: a multi-question document to gather basic information from a prospective recruit. But that form represents just the tip of the Stingers’ recruiting iceberg.

Behind it lies a lengthy process of lm study, multiple visits to facilities and in-depth discussions about the future—repeated for every recruit the team chooses to pursue.

Concordia’s recruiting begins at the top. Before and during the season, athletic administrators meet with each program’s coaching sta to determine the best allocation of resources, providing a baseline for identifying each team’s needs.

D’Arcy Ryan, Concordia’s director of recreation and athletics, explains that the cost of recruiting varies based not only on team needs, but also on each program’s network of support outside the school: scouts, former players-turned-coaches, and external camps and showcases.

“We'll have conversations with the coaches to see what the next year's needs are going to be,” Ryan said. “ is way, we know what our baseline level of support will look like.

While Concordia scans rosters from across the country, they focus primarily on Montreal and its surrounding areas--a talent-rich pool that’s close to home.

“We're lucky—we do a lot of recruiting in our own backyard,” Ryan said. “It helps keep the cost down because we have a great pool of talent at the CEGEP level, so we don't have to go too far out.”

Once teams narrow their recruiting lists, they begin a deep dive into each individual player.

ey study game tape, talk to their previous coaches and evaluate their cultural t. From this process, each team creates its “wish list,” the recruits deemed the most valuable or compatible with the Stingers locker room.

While teams analyze skill and potential, they also look into players’ academic goals and individual personalities.

Brad Collinson emphasized the importance of creating mean-

ingful relationships with recruits. e Stingers’ head football coach wants players to feel appreciated throughout their recruitment and to solidify the team’s connection to each prospect.

“We set up meetings—a Zoom or phone call to get to know them,” Collinson said. “We try to make it a more personable process than just, ‘Hey, we like you as a football player and we want to get you here.’”

Along with meetings and tape evaluation, programs pitch themselves through on-campus events. Whether through tours or games, each team aims to give its prospects an accurate depiction of life at Concordia.

Greg Sutton handles soccer operations for both the men’s and women’s teams at Concordia. He appreciates the connection brought by a face-to-face visit, as it provides a more personal touch to a meeting or interaction.

“We'll have a number of players that will come this fall for the following season, to give them a sense of what the gameday atmosphere is like,” Sutton said. “And we have a lot of players that will hang out with some of our current players. We nd that having them on campus is a big advantage for us when we're trying to lock up a recruit.”

But athletics only covers a portion of a recruit’s experience at Concordia. Collinson also uses these meetings to highlight the school’s academic o erings, showcasing programs and opportunities that complement an athlete’s career both on and o the eld.

“We look at the programs that we o er—we're highly touted in engineering and business,” Collinson said. “And then you have your arts and science programs that no one else o ers—I always give the example of the leisure studies program.”

Ryan prioritizes academics alongside the athletic benets of attending Concordia. He takes recruiting visits as an opportunity to remind student-athletes of the many resources a orded to Stingers players, such as academic advising, access to athletic therapy and leadership workshops.

“We're continuously reminding them of these services so

they're able to succeed academically and make it through their program with the support that they feel is necessary,” Ryan said.

But coaches want recruits to make their own decision to choose Concordia. Sutton prioritizes honesty throughout the process to keep expectations realistic and provide an unbiased and transparent view of the program and life as a Stinger.

“I don't like to force the hand of the recruit. I think it's a big step for them and a big decision for them,” Sutton said. “And we don't want to ll their heads with false promises just to get them to commit to our school because in the end, that doesn't end well most times.”

Collinson agreed, noting that the team’s honesty and clarity o en dissuade decommitments by gaining the respect and trust of recruits.

“We're never going to hold a kid here who doesn't want to be here—I don't think that's right,” Collinson said. “But I think if you do your job properly and you create those personal relationships, those are few and far between.”

And through the prioritization of those relationships, Concordia’s recruiting has taken a turn for the better. Sutton noted the in ux of new recruits from around the city through the team’s relationship with Quebec-born players.

“One of our biggest challenges is to recruit [Quebec-born] players to come to an English-speaking school. Over the last three or four years, we've had a lot of success,” Sutton said. “And when you do that, you attract others because the future recruits see that we've got a number of French-speaking players on our team.”

For each recruit, the journey di ers. But regardless of the sport, Ryan lets every prospect know how Concordia prepares them for the future.

“I want them to understand that the three or four years that they're here are going to be eventful,” Ryan said. “ ey're going to be able to compete for a position from day one and graduate with a fantastic degree. Hopefully, they’ve enjoyed their student-athlete experience so that they graduate as a well-rounded contributing member to society.”

CONCORDIA PLACES EMPHASIS ON ITS CONNECTED, FAMILIAL ENVIRONMENT DURING ITS MEETINGS WITH RECRUITS. PHOTO ANDRAE LERONE LEWIS

Why student democracy doesn’t feel like democracy

Low turnout, insider rules, and closed circles make Concordia’s student democracy feel hollow Mani

Asadieraghi

It’s campaign week at Concordia University.

Bright posters plaster the Hall Building stairwell walls, which most people pass by without turning their heads or even giving them a second glance. Online, Instagram feeds cycle through candidate reels—smiling headshots, pastel slogans, promises of “transparency” and “community.” For most students, it’s just another week of their winter semester. Ballots land in their inboxes and move to the trash without a thought.

When the turnout is released, Winter 2025’s general election records a 14.7 per cent turnout from more than 30,000 undergrads. at’s a slight improvement over 11.2 per cent in Fall 2024 and 12.4 per cent in Winter 2024. Still, over 85 per cent of students didn’t participate. Low numbers can o en be read as apathy.

But what if they’re telling us that the system itself discourages engagement?

On paper, student associations appear democratic: constitutions, elected executives and governing councils. In practice, they centralize power in small groups and bury the rules in procedural language.

e Concordia Student Union (CSU) bylaws require students who want to run for executive or council positions to gather physical signatures during a narrow, o en poorly advertised window—sometimes right in the middle of midterm season. Miss it, and you’re out for the year.

To bring a motion forward—whether to a Regular or Special Council Meeting—you must submit it in writing, with supporting signatures, before a hard deadline that’s tucked away in PDFs.

For those already involved, these hurdles are known. For everyone else, they’re invisible.

Leadership pipelines o en run through the same social circles, making elections less about winning over the student body and more about mobilizing networks. is continuity keeps the machine running but narrows the range of voices in decision-making.

e contrast becomes obvious when the stakes feel real.

In January 2025, nearly 1,000 students packed a special general meeting to debate Concordia’s relationship with Israel. A er hours of discussion, voters cast over 800 ballots in support of two Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) motions. Students will show up when they believe their participation can directly change the university’s direction.

So why can’t regular elections do the same?

If student democracy and its impact want to evolve beyond a ballot once a year, Concordia needs more than symbolic xes—it needs structural change.

While students can technically access meetings through Zoom, the system doesn’t make it easy to follow along. e minutes are supposed to be publicly available, but they haven’t been updated since 2024—leaving a backlog that makes it impossible for students to stay up to date. Recordings, minutes and agendas should be archived in a single searchable space, with plain-language summaries so students can quickly catch up and get involved before decisions are nalized.

Student unions show systems can be changed om within

Even though the CSU already sets aside money for student-led initiatives, most students never see where that money actually goes—the budget hasn’t been updated online in years. Giving students more power to pitch ideas and decide where the money ows would turn abstract “engagement” into something you can actually see and use.

Power also needs to become decentralized. Faculty associations, departmental groups and recognized collectives should have the right to bring motions directly to the CSU council without executive approval.

Universities are civic training grounds. e habits we form here—whether active engagement or quiet resignation—follow us long a er graduation.

Low turnout isn’t proof that students don’t care; it’s proof that our system isn’t worth most students’ time. If we can’t get democracy right at Concordia, how can we expect to get it right anywhere else?

e next election is your chance to make that change happen. Show up. Speak up. Make it count.

Legacy of student activism shows funding and dissent are not mutually exclusive

Jocelyn Gardner

Funded by the system they’re meant to confront, student unions like Concordia University’s are caught in a paradox.

It’s natural to wonder: how can students hold universities accountable when their operations depend on them? Isn’t that a con ict of interest? Yet, history shows that student unions can—and o en do—navigate this tension e ectively.

Funding does not automatically equate to submission. In fact, institutional support can provide student unions with the resources, legitimacy and platform necessary to o er vital services and drive systemic change.

For example, Concordia’s institutional funding has enabled the Concordia Student Union (CSU) to establish programs such as the Legal Information Clinic, the Student Advocacy Centre, on-campus childcare and other essential initiatives. ough the CSU receives a portion of student fees administered through the university, it retains autonomy in how it organizes, advocates and agitates. is model—common across Canadian universities—has o en strengthened rather than silenced student activism.

Consider the Quebec student strikes of 2012. Students across the province, including those from Concordia, played a central role in one of the largest acts of civil disobedience in Canadian history, protesting tuition hikes proposed by then-premier Jean Charest’s government.

While funding structures remained intact, the political climate shi ed. Student unions like the CSU and the Fédération étudiante universitaire du Québec used their resources to coordinate mass mobilizations, strikes and negotiations— ultimately forcing the provincial government to shelve its tuition increase plans.

e CSU has also taken on broader social justice issues beyond tuition.

In 2024, they accused the university of police brutality, called for the removal of all police o cers on campus and increased support for mental health services. ese were controversial demands that directly challenged Concordia’s operational priorities. e CSU has also backed divestment campaigns and supported marginalized student communities, even when these stances con icted with university policy or public image.

And yet, funding didn’t stop; if anything, the union’s high-prole actions o en strengthened student support and legitimacy.

What makes this tension between funding and freedom navigable is the structure. Most Canadian student unions are democratically governed by elected student leaders who are accountable to their peers, not university administrators.

Still, a funded union is not a powerless one. It o en has a stronger platform to organize, advocate and apply pressure than an unfunded or underground alternative would. is was demonstrated in February 2025 when student unions across Alberta leveraged their collective resources and legitimacy to demand expanded government funding in an e ort to make postsecondary education more a ordable. is action shows how student unions can band together to push for systemic change. With structural safeguards and democratic governance, institutional funding can empower more than it restricts. Concordia’s student body has proven time and again that it can and will bite the hand that feeds it; not out of disloyalty, but out of a commitment to equity, justice and a stronger community. Money doesn’t dictate the ght—students do. @jocelyn.lhg

In Quebec, student union funding is o en legally protected, meaning universities cannot easily defund them without triggering major political or legal consequences.

Of course, risks still exist. Universities can attempt to control or suppress dissent through bureaucratic hurdles or public-relations pressure, and student leaders must always guard against co-optation.

BALLOTS LAND IN INBOXES, BUT MOST STUDENTS DONʼT CAST A VOTE. GRAPHIC EMILY WOLAK

CONCORDIAʼS STUDENT UNION SHOWS THAT INSTITUTIONAL FUNDING CAN EMPOWER STUDENT ACTIVISM. GRAPHIC OLIVIA SHAN

The price of being palatable

Short-form content stifles real critique and analysis

Zoya Ramadan

Intellectual discourse is shrinking into quick videos, punchy tweets and shocking headlines, rewarding trendiness over truth.

Online conversations are increasingly shaped by what sells, with ideas that t into thirty seconds or less gaining the most traction. e result: a public sphere where marketability outweighs meaning, and where we gravitate toward safe and pro table narratives rather than transformative ones.

Social media and the rise of short-form content have undoubtedly reshaped how we engage with ideas. ese platforms run on algorithms that reward engagement, o en favouring simple, palatable topics over di cult or uncomfortable discussions. In practice, this also means the algorithm pushes videos that elicit strong emotional reactions far more than those advocating for reasoning and re ection. In doing so, we become accustomed to consuming information in bitesized snippets rather than engaging with arguments, causing meaning and truth to bend to attention.

But the condensing of ideas comes with consequences beyond regurgitated information and shallow arguments. It also means reshaping our thinking habits.

Short-form content discourages complexity and extrapolation. On the other hand, critical thought entails nuance, context and questions dominant ideologies. When our mental skills are shaped by what is pro table or viral, we inadvertently start becoming the product and risk losing the intellectual practices that encourage critical thinking.

Why

Every day brings another report of injustice, another political scandal, another failure of our governments to act. Burnout is tempting, and sometimes stepping away feels like the only sane choice.

I recently spent four days away from Montreal, visiting Ottawa and relaxing at the beach in Saint-Zotique. I visited incredible museums, ate amazing food and found myself barely looking at my social media feed.

It felt great, and yet, I also felt guilty.

As a journalism student, I can’t fully detach from the world’s crises: civilians killed in Gaza, targeted attacks on journalists and ongoing complicity from governments—including my own.

I nd it di cult to nd hope in this political climate.

A July report released by World Beyond War, the Palestinian Youth Movement and Arms Embargo Now shows that military equipment and bullets are being shipped from Canada to Israel even a er the Canadian government insisted that it had suspended permits for shipments.

In the United Kingdom, 532 people, half of whom were over the age of 60, were arrested at a demonstration in support of Palestine Action. e British government deemed the pro-Palestine group a terrorist organization a er members sprayed two military planes with red paint and attacked the engines with crowbars. According to Palestine Action, the aircra have been used to refuel Israeli ghter jets.

Back home, Amnesty International Canada expressed concern about the passage of Bill C-5 due to the threat it poses to Indigenous Peoples’ rights to consent over national development projects in their territories.

Important cognitive skills such as analysis and inference may become overshadowed by the collective opinion of the public. As a result, one’s desire to learn becomes thwarted by the popular, palatable topics that circulate online, thus diminishing the inclination to analyze and evaluate information impartially, with a natural curiosity.

And yet, it would be foolish to claim that short-form content spells the end for all nuance and critical thinking. On the contrary, it can serve as a gateway to deeper engagement. A shocking or provocative clip might draw someone in, sparking curiosity and encouraging further learning. But to unlock that potential, we must resist skimming only the surface. We must treat short-form content as the entry point rather than the destination.

For meaningful conversations to thrive in the online sphere, we need to value and engage with longer forms of content, such as podcasts, essays or even YouTube videos, spaces that encourage dialogue.

Insisting on nuance and sitting with ideas which take more time to digest allows us to resist the algorithms that dictate online discourse. By understanding the consequences of palatable content and choosing to shi towards slower forms of media, we can reclaim our attention and the conversations themselves.

we should s ll care

How political and news burnout should not prevent us from continuing to advocate for critical causes

With these events, it’s easy to feel powerless. e scale of these injustices makes each of our individual e orts seem insigni cant. News fatigue creeps in slowly, whispering that maybe disengagement is the safer choice.

And yet, turning away doesn’t erase the problems; it only lets apathy thrive. It’s deeply frustrating and disheartening to see students and activists struggle to have their concerns heard while governments fail to uphold the very principles they claim to champion.

A er the Liberals won in April and Pierre Poilievre lost his riding, it felt like many of my peers simply checked out, with summer providing the perfect excuse to disengage from politics.

I also understand that, as a white cisgender man living in the imperial core, I am at the apex of privilege, and political decisions tend to a ect me the least.

But I see that engagement, small or large, remains crucial. Reading, reporting, protesting and advocating are all ways to maintain pressure, to support marginalized communities and to keep justice alive.

Burnout is real, and self-care is essential. But activism and engagement don’t have to mean constant exposure to despair. ey can be measured, intentional and even local. e refusal to disengage, even in small ways, is itself a form of resistance.

For instance, a recent Angus Reid Institute poll showed that 63 per cent of Canadians still believe Canada should recognize a Palestinian state, even if it complicates trade negotiations with the U.S. Meanwhile, the refusal by striking Air Canada ight attendants to return to work a er the government invoked Section 107 of the Canada Labour Code demonstrates the power of labour solidarity.

ese examples remind us that staying engaged, even incrementally, has real impact.

So yes, I step back at times. But I don’t clock out entirely. Our responsibility isn’t to solve everything at once; it’s to keep the ght alive and refuse to let apathy dictate the future.

SHORT-FORM CONTENT HAS RESHAPED OUR INTELLECTUAL LANDSCAPE. GRAPHIC MIRA DE KOVEN

A love letter to Montreal

What keeps me coming back to the city

Claudia Beaudoin

Tcarry echoes of lives intersecting in ways you can almost trace, but never fully.

Sidewalk cafés host hurried breakfasts and lingering conversations. Markets brim with chatter between neighbours and vendors. Music seeps from open windows, and the aroma of fresh food dri s from every restaurant. Each neighbourhood moves to its own rhythm, layering daily routines with decades of history, small gestures and unnoticed connections that quietly shape the city’s landscape.

Some corners, however, quietly become yours: a bench where you’ve paused to watch a street musician, a restaurant patio you revisit on sunny a ernoons, a quiet park tucked between buildings where conversations stretch into the evening. ese moments fold into memory, shaping your sense of place without ever announcing themselves.

Students, artists and longtime residents move through the same spaces, overlapping in quiet moments and sudden

encounters, letting curiosity and chance weave new stories across the city. On warm nights, I walk through it all and feel both invisible and entirely part of the hum, as if the city is

watching, noticing and holding me close at once.

AI like what I’m studying.

e idea of nding your dream career is something that is instilled in us from an early age. In elementary school, we present our dream jobs to the class. In high school, we choose courses meant to help us get into our desired university programs. By the time we reach university, we hope that a er a few years of study, we will still want to pursue the careers we once imagined.

I’ve always heard Montreal being called one of the best student cities in the world, and for a long time, I didn’t understand it. Too distant and living in the suburbs, I listened to my brother insist it was the place to be and thought he imagined something I couldn’t see. But each year here, each return from elsewhere, it quietly grows on me, revealing details I’d missed before.

Growing up, I cycled through countless dream jobs—baker, orthodontist, fashion designer, mathematician, architect, art dealer, even lmmaker. I’ve met with guidance counsellors, taken career tests, gone down TikTok and Reddit rabbit holes, and yet I’m starting to realize that maybe I’ve been forcing myself to make a decision I’m not ready for.

sets us apart from the crowd and de nes

We are o en tortured with the idea that we must nd our calling, something that us. Falling victim to these expectations, I’ve caught myself believing that picking the wrong career path is synonymous with signing my own death sentence.

I chose to pursue a bachelor's in marketing, not out of passion, but because it felt broad enough to keep my options open. Unless a lightbulb moment throws me o course, I plan to complete the degree—and I’ve realized that isn’t a bad thing.

ere are always jects, new ways people connect, mostly in the summer but spilling into every season if you pay attention. And behind it

all stand the people: the creatives, the orwho

ganizers, the ones who keep shaping it, who make it a city that rewards curiosity, persistence and care.

It’s not perfect—buildings sit empty, winters feel endless, construction interrupts—but those aws are part of every city. As much as I love to criticize, I can’t ignore the safety and comfort I feel here, a quiet privilege that many larger cities

o er far less of.

Montreal frustrates me as much as it fascinates me. It challenges you to notice, to participate, to care in ways few other places do. And when you let yourself stay, when you let

it quietly sink in, you realize it’s worth falling for.

Majoring in uncertain

Being unsure about your studies is part of the process

I’ve o en felt ashamed about my lack of enthusiasm toward my studies. I used to dread the inevitable question from my ing?” My answer was always some version

Yet, I’ve found comfort in knowing I’m Colleges survey showed that 68 per cent of

family at Christmas: “How’s school goof, “It’s ne.” not alone in feeling this way. A 2022 Bestthe undergraduate students surveyed ended up in “realistic elds” instead of following what they’re truly passionate about.

e idea of “following your passion” is inherently awed because it assumes that regards the fact that passions can evolve,

we can only strive for one thing. It also disor conversely, disappear altogether.

While it’s easy to compare yourself to classmates who appear to have their lives portant to remember that not everyone is looking for the same results from their cause the university experience in itself is valuable, no matter what you are studying. School isn’t just about lectures and assignments; it’s a place to meet new people and expose yourself to new experiences, such as volunteering or extracurricular activities.

planned out down to the year, it’s also imtime at university. No degree is useless, be-

If I still haven’t found my passion by the end of my degree, I believe my openness to try new things will get me where I need to be. And that has been my biggest

lesson so far.

YOU DONʼT NEED A PASSION TO MAKE YOUR DEGREE MATTER. GRAPHIC OLIVIA SHAN

weave

new artists, new pro-

city

MONTREAL SKYLINE. GRAPHIC NAYA HACHWA

Students strike for Pales ne Nov. 21-22, 2024

Two student protesters arrested Oct. 31, 2024

CSU accuses Concordia of police brutali Nov. 1, 2024

CSU vote for BDS Jan. 29, 2025

Sept. 29, 2023

Students strike against tui on hikes March 11-15, 2024

Three students arrested a er walkout for Pales ne Sept. 25, 2024

Basketball champion brings NBA Finals trophy to Montreal

Luguentz Dort of the Oklahoma City Thunder celebrated the championship in a triumph for his home city

This summer, in one of two instances ever, the Larry O’Brien Trophy made its way to the Island of Montreal.

As a result of the Oklahoma City (OKC) under’s Game 7 victory over the Indiana Pacers in the NBA Finals, the trophy arrived on the island to celebrate one champ in particular: Luguentz Dort. Dort is a Montreal native and the starting shooting guard for the under.

"Any success I have, I want to share with my people,” Dort said at the championship parade in Montreal-Nord. “ ere's not a lot of us that get to make it to the big stage. As soon as we won, I was like, 'Yeah, I gotta come back home.’”

Mathis Barbusci was among the crowd celebrating the trophy’s visit to the island. While staying loyal to the Toronto Raptors, Canada’s sole NBA team, he applauded the under’s title run.

“I’ve been following the team since [Dort] became a under player,” Barbusci said. “We would’ve loved it more if it came to Montreal with the Raptors, but if it’s going to come to Montreal, I’m really happy that it’s with the OKC under.”

Dort’s accomplishments inspired the city of Montreal even before he won a championship.

A er going undra ed in the 2019 NBA dra , he signed with the OKC under as a free agent. Over the last six years, he steadily improved his game, gaining notoriety for his smothering defensive capabilities. He eventually cemented his position as a starter in the under’s backcourt, alongside fellow Canadian and reigning NBA MVP Shai Gilgeous-Alexander.

is occasion marks the second time that the NBA Finals trophy has visited Montreal; the rst was in 2019, when Chris Boucher brought it home a er the Toronto Raptors’ Championship run. is time feels di erent: Dort wasn’t just celebrating because

he got a ring; he was a major player in the series. He not only contributed signi cantly to the team's o ence as a starter but also handled the task of guarding Indiana Pacers star guard Tyrese Haliburton, who saw a massive increase in o ensive production just last year.

Matthew Chabot, a youth basketball coach in Montreal, attended the parade with his son. He congratulated Dort on the accomplishment and praised his influence in the Montreal community.

“I think he’s amazing,” said Chabot. “He sets a really great example as a defensive player, which is something that young kids struggle with nowadays.”

Festivities in the city began on Aug. 20, with a ceremony held for Dort in the Hall of Honour of Montreal’s City Hall.

With more than 250 fans, friends and family in attendance, Dort was invited by Valérie Plante, mayor of Montreal, to inscribe the city’s Livre d’or. Only esteemed guests have the privilege of leaving a signature or message in the city’s guestbook, solidifying Dort’s place as a legend in his home city.

“I want to recognize his exceptional journey, built on determination, perseverance and the idea of giving back,” Plante said. “I am so proud to have an athlete like you, who makes us shine, who upholds the values of kindness and support for others.”

Furthermore, the Conseil du sport de Montréal bestowed Dort with a medal recognizing his hard work on the court as well as his community work on the island.

In 2022, Dort created his own non-pro t, Maizon Dort, an organization that supports Montreal’s youth in their athletic endeavours. Maizon Dort is responsible for renovating several basketball courts in the boroughs of Saint-Laurent and Montréal-Nord.

“I think he’s a really great example on and o the court,” Chabot said. “I’m really happy to have him as a role model for our kids.”

Step into fantasy sports

The Link's multi-sport guide for novices

Dusty Goldberg and Wassim Batal

With fall quickly approaching, the NBA, NFL and NHL seasons are just weeks away. For millions of sports fans, this means that their respective fantasy sports leagues are starting soon, too.

Have you, a fantasy sports novice, recently been invited to a league? Don’t fret— e Link has got you covered.

Fantasy sports are meant to be played among friends. Many leagues add buy-ins, with the winner taking home the pot.

Just as important, though, are punishments for last-place nishers: the tried-and-true karaoke night, a loser-funded week of co ees, or even just changing your display name to something humiliating. You can always join online leagues, but you’ll surely miss out on some of the fun.

Once you’re in the league, it’s time to prepare for the dra . Most dra s are set as snake dra s: in round one, teams select their picks in a 1-10 dra order. In round two, the order “snakes,” sending the picking order back the way it came. is cycle continues until all roster spots are lled.

Many of the factors that determine a player’s performance can’t be predicted. However, there are some things you can look for. Are their past statistics consistent, or trending up or down? How many games did they play last season? You can compare your draft hopeful’s statistics from last year with those of players at the same position.

@wassimbatal

To maximize your team’s potential, you need a positionally diverse group of players. Dra too many of them at the same position, and you run the risk of benching some of your top players when they play the same night.

Depending on your sport, you’ll want to prioritize certain positions early in the dra . For example, in fantasy hockey, you’ll want to prioritize forwards early in the dra , because it’s harder to get high-value players at that position later in the dra . e same is true for centers in basketball, and running backs and wide receivers in American football.

Once the season begins, you just need to play your players. It’s a good idea to follow sports media pages to stay up to date on injuries. If someone on your team gets a long-term injury, you’ll have to assess if they’re worth keeping or if you’re better o dropping them in favour of another.

e waiver wire is a pool of undra ed players that can be dropped and picked up at will. It’s important to check the waivers as minutes shi throughout the year. Trades, injuries and suspensions mean that certain players can see a drastic rise or decline in production throughout the season.

A fair warning to the reader: following these guidelines will not guarantee success; they are simply a few tips to get you started. Fantasy sports are based heavily on luck because profession-

Dort also hosts his own youth basketball camp, Lu the Beast Camp, in Montreal every summer as of August 2021.

e day a er the ceremony, a parade for the champion was held in Pilon Park, Montréal-Nord, in the neighbourhood where Dort was raised. Artists painted eight-foot-tall murals of Dort as a documentary about the hometown hero played on the main stage.

Among these displays were activity booths, free food, and tons of Montrealers huddled around a recently renovated basketball court, hoping for a chance to step onto the asphalt.

“It’s always a pleasure to come back,” Dort said to the crowd. “Every summer I come out here and enjoy my o season in Montreal. I carry Montreal on my back […] I’m so happy to represent Montreal wherever I go.”

Dort eventually arrived, followed by a Haitian marching band, a nod to his close ties to Montreal's Haitian community. He took a victory lap of the park before stepping on stage to speak to the crowd. Both Montreal's Haitian community and youth athletic groups turned out in massive numbers to support him.

Dort made another appearance later that night at the Montreal Alouettes home game against the Winnipeg Blue Bombers. He paraded around Percival Molson Memorial Stadium to roaring applause, the Larry O’Brien Trophy in his arms, capping o a busy couple of days for the shooting guard.

Dort and the under play their rst game of the 2025-26 season on Oct. 21 against the Houston Rockets. With a largely unchanged roster, Oklahoma City looks poised for another strong season and a deep playo run.

While this is only the second time the Larry O’Brien Trophy has paraded around Montreal, it will hopefully be the second of many more to come.

al sports are unpredictable. As any sports fan will tell you, that’s what makes it worth watching.

So whether you’re vying for rst place or just fending o last, remember to have fun.

DORT, A MONTREAL NATIVE, CELEBRATED HIS NBA CHAMPIONSHIP VICTORY WITH THE CITY BY SIGNING THE LIVRE D'OR. COURTESY ALLEN MCINNIS

e hidden debt of fashion’s understated aesthetic

While American Eagle has a registered Republican boast about her “great genes,” Ralph Lauren proves that success is achieved through diversity

@yasminenowroozi

August reminded us yet again that fashion still hasn’t learned its lesson.

Leading denim retailer, American Eagle (AE), rolled out an ad with Euphoria actress Sydney Sweeney, ending on the cheeky line: “Sydney Sweeney has great jeans.”

Intended as playful, the “genes” wordplay fell at. Instead, it sparked outrage, with critics accusing the brand of tone-deafness for casting a white actress as the embodiment of “great genes” and raising questions about fashion’s preference for whiteness.

AE has since released a statement declaring, “ e campaign is and always was about the jeans. Her jeans. Her story. We’ll continue to celebrate how everyone wears their AE jeans with condence, their way.”

Yet, the statement reads more like damage control than genuine accountability.

Aside from the campaign’s use of eugenics-leaning language, AE’s choice of its ambassador is questionable.

In August 2023, the blonde actress was caught hosting a MAGA-themed birthday party for her mother. When leaked photos revealed partygoers sporting MAGA-inspired caps and “blue lives matter” tops, Sweeney simply brushed it o by claiming guests “thought it would be funny to wear.”

Something is unsettling about a blonde, registered Republican woman boasting about her “great jeans.” Whether AE was aware of Sweeney's previous controversy or not, it puts into question the intentionality behind the campaign’s message.

Right-wing individuals have since expressed their support and praise for the actress, declaring her their Aryan princess.

While some individuals may claim this situation is being blown out of proportion by liberals, the evidence says otherwise. In fact, with the recent popularisation of far-right politics trickling into Western societies, the public is not wrong to draw such conclusions from AE’s campaign.

Fashion has always been cyclical, re ecting politics, econom-

e radical value of doing nothing

ics and societal norms of that speci c period. roughout this past year, the fashion world broke from its ties to maximalism and welcomed a more conservative approach to dressing. Logos and bold colours are no longer the norm. Instead, hues of beige, cream and eggshell ll the racks of various clothing stores and catwalks.

Branded as “quiet luxury,” this new trend in modern fashion prides itself on a polished look with muted tones and modest silhouettes as a means of discreetly communicating wealth. is aesthetic is not achievable via fast fashion but rather with elevated basics from brands like e Row, Khaite and Phoebe Philo.

However, many consumers note the trend's segregating undertones. It is the speci cation of “quiet luxury” being the inverse of logomania, an aesthetic popularised by the hip-hop culture of the late 90s and early 2000s. Its insistence on separating itself from a trend mainly marketed by the black community suggests that its exclusivity goes beyond just the price of a garment.

Much like the colour palette it promotes, it seems as though the only welcomed participants in the “quiet luxury” aesthetic are white. e world of luxury fashion seldom associates blackness with “sleek” and “chic,” but rather with gaudiness. Quiet luxury’s adamance on exclusivity, classism and neutrality re ects our political climate and aids in perpetuating the same bigotry and prejudice into the realm of fashion.

However, not all brands conform to this cultural insensitivity.

Luxury brand Ralph Lauren’s campaign, Oak Blu s, is a celebration of the sharp styling ever present within the Black community of Martha’s Vineyard. Oak Blu s illuminates the people’s longstanding history with the island. Conceived ve years prior to its launch, Oak Blu s is the brand’s rst-ever campaign featuring an all-Black creative team and cast.

Luxury isn’t quiet if it excludes. Style gains depth and meaning when it acknowledges the in uence of non-white communities—and until it does, “quiet” is just code for whitewashed.

Why embracing boredom can be your greatest advantage

Claudia Beaudoin

Boredom might be the most radical act of self-preservation we have le .

In waiting rooms, people rarely look up from their screens. On sidewalks, most walk with earbuds in. Even short elevator rides are consumed by quick glances at noti cations. Every pause in the day becomes something to occupy, every gap smoothed over with stimulation.

We’ve been conditioned to treat boredom as a problem to x.

If overstimulation is the tax of modern life, then boredom is the new currency. It signals freedom: freedom from the algorithm, from the grind, from the pressure to always be “on.” Having the time and mental space for boredom is a privilege.

For decades, productivity culture has insisted that every minute should be maximized. Tech companies pro t o every scroll, workplaces stretch far beyond nine to ve, and even hobbies are expected to be productive. at constant churn has turned attention into the most valuable resource of all.

Boredom isn’t emptiness—it’s incubation. Some of the best ideas arrive not while we’re at our work desks or refreshing our feeds, but in the moments where our minds are allowed to wander. Neuroscience backs this up: studies show that the brain’s “default mode network” activates when we daydream, connecting distant ideas in ways linear focus never could.

Yet most of us have forgotten how to sit with boredom. We

panic at the thought of being unstimulated. People stream shows while brushing their teeth, scroll through emails on their commute and reach for their phones at any moment of pause.

Today, real privilege lies in having space to go o ine—staring at the ceiling, walking without music or resisting the urge to capture every moment.

at privilege also has deep ties to inequality: people working multiple jobs rarely get the luxury of an idle a ernoon. Boredom isn’t just a form of currency in the capitalist sense; it’s also unevenly distributed, signalling class and control.

But boredom doesn’t have to be exclusive. Anyone willing to resist the pull of constant distraction can reclaim it, bit by bit.

Meaningful unstructured time doesn’t have to be monumental. Even brief stretches of unoccupied time—pausing between tasks, letting your gaze wander or sitting in quiet—create mental space.

Boredom can seem uncomfortable, even unsettling. Still, carving out that space remains one of the simplest—and most radical—ways to preserve our freedom.

Yasmine Nowroozi

QUIET LUXURYʼS EMPHASIS ON MINIMALISM AND EXCLUSIVITY PERPETUATES RACIAL AND CLASS BIASES. GRAPHIC OLIVIA SHAN

TEDITORIAL EDITORIAL

Planting down roots Planting down roots

he Link is nding steady ground a er years of transition.

Over the last three volumes, we’ve experienced high highs and low lows as we’ve worked to strengthen our publication and create a more ethical workplace for editors and contributors alike. We’ve adopted new policies and a more equitable pay structure to address internal issues and ensure that anyone can work at e Link is year will look slightly di erent. As opposed to the sweeping reforms of the past few years, we hope to nurture the changes made by our predecessors and ensure their longevity within the publication.

In Volume 43, e Link moved back to a newspaper format after ve years of publishing as a magazine, increasing the workload for editors as they began publishing a new issue every two weeks.

Volume 43 was cut short with the publication of the nal editorial titled “ e Link Has a Problem,” which highlighted critical issues in the paper’s foundation. Editors were pushed to their limit due to understa ng, high workloads and critically low compensation, resulting in a culture of privilege at the paper.

To address these issues, e Link launched the Contributor Freelance Fund (CFF) in Volume 44. Initially deemed a pilot project, the fund ensured that everyone who contributed to the paper would receive nancial compensation for their work.

While the paper was taking strides towards becoming a more

Volume 46, Issue 1

Tuesday, September 2, 2025

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ethical publication, we still made mistakes during the volume. This led to factual errors, an article retraction, and a public commitment at the start of Volume 45 to take public accountability and to do better.

Over the volume we’ve updated our mandate, implemented new policies, and committed to extending the CFF, now integral to the very fabric of e Link, into Volume 46. rough the tireless work of past and current editors, we’ve done our best to push this publication into becoming something better. is has not come without sacri ce. e CFF has undergone adjustments to ensure its continuity. Since Volume 44, three editorial positions (outreach coordinator, features editor and coordinating editor) have had to be cut. We’ve also spent the past two years ghting to secure solid external funding—like a fee levy increase—which would allow us to ensure the fund’s permanence. Still, we bear this cost gladly—as both a token of gratitude to our contributors who give their all to e Link, and as a symbolic gesture of our commitment to fair compensation for student journalists everywhere.

Over the last volume, e Link was fortunate enough to receive recognition for our work and secure external funding, as well as a graduate-student fee levy. roughout all these years of change, we’ve remained steadfast in our goal to create reporting rooted in alternative and advocacy journalism, and to hold our administration and unions accountable.

If you’ve read this far: thank you. anks to you, our readers and community, we get to write stories that matter and maintain a voice in Montreal’s vast media landscape. We remain committed to serving you in every way we can, as we continue building on the foundations laid over the past years of reform.

As you ip through the pages of the Reorientation Issue, we hope that you see our ongoing dedication to this mandate that e Link has held since its inception.

Dozens of editors and hundreds of contributors have given their time, energy and passion to e Link over these past years to allow it to grow and become what it is today. It is due to their sacri ce that this masthead can a ord to work here today.

As we emerge from a period of change, we aim for this volume to represent re nement and steadfastness. We hope to carry the work of our predecessors into a new era of e Link and to ensure its longevity. As the future remains uncertain, e Link is working towards planting down roots and crystallizing the efforts of editors past.

Volume 45’s managing team had one main aspiration: to leave e Link better than they found it. We are eternally proud and grateful that they did. We hope to carry the torch they handed us forward and keep the legacy of their work alive for the rest of this volume and for the many more to come.

The Link is published twelve times during the academic year by The Link Publication Society Inc. Content is independent of the university and student associations (ECA, CASA, ASFA, FASA, CSU). Editorial policy is set by an elected board as provided for in The Link 's constitution. Any student is welcome to work on The Link and become a voting staff member. Material appearing in The Link may not be reproduced without prior written permision from The Link Letters to the editor are welcome. All letters 400 words or less will be printed, space permitting. The letters deadine is Friday at 4:00 p.m. The Link reserves the right to edit letters for clarity and length and refuse those deemed racist, sexist, homophobic, xenophobic, libellous or otherwise contrary to The Link 's statement of principles.

BOARD OF DIRECTORS 2025-2026: Voting Members: Iness Rifay, Hannah Vogan, Alice Martin| Non-Voting Members: Maria Cholakova, Varda Nisar, Lory Saint-Fleur, Geneviève Sylvestre.

TYPESETTING by The Link PRINTING by Hebdo-Litho.

CONTRIBUTORS: Yasmine Chouman, Manoj Subramaniam, Kara Brulotte, Sean Richard, Kira Minall, Dusty Goldberg, Wassim Batal, Mani Asadieraghi, Kristina Stamkopoulos, Zoya Ramadan, Jocelyn Gardner, Yasmine Nowroozi, Alissia Bocarro, Emily Wolak, Olivia Shan, Mira De Koven.

House Ads: Panos Michalakopoulos, Naya Hachwa

Cover and Poster: Myriam Ouazzani, Naya Hachwa

Corrections: Volume 45, Issue 12: On p. 3 in the article “Concordia University owns more than $1.4 billion in real estate property,” The Link stated that there was no information on the cost of construction of the new Concordia Francophone campus in the city of Shawinigan. This is incorrect, the Shawinigan campus will not involve the construction or purchase of additional real estate. Aditionally, the article omitted the dollar sign in front of the 1.4 billion in the headline. On p. 14 in the article “UFCʼs return to Montreal sends Tristar Gym into war preparation,” the photo was incorrectly attributed. The photo was taken by Santiago Jimenez. The Link regrets all of the above mentioned errors.

PHOTO ANDRAE LERONE LEWIS