Copy Editors | Dhritya Nair, Joao Pedro Domingues, Juliet Pieters, Mashiyat Ahmed Raina Proulx-Sanyal, Simra Javaid
Nicolas Albornoz | Design Editor
Aksaamai Ormonbekova | Design Editor Emily Shen | Front-end Web Developer Andrew Hong | Back-end Web Developer Yan Luk | Associate Web Developer Sataphon Obra | Associate Web Developer
Vicky Huang | Illustration Editor
Associate Illustration Editors | Chloe Weston, Simona Agostino, Jaylin Kim
Zeynep Poyanli | Photography Editor
Associate Photo Editors | Kate Wang, Jason Wang
Models | Divine Angubua, Charmaine Yu, Zeynep Poyanli, Nicolas Albornoz, Aksaamai Ormonbekova, Eleanor Yuneun Park, Chloe Weston, Isabella Reny, Selia Sanchez, Kyla Cassandra Cortez, Rubin Beshi, Medha Surajpal, Christian Zdravko, Brennan Karunaratne, Shontia Sanders, Avin De, Madison Truong, Nora Zolfaghari, Olga Fedossenko
Special thanks to: Callie’s legos, Aksaamai’s playlists, Nicolas’ spanish latte recommendation, Eleanor’s pistachio baklava rolls, Rubin and Genevieve for getting into a serious snowball fight, Audrey Apolinario for her Lana del Rey trivia, the drafty Varsity office for keeping us on our toes, and for the bird in our ceiling for keeping it civil.
The theme for this magazine was meant to inspire a variety of lenses. ‘Sugar’ is a pharmakon: a poison, a cure, a double-edged sword. We wanted to give contributors the opportunity to explore the bittersweetness of life, art, and culture, and for the paradox of sweetness to resonate through a combination not only of messages, but of mediums.
Sugar can be the word our loved ones use as a term of endearment or the word others throw around condescendingly; it can be the ingredient we dread at the grocery store or the one that cures our woes. Sugar is a concept, a descriptor, a flavour. Our experience with it is sensory, but also abstract and psychological.
This being the last magazine together, we wanted to diverge from the muted seriousness of Sacrifice to the playful vibrancy of Sugar. The colour scheme of this magazine may be delirious to the palettes of some, but for those of us cynics who tend to resist life’s sugar, it may challenge you to open yourself to the sweetness. However, we had fun curating this magazine — so suck it up buttercup and enjoy it!
~ Sophie & Kaisa
Nostalgia as a guilty pleasure
Sugaring the wound
Sugar and the Bee
Money as a love language
Sugar in space
The Victorian case against AI
The ethics of consuming memes
Stages of having a crush
Burnt Sugar
Projections of personal identity
Batter-up
Why we sail for fictional love
The history of sugar trade
Bugar sugar in music
A gentleman’s guide to catcalling
The bittersweetness of snow
Sweet Blossom and Grass
Shoegaze
Sugar town
The rise of the sugar baby
Ozempic users are Nestlé’s new market
Cosmetic surgery as a gateway to fascism
Welcome to Candyland
Dolce far niente Cavity
You Don’t Have to Put the Toys Away to ‘Grow Up’
Writer | Yasha Haider
My Christmas present this year was different from the kinds of gifts I usually find under the tree.
My sister spent $100 to make me the proud owner of a Tantive IV LEGO set from the original Star Wars. I was taken aback. We had talked about my unrequited love for the brick, but I was more accustomed to receiving practical items like a new wallet or clothes to shield me from the brisk Canadian cold.
of childlike euphoria turn sour?
1
In general, a sense of guilt washes over me when I ask for presents to indulge my interests. I had already been told by my family to put aside frivolous hobbies in favour of more useful — and therefore socially acceptable — pursuits, like school. These concerns swirl around in my psyche whenever I enter a comic shop, excited to purchase a stack of X-Men and Hellblazer
Why do we fear such self-indulgence? Does the financial cost of enjoyment intimidate younger generations who face possible financial hurdles? Does the pressure of productivity — whether outwardly imposed or internally processed — turn simple joys into guilty pleasures? When does the sweetness
Shame envelops a hobbyist’s consciousness when their passions are weighed against societal expectations. I’ve struggled to converse with my family, whose interests are so far removed from my own that I might as well reside in a different star system. There are only so many times you can try to hook your sister onto Dead Poets Society (1989) and Raiders of the Lost Ark (1981), or mention Marvel or Metroid to your mom, before they tire and remind you of responsibilities you’d rather not think about.
You come to internalize a perception of yourself as someone who approaches life with ambivalence, and only acknowledge places to escape into. My dad used to favour sports in his childhood, but eventually committed to academics, building a rewarding life shared with our family. Walking into a store’s LEGO aisle or into GameStop, I told myself that these weren’t places for someone mature, like my dad. It was when he dropped the toys that he truly became a man.
I had likened my interests to candy — they no longer represented the sugar rushes I once loved, but an unhealthy indulgence.
Adults often refrain from these indulgences to maintain a mature impression of themselves. Truth be told, I was ecstatic to open a LEGO set that Christmas day, something I hadn’t built in years. I realized it was the first present in a decade that actually excited me. I was able to vocalize such euphoria, knowing I wasn’t alone in pursuing childish thrills.
When I started university, I accepted the challenge of forming new relationships, and was taken aback by how quickly I connected with people on my wavelength. I could talk about the comics I was reading, or games I was playing — like Inscryption and Hades — all without feeling deviant.
In my research I found that as of 2022, people ages 12 and over represented a fourth of all toy sales. Our generation has been taught to associate our ability to let go of simple pleasures as childlike things in exchange for the transition into ‘adulthood.’ But adulthood is meant to grant autonomy from parental figures who imparted that narrative. We feel motivated to seek out the trinkets and media we enjoyed as children, internalizing them as part of our identity. We seek them again, no longer under the physical pressure of social
norms. Those items we were told to outgrow as we became self-sufficient suddenly reemerge. Not because we’ve regressed, but because we’ve matured and grown to miss the child we lost while being financially equipped to reclaim them.
These pastimes have even made their way into popular culture. The LEGO Movie (2014) didn’t just cater to younger audiences, but framed LEGO as something nostalgic that grows with
the adults who felt they had outgrown the hobby. The film’s protagonist follows the LEGO instruction booklet of life, paralleling the experiences of adults who are pressured to ‘grow up’ and live by-the-book by abandoning the distractions of youthful creativity and self-expression.
Recently, Barbie (2023) critiqued narratives around ideal femininity, and illustrated how an emphasis on ‘perfect appearances’ creates self-
image issues for those struggling to distinguish between their public and private selves.
Both examples take ‘childish’ material and tap into grown-up anxieties, affirming that the happiest adults are those who are in touch with their inner child. So, build that LEGO set to decompress after lectures, and play your Nintendo Switch on your commute from work. You’re never “too old for this shit.”
Courtesy of Yasha Haider
SUGARING THE WOUND
Sugar highs and sweet goodbyes
Writer | Ella MacCormack
| Zeynep Poyanlı
Photographer
I don’t pray before a meal anymore — only when I’m with my grandparents — but there is still something sacred about sharing food. I want you to be alive. Most people’s first taste of sugar is icing from a birthday cake, snuck to them by grandparents, or smashed up and eaten off tiny fists. A year older, punctuated by too-sweet icing.
Sugar is our constant companion to grief, to pain, to celebrations. Let your aching body feast. Gluttony is no sin. To eat is to stay alive. I want to be comforted by someone who offers no words, only sugary redemption. I want to sit beside someone I love and hand them something sweet. I’m still here. It’s universal, a language with no alphabet or grammar, only crinkly wrappers, sticky fingers, and crumbs on lips.
My parents would always give us kids M&M’s before telling us someone died. We would cry with sticky, stained fingers, the chocolate devoured too fast to outpace the news. We learned to dread the sound of that bag being pulled from the cupboard above the fridge: a crinkly dirge played before every loss.
I fainted at my grandma’s wedding, bashing my head against the wall during the vows. The bagpipes blared with the ambulance pulling up to the church, both at the wrong cue. The hospital let me leave in time for the cake to be cut.
The concussion meant I was not allowed to talk, listen, read, or watch anything interesting, just sit there while my brain fixed itself — but I could eat. Pat, Grandma’s new husband, snuck me extra freezies as we sat quietly on the porch.
The incredible athlete I am, I ran face-first into a wall. Crashing to the floor, 11-year-old me started yelling that I’d gone blind. I’m sure even the third-grade classes down the hall knew it with the way I was yelling. Someone helpfully yells back that I should open my eyes. Ms. Davis made me hold a cherry popsicle to my swollen black eyes — now stinging from the cold — until my mom arrived.
My first breakup: I was a lesbian; he was a Mormon. We were destined to be. My friend bought me neon blue cotton candy ice cream, three scoops stacked high. I cried the whole bike ride there.
I had to get stitches — four little hinges keeping my thumb in one piece. I was in the hospital for eight hours, my roommates stayed beside me the whole time. A hospital vending machine cookie was my only salvation. We ate pizza shivering together on the curb of the hospital, waiting for our Uber home.
In death, I give my body to flame. Not left as dust on someone’s mantle. No — I am sifted into sugar, mixed into flour, folded into butter, and baked. Turned into bread, cakes, brownies, cookies, a baker’s dozen of indulgences. Give as I have been given.
The celebrant solemnly holds up a cupcake. This is my body that is for you, now pink and covered in sprinkles. The room held its stomach tight, wary of the sacrament. It isn’t until the first bite, the first crunch, that the hovering hands dig in. With each mouthful, the fervour grew, powdered sugar wiped on black suits. Someone whispers if glutenfree options are available — there are none. The mourners eat until their teeth hurt, only crumbs and wrappers remaining, their grief secondary to the indulgence.
To eat is to stay alive. I am still here. I want you to be alive.
So, eat. Isn’t this what love tastes like?
Illustrator | Vicky Huang
SWEETENING THE CONCEPT OF MONEY
Destigmatizing money as a form of affection
Writer | Josephine Graham
Ifeel loved through money. I love other people through money too. I don’t love the money itself, but I love what it means for someone to spend it on me. I’m no longer ashamed to admit this as a woman.
Since childhood, I have been influenced by the media’s incessant hatred of the ‘gold-digging’ woman. Songs like Kanye West’s “Gold Digger” and movies like The Parent Trap (1998) demonize women who marry for wealth. This taught me that being a woman who likes money as a romantic gesture is downright immoral. Still, most people like to be a little spoiled, right? No matter their gender or age.
Yet, love expressed via money is often denied as love at all, it is reduced to shallowness and materialism. However, I believe that spending money on loved ones intersects with knowing and caring for them. To give gifts, you must pay attention to your loved ones’ interests, hobbies, favourite restaurants, and styles to truly treat them. Money doesn’t come easily to the working class either. Spending money on someone is a significant act — it’s sincere, romantic, and sweet.
Under the nuclear family, men are ‘providers’ to their wives and children. Some argue that the concept of the nuclear family was intended to entice women out of the workforce and open up jobs for military men returning from World War II. Western society now seems to be living in the impending death of this ideal, as many individuals and couples are pulling away from traditional gender roles.
Some men fear that the women they’ll enter relationships with women who are gold-diggers and will only show interest in them for their bank accounts. Alternatively, the concept of a gold-digging man seems to be of little concern in mainstream culture.
This begs the question of why some men today are upset with the financial expectation created by the patriarchy in their favour.
I’d argue that the issue lies in the lack of financial control over women, who aren’t as financially dependent as they were historically.
Women are outpacing men in educational attainment and widening their reach in the labour force. The modern woman doesn’t need a man to pay her bills — she needs a man to show her romance.
Romance requires effort, attention, tenderness, and care. With my money, I want to be a good giftgiver, a good date planner, and a real romantic, and I expect all those roles fulfilled in return.
A man doesn’t need to give me some cash so that I’ll ‘give him some sugar.’ I expect us to spend our money considerately on each other as displays of affection, and exchange sugar for sugar.
Rather than something superficial, I prefer to understand money as a middleman that obscures love and its direct relation to labour.
My first boyfriend gifted me a $400 necklace. At a wage of about $17 an hour, he dedicated 23.5 hours — nearly a whole day — of his life to make me feel special. Isn’t that romantic? Isn’t the gift all the sweeter because he spent hours under the stress of a McDonald’s kitchen for me?
I felt guilty receiving this gift and asked him to return it. He refused, even though we could both feel our relationship coming to an end. He said that the gift was for me as his best friend, not just his girlfriend. He told me that in a time of need, long after we didn’t know each other anymore, I could sell it if I wanted to.
That necklace wasn’t just $400 given and received, it was a goodbye care package and a symbol of unrelenting love. He turned money into something incommensurable. He turned money into sugar.
Spending money on or with him didn’t feel like a loss, I always gained something; a new experience, some good food, or a smile on his face. I asked him once if I contributed enough to the relationship since he spent more money on me than I did on him. He held my face in his hands and answered me: “You don’t have to do anything.”
Love doesn’t have to be transactional, even when people use currency to show it. The money we earn in this life does not have to die with us. It can be about using it to love people for the sake of loving them.
RATHER THAN SOMETHING SUPERFICIAL, I PREFER TO UNDERSTAND MONEY AS A MIDDLEMAN THAT OBSCURES LOVE AND ITS DIRECT RELATION TO LABOUR.
SUGAR IN SPACE
Across all of space history, sweets fueled astronauts both physically and emotionally
Illustrator | Jailyn Kim
Maple cream cookies and maple syrup are scheduled to fly to the moon this year, alongside other sweets and the Artemis II astronauts. So what makes sugar in space so important, and why does it take a team of experts to send something as simple as a snack to the stars?
Sending food into space is no small feat. Astronauts operate in an environment where space is tight, weight is critical, and every item must justify its presence. Take the Canasnack, Canada’s custom-designed treat for space exploration. Shaped like a maple leaf, this circular delight is both a nod to Canadian heritage and a nutritional powerhouse. Developed over five months by a large team of researchers, the Canasnack is carefully balanced with the perfect mix of sugar and fibre to provide energy while supporting astronauts’ metabolic health in microgravity. For astronauts, far from Earth in the confines of a spacecraft, familiar flavours provide a comforting link to home. Sweet treats in particular have played a historical role in space missions.
Sugar does more than satisfy cravings — it plays a surprising role in astronauts’ physical well-being. Life in space is demanding and the absence of Earth’s gravitational pull is very challenging for our bodies. Microgravity alters metabolism, causes muscle loss, reduces bone
density, and changes how the body absorbs nutrients. Astronauts often experience weight loss during missions, making it crucial to ensure they consume enough calories. Quick-digesting sugars provide an immediate source of energy, which is vital during long work days aboard the spacecraft.
Beyond the physical demands, astronauts face the added stress of rigorous nutritional monitoring. Before, during, and after their missions, they undergo extensive assessments, including blood and urine analysis, to track their bone health and nutrient levels. In-flight, they log their meals in a computerized food frequency questionnaire, allowing nutrition specialists on Earth to analyze their intake in real-time and make necessary adjustments. Space exploration is as much a psychological challenge as a physical one.
In 1961, Yuri Gagarin became the first human in space. He had a dessert of chocolate spread from a metal tube aboard his Vostok 1 mission. Today, astronauts enjoy a much more expanded menu with culturally diverse options. Mir — the largest artificial satellite after the International Space Station — hosted one of the first examples of intercultural sweet exchange in space, with the French astronaut Jean-Loup Chrétien bringing chocolate with him during his first visit. Italian astronauts alongside Chrétien famously brewed espresso in zero gravity, while
Chinese astronauts on the Tianhe module enjoyed peach juice and sweet congee with osmanthus.
These culinary preferences reflect not only individual tastes but also the diverse cultures that make up the international space community. In a spacecraft where collaboration is critical, sharing food becomes a way of sharing identity, fostering camaraderie, and reducing astronauts’ psychological distance from Earth. Sweet treats are often tied to memories of home and can combat feelings of isolation and homesickness.
Amid these challenges, familiar and enjoyable foods take on an even greater significance. Astronauts leave behind the familiar comforts of Earth for a stark, isolated environment. Something as simple as enjoying maple syrup on a space biscuit or sipping fruit juice can evoke feelings of normalcy and joy.
As we look toward long-term missions to Mars or permanent lunar bases, the role of food in sustaining the physical wellness of astronauts will become even more critical. Innovations like the Canasnack and other culturally significant treats will likely continue to evolve, ensuring astronauts can stay healthy, happy, and connected to Earth. For now, maple cream cookies and other sweet delights remind us that even among the stars, the simple pleasures of Earthly life remain essential. Sugar isn’t just a luxury in space — it’s a link to who we are.
Writer & Illustrator | Elena Osipyan
In a spacecraft where collaboration is critical, sharing food becomes a way of sharing identity, fostering camaraderie, and reducing astronauts’ psychological distance from Earth.
“Sweetness and Light:”
The case against artificial intelligence
What the Victorians can tell us about
beauty
Writer | Isabella Reny
A shared idea of beauty is something we are losing.
Humans have long created and recreated ideas of beauty in art, but the enjoyment of art has been reduced to a focus on profit. Artificial intelligent (AI) image generators like Midjourney or Dall-E are valued for their ease and speed of creation. Advocates argue that these tools allow artists to work faster and more cost-effectively. Yet, when I see the works these programs produce, they often seem to lack the sweetness found in traditional art.
Matthew Arnold — a cultural critic and essayist in the Victorian era — is best known for his book, Culture and Anarchy. In this collection of essays, he explores what he considers two fundamental elements of society: sweetness — representing beauty — and light — representing intelligence. Arnold critiques nineteenth century English society for lacking what he saw as a perfect culture: one that balances both sweetness and light.
Many readers of Arnold’s time viewed him as an elitist and a moralist. However, when I read his work, I feel that his critics misunderstand his true concern: the Victorian era’s loss of culture. Above all, Arnold warns that reliance on technology and our pursuit of profit will further isolate us and diminish our ability to achieve cultural fulfillment.
Sweetness and light
When Arnold writes about culture, he explores methods of communication through history, art, science, philosophy, and religion. These disciplines, he argues, benefit society because they contribute to the pursuit of creative and cultural perfection.
For Arnold, perfection is not about individual fulfillment but about fostering a connection with others.
“The moment… culture is considered not merely as an endeavour to see and learn this,” he wrote, “but as the endeavour, also, to make it prevail, the moral, social, and beneficent character of culture becomes manifest.”
Arnold is often misunderstood, with many believing his treatise advocates for an ideal society focused on venerating Greek and Latin art and culture. However, rather than have a singular definition of culture, he encourages all different cultures to strive towards perfecting their creations.
For Arnold, curiosity is the driving force behind the perfect balance of sweetness and light. He described the Victorian era as “mechanical and external,” critiquing the liberal notion of progress for its overemphasis on individualism.
“The idea of perfection as a general expansion of the human family,” Arnold wrote, “is at variance with our strong individualism, our hatred of all limits to the unrestrained swing of the individual’s personality, our maxim of ‘every man for himself.’”
Arnold critiques the belief that technology is an end worth pursuing. New technologies — or ‘machinery,’ as Arnold calls them — are tools for generating profit. People often mistake a society’s profit and wealth for its culture, which they are not.
Today, society supports AI-generated art because it produces art quickly and cheaply, reflecting a culture that values the pursuit of progress as one driven by profitability rather than sweetness — or beauty. This relentless pursuit, Arnold argues, leaves society feeling empty.
This is because it creates a disconnect between creators and their processes of creation, and consequently, their creations themselves are culturally disconnected.
“Our common fault of overvaluing machinery”
If culture and sweetness do not qualify as machinery, then are beauty and art ends in themselves? To explore this idea, Arnold turns to the ancient Greeks and their understanding of beauty.
While Greek and Roman influences shaped Victorian education, Arnold believed modern education lacked the Greek concept of euphuia, which he translates as a ‘finely tempered nature’ where sweetness and light coexist. Euphuia demonstrates how people from various classes and societies can create works that reflect a collective identity while fostering connection within and beyond their culture.
For Arnold, culture is not simply about knowing the traditions and roots of that society, such as through Greek and Latin education. He sees perfection as an active process that goes beyond memorizing works or end products. By design, AI ‘art’ requires less effort than creating a beautiful piece by honing one’s skills. The less work we invest, the less we learn about ourselves in the process. Arnold explains that the best art from ancient Greece
has endured because it enabled artists to reflect on humanity. It serves a comunal function, connecting us across societies, cultures, and time.
This kind of effort is something many artists still value in their work. American sculptor Jeff Koons said in an interview with The Guardian , “I enjoy where my core of my work comes from — my reflection on everything that has any meaning to me.”
Koons’ interview also highlights the importance of euphuia in science. When we rely too heavily on technology, we lose the personal connection that is achieved through interactive processes of discovery.
Beyond what we can learn about ourselves and the world through art, our reliance on technology affects our personal relationship to scientific knowledge as well. Koons recalls a conversation with a colleague working in biology, who emphasized the significance of the biological process: “I believe very much in this process, this biological process, and the senses: the sense of sight and touch and feeling… I don’t want to be lazy in the back seat.”
Shared perfection
We are the inheritors of Arnold’s Victorian society — a mechanical culture with a preference for profit. If we rely too heavily on technology, we risk losing our ability to create culture and to truly engage with ourselves and others.
I won’t overlook the relevance of Arnold’s critique in a time when we prioritize the profitability of beauty over its significance to culture. Culture and Anarchy does not prescribe what should be considered sweet or beautiful. Arnold does not urge us to study old Greek or Latin masters and elevate their works as the pinnacle of culture. He does not aim to define beauty or intelligence, but leaves that to us to discover.
The agency to determine and strive for our own cultural ideals must be pursued separately from other distractions. By reducing our human identity and morality to profit and machines, we lose our capacity to connect with “real thought and real beauty; real sweetness and real light.”
CANDIED CHESTNUTS
the ethics of consuming topical memes
Do
topical
memes magnify our own terrors? Or do they take us out of the present — all so that we have a moment’s reprieve?
Writer | Arist Alfred Bravo
There are many sugary-sweet morsels available for consumption online. While one could indulge in a chocolate bar, there are other delectable delights — like memes.
Memes do not always have topical flavours, but some of the funniest do. Take those which make fun of some political ideologies. Currently, many of these popular memes glorify Luigi Mangione, the alleged killer of UnitedHealthcare CEO, Brian Thompson.
Why do we share memes, particularly those that touch political, politicized, and topical issues with an implied moral judgment?
In an article called “Why Are You Sharing That Meme,” Professor Emerita Patricia Prijatel at Drake University argues that “memes are seductive. They lure us with their slick and often caustic [humour]. Right now, we’re all a mix of frustration, anger, fear, and anxiety, and memes let us blow off some steam quickly and easily.”
Memes are a way for people to sublimate their emotions around societal difficulties by making light of serious topics. This means that behind the veil of humour, there is a lurking brutality to some memes, seen in the desire to destroy the political opposition and the sanctification of an alleged killer into a patron saint.
Can we blame people for taking the bait and indulging? If the world is going terribly wrong, don’t people need some kind of reprieve, a treat on their screens to get through the day?
A mixed bag: Misinformation, democracy, and political awareness
Prijatel’s position is that while political memes can increase society’s political divisiveness and polarization, one can be “a responsible user of political memes” under certain circumstances.
Prijatel believes that memes are unproductive for inciting proper discourse about political issues, and therefore suggests that insulting political figures or opposition is purely indulgent, and should be avoided. You should ask yourself what you hope to accomplish by posting the meme: can it facilitate a political discussion, or is it solely for the amusement of those who ideologically agree with you?
“You may feel you have found your tribe in a meme,” Prijatel argues. “But if your tribe is only about dividing, you’ll be helping us move farther and farther into intolerance, into a place where discussion is not even possible.”
Prijatel also stresses that memes should never compromise accurate information for humour. For example, when a meme suggests that Donald Trump said he would run for President as a Republican because Republicans “are the dumbest group of voters” when this was never actually said, it loses its rhetorical appeal because it is not based on fact.
“It’s simple to spot misinformation,” writes Prijatel. “Yet it is more satisfying to spread it.”
In an article published by Forbes,
Peter Suciu notes that although political memes can spread misinformation, they have positive effects too; they can encourage participation in the democratic electoral process.
“Memes may be critical to reaching younger voters,” Suciu writes, “especially those who don’t watch the debates and aren’t likely to tune into the evening news or attend a political rally. In that way, memes could be very good at energizing voters and bolstering support.”
There are other arguments made to question whether all political memes should be dismissed. From a Reddit post on r/dankmemes entitled “Political memes are worse than actual politics,” user nishanrox1111 comments: “What about memes shitting on [the video game company] Blizzard for their support of the [the Chinese Communist Party]?” The implicit point is that political memes may highlight political issues that go unnoticed, such as criticizing a video company supporting a controversial government.
Another example of an attitude supporting political memes to reach apolitical audiences is from user pokexchespin, who commented, “I’m sneaking leftism into my memes to spur a [communist] revolution.”
The good, the evil, and the candied chestnuts
I get the sense that there is a spectrum of views ranging from outright rejection
to conditional acceptance of political memes. Some people think that political memes are worthless. Others think that there are particular conditions under which political memes are fine. Suciu sees political memes as positive so long as they endorse democracy and not misinformation, while Prijatel seems open to them for the sake of expressing emotions, so long as they are used under specific circumstances.
I think it is worth investigating why we enjoy political memes. Oftentimes, within these memes, there is an implicit division of thinking into binaries, raising the question of whether memes perpetuate black-and-white thinking. By dividing the wo rld into good and evil, topical memes can smooth over the nuance of the issues they aim to represent, making it easier for people to believe they are on a moral high ground when they choose to take a side.
Alternatively, the thoughts of the late twentieth century philosopher Richard Rorty have led me to wonder whether political memes have a poetic effect that can enhance our understanding of sociopolitical issues, while also providing comic relief.
When Rorty was dying of inoperable cancer in 2007, he wrote an article called “The Fire of Life.” There, he states that when he was informed of his terminal illness, he did not find comfort
in philosophy or religion. Instead, he found comfort in poems he called “old chestnuts.”
“I suspect that no comparable effect could have been produced by prose,” writes Rorty, explaining his preference for poetry over prose. “Not just imagery, but also rhyme and rhythm were needed to do the job. In lines such as these, all three conspire to produce a degree of compression, and thus of impact, that only verse can achieve.”
Rorty later concludes, “I now wish that I had spent somewhat more of my life with verse… I would have lived more fully if I had been able to rattle off more old chestnuts — just as I would have if I had made more close friends.”
Poetic elements of style such as imagery, rhyme, and rhythm impacted Rorty more than prose could. He felt that he would have lived a fuller life if he could engage with such artistry. Furthermore, considering how Rorty was comforted by poetry related to death, they allowed him to get a clarity.
What if topical memes can be viewed as analogues to poetry? Like poetry, memes convey imagery, except pixels do the heavy lifting instead of words. Memes also have stylistic, snappy wordplay. If we take topical memes as a contemporary of poetry — a sugary variant of what Rorty called “old chestnuts” — then we can use Rorty’s literary experience
as a site for reflection.
Do topical memes help us live a fuller life in the same way that poetry helped Rorty? When faced with the current terrors of the world — events that give people an impending sense of doom — can these topical memes give us comfort?
At the same time: just as poetry helped Rorty see death more clearly, do topical memes magnify our own terrors? Or do they take us out of the present — all so that we have a moment’s reprieve?
My belief is that some memes do offer insight, and others are purely escapist. When memes avoid misinformation, their comedic effects allow us to gain critical distance from a situation while also comforting us. In other words, comedy can give us new perspectives while also giving us comfort. Alternatively, when memes are based on misinformation or fantastical speculation, they pull us out of our lived experiences by making shaky connections to reality.
Far from being a relativist, my aim has been to establish the functions of topical memes in our everyday lives; conceptualizations of how memes function or might function for us. When we have a deeper understanding of how topical memes affect us, we can more clearly answer for ourselves, under what conditions are political memes good?
Oftentimes, within these memes, there is an implicit division of thinking into binaries, raising the question of whether memes perpetuate black-and-white thinking.
Writer | Jilliane Tan
The five stages (songs) of having a crush
What having a crush feels and sounds like
Stage 1
Walking the U of T hallways is dangerous. A single glance at the wrong — or right — person can spark an intense reaction that lingers for months, even years. It can affect anyone who isn’t careful, leading to thoughts like, ‘I wonder what they had for breakfast this morning.’
They call it the “lovebug.”
I leave my phone in my pocket and walk with my gaze forward. To my right, a club advertises an event. I feel the urge to look at the table again, even though I have no interest in them.
An unfamiliar pair of eyes pierce mine. We don’t say anything, but it feels like we agree on something, our lips sharing the same soft curve and our eyes unblinking and wide. I break eye contact, realizing I’ve lingered for too long. I exit the building, replaying the interaction over and over with the same expression.
A pair of wings flutter inside my stomach. “I need to know who that is,” the lovebug whispers.
Stage 2
I tell myself it’s fate when I see them again — first in my lecture hall, then at a friend’s party I hadn’t planned on attending. I decide to leave it at that, like a mural I admire in a museum.
But the lovebug tells me it’s hungry. It scolds me, saying that a hallway crush stays the same if I don’t make a move.
I take a deep breath and try to find the best opening line — nonchalant but friendly, casual but cool. ‘Hey, I think we’re in the same class.’ ‘Hi, I think I’ve seen you in class before.’ ‘Hey, have I seen you before?’
I walk up to them, with the lovebug just as nervous as I am. It bangs against the walls of my stomach. I approach them and let my mouth choose a line for me. They smile politely and introduce themselves. The lovebug is having a dance party inside me. I don’t catch what they say; I am too mesmerized by how close I am to them.
“You don’t have a clue what you’ve been doing to me, doing to me,” the song plays in the background.
Fated — “Fuzzy Feeling” by Grentperez and Benny Sings
Beginning — “Lovebug” by the Jonas Brothers
Illustrator | Vicky Huang
Stage 3
The lovebug fills my mind with imaginary scenarios. I grasp for clues that offer more than small talk, their name, and their program.
I subconsciously fill in the gaps with my ideal version of them, “Hypotheticals” playing on repeat. Every sliver of new information keeps the lovebug satiated — even if it’s just a 2010 summer camp photo from their mom’s Facebook.
Stage 4
The lovebug needs to start paying rent. It’s furnished my heart with shelves and undrapes its curtains every night before I sleep. I get embarrassed thinking of a rom-com scene with our faces scrapbooked into it as if a higher being is judging my childish thoughts. I try sending signals from my pillow to theirs, hoping maybe they can hear me, and maybe they will make a move so I don’t have to.
I look for anything to keep the Lovebug satiated. I need to know more about them. I carefully open their
Stage 5
Amidst the crowd of students, I spot their curly locks first. My eyes brighten when I see them smile. I see their hand raise to wave at me, and I wave back excitedly. A well-manicured hand comes up beside them to catch theirs, interlocking fingers and guiding them in the opposite direction. They touch their shoulders and laugh at some stupid joke. They don’t look back.
I feel foolish for being hopeful, like
Instagram like I’m defusing a bomb, making sure not to accidentally click anything. My mind starts running with imaginary scenarios, fuelled by the bits and pieces on their page. I picture us going to brunch and downing mimosas, just like a post told me they did last week. They’d definitely share their avocado toast with me. I find myself smiling, imagining how inserting them into my life would make microwaving lunch and walking the dog a hundred times more fun.
— “Daydreamin’” by Ariana
I wave to them in the halls, noticing how long their eyelashes are and how their nose crinkles. I replay the moment in my mind, hoping I didn’t wave weirdly. The two-second interaction gives me enough energy to grin through the halls and skip to my class.
when a classmate laughed at my handmade valentine in fourth grade. My gaze lingers on the door they came from. I scold myself for showing even the slightest bit of devastation. I grab my headphones from my bag and stare at the floor as I walk, aimlessly.
“You know I’m such a fool for you,” The Cranberries sing into my ear.
Crushed...back? — “Glue Song” by beabadoobee
Stage 5.5
“Linger”
After a few months, I find myself at a party again.
In a sea of faces, I spot the one I’m looking for. They’re alone. I am transported back to the first time I saw them. They move closer, never breaking my gaze. My heartbeat matches the bass thumping in my ears, and my throat goes dry.
“Hi,” I manage to croak out.
“Hi. I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” they say.
The corners of our mouths turn up in unison, like the start of a choreographed dance. Our conversation glides through the night until it’s time to leave.
“Wow, this was fun. Do you want to see each other again tomorrow?” they ask. I don’t bother hiding the smile on my face.
Imagining — “Hypotheticals” by Lake Street Dive
Crushed —
by The Cranberries
Infatuation
Grande
Burnt Sugar
Writer | Yara Deabes
Your gentle touch, So saccharine — Enlaced me In your clutch.
Dissolved my doubt, Melted my hesitance.
You cracked my shell, My heart Lay in lace On your doorstep.
You left it there, On cold, cracked steps, To wither, And crumble Away.
You hardened My sense, My soft innocence.
My ribs, hollow And crystallized.
You left in the night With your mellow Warmth Before it had a chance to Linger.
Your voice, once kind Now so alkaline.
My dulcet love — Burnt but never caramelized. Ashened Before it could bask in gold.
Projections of personal identity
wWriter | Cypress Chernik
hen I was 12 years old, I was introduced to the concept of exerting control through my appearance by a big shiny book on the art of makeup. I stole it from my older sister’s bookshelf and spent hours staring at the enlarged, beautiful faces within its pages. I disregarded the chapters on brush sizes and foundation shades to browse my favourite part: a section with step-by-step guides to achieving every type of ‘look’ a woman can wear. From ‘siren,’ ‘femme fatale,’ and ‘cat-eyes,’ to ‘schoolgirl’ and ‘innocent,’ I came to understand that every stroke of the brush and dab of pigment constructed a narrative, placing puzzle pieces to curate a woman as a whole.
Having internalized society’s expectation of my appearance to be a curated projection of an idealized woman, I didn’t notice when I began to incorporate them. When it was time for me to browse the makeup aisle before ninth grade semi-formal and senior prom, choosing between
certain shades of lipstick associated with seduction, or innocence came naturally to me. Feeling hot meant looking hot too. Applying perfume became an act of breathing life into my empty form, and, of course, makeup would continue to serve as my vessel for self-creation.
I was sitting on the subway, coming home from a first date when it occurred to me that I often felt like the result of many controlled steps towards a final artistic product. The guy I went out with smelled like Dior Sauvage and wore an expensive watch. I was wearing an outfit that felt feminine and powerful but not threatening: a short skirt, an embroidered top, and a jean jacket to add something ‘casual’.
My perfume was a sugary elixir from a purple bottle that made me feel luxurious and, more importantly, made me smell like violets on a dewy morning. I applied my makeup in my English lecture, carefully combining desert-coloured shades of brown and red on my eyelids. I wanted to make myself look spicy, but not edgy.
Photographers
Zeynep
Poyanli & James Bullanoff
My now-boyfriend always says that he would have fallen in love with me that day even if I had shown up to the date in sweatpants, chapped lips, and smelling like my fivemonth-old puppy. However, I’m not so sure that’s true. Every move I had made about my appearance that day contributed to an essence that I wanted to convey, using skills I’d learned tacitly from years of female existence. And I am convinced that the personality that I managed to project — was it even mine? — played a part in his subconscious perception of me.
In my first semester of first year — a few months before that first date — I embarked on a ‘detox’ from makeup. For a while, I forced myself to put down the mascara and brave the outside world sans protection. Leaving the house bare-faced truly felt like I had surrendered a level of control over myself and the people around me. Even though my interactions with those around me didn’t change when I didn’t wear makeup, I often felt like I had forgotten to brush my teeth or fix my hair.
In addition to feeling less confident without my makeup, it was like something was missing from the Cypress I normally presented to the world. In general, I tend to fixate on details about myself and care a lot about not just attaining perfection, but also presenting it to the world. When getting dressed, I often analyze my reflection for the way clothes fit on my body, deciding how they complement my features. Aside from just fitting well, my appearance needs to present an ever changing narrative determined by various elements, including my mood, what I inhaled off of social media, or who I’m seeing that day.
While all of this may sound obsessive, these thoughts are ultimately minute, fleeting parts of my day. I think before anyone steps outside, they wonder: what will people think when they see
me? What do I want them to think? After all, particularly at a diverse institution like U of T, appearance tells a story. Humanities students are stereotyped into trench coats, berets, and Doc Martens, while STEM students are promoters of hoodies and sneakers. While these are generalizations, the communities people surround themselves with and the ways in which these communities are perceived probably influence what they find attractive.
It’s hard to say that people only dress to appear desirable. When I was dressing for that first date, I didn’t think about being desirable to other people in a conventional way, I thought about presenting a desirable version of my authentic self. I think that people will often try to present sugar-coated versions of who they are, that portray traits that are important to them. When my boyfriend dressed for our first date, the cologne and the watch that seemed irrelevant to me, represented image and status to him, just like my perfume and eyeshadow were symbolic for me. Recently, I’ve been getting away from wearing clothing with the intention of looking my ‘best’, and instead trying to style myself in ways that just feel real. Not every dress needs to hug my waist, and my hair doesn’t need a hurried wash over the bathroom sink every morning. Although I try not to, I still think a lot about my appearance: do I look like a bookish academic? Do I look like a frazzled writer? Do I even want to look frazzled, or do I want to look composed? How do I communicate how I’m feeling through my appearance?
I’ve had people tell me that I look very ‘put-together,’ ‘whimsical,’ or ‘chaotic.’ The truth is that people’s impressions will always be a reflection of their own biases, and the only thing I can truly control is my own joy and comfort. Though separating joy from external perception can be difficult, I’m on a journey to try.
Joy Division makes my Bluetooth speaker quiver on the kitchen counter.
25
The music and the stand mixer’s whirring overpower my voice, so I give up on calling Ava’s name and settle for tapping her shoulder. The flour coating my fingers poofs into the air before settling on her ratty hockey jersey.
“You’re over-mixing!” I yell. I wipe the remaining flour from my hands and dust some off of Ava as well. I turn the music down a bit so we can talk properly.
“It’s called combining ingredients,” she said, rolling her eyes as she leaned against the counter, watching the smooth dough churn around the edges of the bowl. It’s rich brown, looking more like thick chocolate gelato than cookie dough.
Ava and I may each have begun baking at the same age, but I’m the older sibling who always knows best. I lord this over her head whenever we collaborate in the kitchen, with difficulty. She’s a few inches taller than me and never lets me forget it.
I gesture vaguely to the pantry, signalling for Ava to grab the chocolate chips from their spot on the top shelf. As she stands
on her toes to get them, I remember when she was much smaller than me.
I had just turned six when the small and doughy humanoid became the newest addition to my home. Ava was softer and more delicate than wet tissue paper, with bulging, cocoa-coloured eyes that kept squeezed shut most of the time. I recall being so excited to hold her that I was nearly sick as she passed to me. I looked down at her perfectly round face with elaborate plans on moulding her into a loyal soldier — someone to even the losing battle that had always been me against my parents.
Unfortunately, I didn’t know that children are their own people. I’d also forgotten that if it comes to a child with genetics like mine, natural stubbornness wouldn’t let her be pushed around by a fussy person like myself.
Ava hated me, and I hated her for hating me. It took almost eight years of this hateful indifference before we had finally clicked together.
“I want to make stuff, too,” Ava said to me as I was measuring flour for back-to-school cookies. She had a determined pout to her face which told me she’d
probably hit me if I refused.
“Okay,” I failed to suppress a smile. “Wash your hands.”
Finishing our latest project, now packed in clear confectionery bags with silver ribbons, we load ourselves into the car to take them to our family-friendly picnic.
“Cookies!” Our older cousin cheered when we set the bags down on a table crowded with dishes. He sampled one immediately. Another as he mixed gin and tonics, and a third before more relatives got close enough to see what new food had been laid out. He gestured to us with the styrofoam cup in his hand, treats rapidly disappearing.
“You guys are” — he snagged another — “proper pastry chefs.” He smiled as he gave one to his own sister.
I remembered my mum’s smile when we executed a recipe smoothly, my friends’ smiles when I unveiled experimental goods for them to try, and the smile my sister made when she started learning how to bake under my guidance. Smiles of appreciation.
Ava and I exchanged a glance as more people arrived.
I knew it was the kind of smile I’d want her to see as much as possible.
When I was 12, I considered July 25, 2017, the best day of my life. Why? Because that was the day Moon and Qibli became official, obviously.
As an 11-year-old, nothing made me as joyful as sprawling on my bed to read the scene where my favourite dragon couple from my favourite book series confessed their feelings for each other. I was fully engaged in what’s called ‘shipping’: rooting for a romantic relationship between fictional characters. The relationship in question is the ‘ship’ and anyone who enjoys this activity is a ‘shipper.’
As someone for whom shipping was a core part of adolescence, I’ve always been curious about why I felt so strongly about the idea of two fictional characters dating. After some rudimentary research and a detailed look through a few primary sources (i.e. my old journals), I’ve identified four key reasons why we become invested in fictional relationships. Beneath the layers of fan art and the fanfictions that have become synonymous with shipping culture, shipping fulfills many fundamental human needs. Namely creative expression, emotional exploration, escapism, and a sense of community.
Shipping as a vessel
To ship is to dream: to fantasize, to wonder, to reimagine. Through fanfiction, art, or even just those ‘imagine your ship doing x’ prompts on Tumblr, we fill in the gaps of the story with what we want to see. We can rival a work’s original creator and become creators in our own right.
I’ve been an aspiring writer since I was 11. This goal was inspired almost entirely by my first adventure into the world of shipping. The middle-grade dragon-centred fantasy series Wings of Fire by Tui T. Sutherland — home of the aforementioned characters Moon and Qibli — was an endless wellspring of creative fuel.
While my early stories were poor rehashes of the actual books, I improved over time and my various holiday-themed fanfictions about my One True Pairing eventually evolved into a full-fledged narrative with original characters. Fanfiction and
fanart can be the perfect starting point for new creatives, offering a familiar world or relationship as a launching pad for their own ideas.
Shipping can also be a place to invest emotional energy. Welldeveloped characters can evoke powerful feelings, almost as if they’re real people — an effect heightened by further engagement with the content. It can be a place to direct romantic energy or express your desires when there’s nowhere else for them to go. It’s comparable to having a crush on someone.
When life gets rough, fictional romance can serve as a port in a storm.
Maritime exploring
Shipping can also help us explore what we want from a relationship in a relatively low-stakes environment; though no-stakes wouldn’t be accurate, considering the number of times I’ve cried over ships.
Some researchers suggest that this explorative aspect may connect to the concept of ‘love maps,’ internal guides that shape our romantic preferences and ideals for relationships. When we see a pairing that aligns with our love map, we feel gratified. Conversely, when a popular pairing doesn’t fit, we may feel confused, uncomfortable, or dismissive. Personally, I’ve always been a bit put off by the enemies-tolovers trope, and I nearly always root for the Betty — the girl next door — over the Veronica — the femme fatale — in love triangles.
When life gets rough, fictional
romance can serve as a port in a storm. Escapism and stress relief are core motivations for engaging in online fandom spaces; directing one’s energy toward an imagined romance can provide a soothing break from the turbulence of real life. The time I found myself most heavily invested in a ship was in eighth grade, a period when I — along with many of my peers — was experiencing intrapersonal shifts.
Belonging to a fleet
The Internet age has allowed shippers from around the world to unite in their love for love. The sense of community found in many online shipping spaces is often cited as a major reason why shippers become so deeply invested. As a tween of the internet, I was no stranger to fandom dynamics and shipping debates. Platforms like Tumblr, Amino, and various fan forums were havens — and admittedly, sometimes hell.
I made friends from different countries, living lives vastly different from mine — all of whom I never would have met if it hadn’t been for the simple fact that we both really wanted two fictional characters to date.
Getting on board
Of course, like all things sweet, shipping can sometimes go too far. Ship wars and debates over the ethics of shipping are common in fandom spaces. It’s also possible to become too invested in fiction and lose sight of the real people and relationships around us.
But I believe that shipping can be a normal, healthy, and fun experience. One that, for many, is a quintessential aspect of growing up online. As long as the boundary between fiction and reality is kept firmly in place, I think that shipping has the potential to enrich and inspire our romantic imaginations.
So the next time you feel butterflies when your two favourites appear on screen, or have the overpowering urge to scream into a pillow after reading a dramatic love confession, just know that what you’re experiencing is normal, human, and absolutely worth celebrating.
THE BITTER HISTORY BEHIND SUGAR TRADE
Understanding the exploitation and dispossession of land and people in the Caribbean
Writer | Jenny Yin
Content warning:
This article discusses racism, slavery, and systemic violence.
Sugar — an easily accessible pleasure in today’s world — captures our hearts through baked goods and fresh treats. However, behind every sweet indulgence, there is something bitter.
At the core of the sugar trade industry is a cruel history of colonial oppression and exploitation. Sugar cane used to be a crop grown in small-scale farming. However, its growing demand has created an industry that operates on the dispossession of Indigenous peoples in the Caribbean — where land is stolen and converted into large acreages of a single crop known as monoculture for the plantation system to grow a single crop. Moreover, profitability is maximized by the usage of slavery and indentured servitude.
Mercantilism and the transatlantic slave trade
Mercantilism is a common economic practice in Europe. Starting from the sixteenth century, it induced the development of the transatlantic slave trade. Enslaved people were brought to plantations in the Caribbeans where the colonial settlers would exploit forced labour and export sugar to Europe.
The wealthy Europeans’ diets luxuriously benefited from this lucrative crop that sweetened their coffee and chocolate. Europe and North America were fully dependent on the forced labour of African people, with control
being perpetrated by physical and psychological abuse.
Favoured for its flat terrain, fertile soil, and frequent rainfalls, Barbados became the earliest established sugar plantations and slave-based society in the Caribbeans. European colonial states soon penetrated the entire Caribbean archipelago, bringing with them the industry of sugar slavery.
The colonization of the Caribbean and the atrocities of sugar slavery left interminable economic consequences. Presently, Caribbean sugar producers account for less than two per cent of global production and exports. Yet many states continue to rely heavily on sugar cane production because the monocultural practices of colonization have left the area with no alternative.
Before the colonization of the Caribbean, land was incredibly fertile and holistic agricultural practices created self-sufficiency. Monoculture depletes the soil because there’s only one crop that extracts a certain type of nutrients, thereby depleting them. Eventually, crops can no longer be harvested from this land, and it turns into a wasteland, contributing to environmental degradation.
Monoculture agricultural techniques were the colonists’ method to mass produce goods at the cost of exhausting the environment.
In the 1970s, colonies were considered burdens, and the economically dependent sugar planters became prime contributors to the decline of the Caribbean economy.
Former Prime Minister of Trinidad and Tobago Eric Williams wrote a book published in 1944 called Capitalism
and Slavery. There, Williams argued that slavery in the Caribbean was established for economic reasons, which contributed to the profitable Industrial Revolution in Britain.
He also argued that the rise of capitalism served to undermine the economic contributions of Caribbean servitudes. When the plantations lost their economic value, the Western Europeans left the Caribbean and their sugar in the lurch.
The demise of the sugar economy is inevitable. In the book Environment and Society: A Critical Introduction analyze how capitalism’s commodification and underproduction of nature through over-extraction will eventually cause depletion in the amount of value surplus obtained. After centuries of abusing the land with the monocultural sugar economy, the decline in economic productivity and profitability is only a matter of time.
Colonization by the Wall Street
Not only was the Caribbean archipelago a monetary target for Europe, it was also the starting point for the US. By the late nineteenth century, New York City’s merchants believed that establishing an imperial banking system — a bank governed at a national level — was critical in consolidating the Wall Street financial district’s powerful position in international finance and trade.
The US government supported this process of internationalizing their banking systems, helping them take control of Caribbean local banks and reorganize their monetary system.
Economic Internationalization refers to a company’s expansion beyond the domestic market. Since 60 per cent of the Caribbean’s total banking system assets are held by foreign banks, these institutions hold a lot of power in dictating the Caribbean financial market. The local banks in Caribbean countries started experimenting with the issuing of sovereign debt, the funding of industrial infrastructure, and financing international trade. By 1914, the Caribbean had become the US’ largest imperial banking system. Consequently, when the US economy crashed and they stopped issuing loans and demanded that Caribbean governments repay all their existing debt, they were unable to do this as a result of the exploitation of their economy.
Growing anti-Wall Street sentiments across the Caribbean led to riots and takeovers of sugar mills, calls for nationalization of banking, and the renunciation of foreign debt. As American journalist Carleton Beals puts it, “All this inner mystery is forever imprisoned in each cube of white sugar I drop into my morning coffee.”
Since the foreign imperial banks were very involved with the sugar trade and slavery, the Caribbean’s resistance against imperial banking also offered a condemnation of how Caribbean labour had been obscured and hidden in the commodity of sugar. By rejecting to use the services of foreign banks, they were also rejecting the practice of slavery which is embedded in the sugar industry.
As American journalist Carleton Beals puts it, “All this inner mystery is forever imprisoned in each cube of white sugar I drop into my morning coffee.”
The fight for justice
I believe that it is important to acknowledge the victimization of both the descendants of Black enslaved people as well as the Indigenous populations that had self-sustaining lives and lived harmoniously in the Caribbean for thousands of years before the rise of the sugar trade industry. Indigenous Caribbean populations were decimated by unprecedented diseases brought by the colonialists, and the surviving groups were dispossessed from their land and its resources. These patterns were consequential to the development of capitalist colonialism.
The Caribbean has become an epicentre of the global reparatory justice movement. The Caribbean Community Reparations Commission campaigns for reparations for the crimes of slavery, colonialism, and dispossession that were committed against Caribbean states. This commission provides a model for the Global South in pursuing equity and development in the international economy.
Active efforts are being made in the reveal and repair of Indigenous histories. The collaboration between the Virgin Islands Humanities Council and the Florida Museum of Natural History has identified three main disciplines to further research into Indigenous histories: archaeology, ethnohistory, and ethnology. They are actively pursuing self-determination and are voicing issues of cultural
survival on a daily basis. When the state and the people join in unity, we can repair this bitter past together.
The future of the Caribbean
This land has long been targeted, exploited, and polluted for the benefit of the Global North, and the consequences are ingrained in the Caribbean culture and economy.
Progress can still be made in terms of reconciliation in the Caribbean for environmental biodiversity protection and restoration of traditional methods of agriculture. One of the main directions for sustainable development is to diversify the economy to increase resilience when climate shocks and shifts in demand hurt sugarcane production.
The problems and crises associated with the sugar trade in the Caribbean are not distinct, they remain evident in today’s context. The over-extraction and depletion of nature, exploitation and devaluation of labour, and dispossession of communities are something that both the Global North and Global South must reckon with.
On both international and individual levels, it is paramount that we dismantle these oppressive practices by not supporting the goods and services derived from ill productions and promoting sustainable development.
Illustrator | Jaylin Kim
SNOW ON THE BEACH
A look at usage of the world of ‘sugar’ in popular music
Writer | Julian Apolinario
Content warning: This article mentions substance use.
In 2022, as advertisement for his song “Diet Coke,” rapper Pusha T posted a photo to Instagram that depicted a polaroid of singer Lana Del Rey, covered in a pile of fine white dust.
For an unknowing listener, this ‘collaboration’ might have come as a bit of a shock. Pusha T’s braggadocious drug dealing persona and Del Rey’s darkly romantic one make for something of an odd pairing. However, when looking at the artists’ discographies, similarities arise.
In 2014, Del Rey put out Ultraviolence, a moody album about love, loss, and cocaine. In 2019, Pusha T was nominated for a Grammy award for his album Daytona, a seven-track LP about dealing narcotics and the lavish life that it brought him. When asked about this connection by Rolling Stone, Pusha T responded by saying that “musically, Lana Del Rey speaks to the same subject matter, but just on different ends of it.”
Del Rey and Pusha T approach their artistry from different angles, but often tread similar thematic paths regarding the influence of narcotics on their lives and relationships. Del Rey writes drug ballads — a subgenre of music originating in Mexico, which has made its way to the American music scene — by infusing sultry words with dark undertones. She paints pictures
of the perfect household as one with a husband and crack cooking on the stove. She sings about Bonnie-and-Clydeesque criminal romances, and being the mistress of a drug-addled criminal. Cocaine is used to colour these types of elaborate, often romantic fantasies in Lana’s music, just like she does in her song “Florida Kilos.”
“White lines, pretty baby, tattoos Don’t know what they mean They’re special, just for you”
While many criticize musicians like Del Rey and Pusha T for romanticizing themes of drugs and violence in their music, the element of sincerity must not be undermined when considering the ethics of making art about illicit and dangerous behaviours.
Compared to other genres of music, hip-hop strongly values authenticity. The genre often uses personal narrative, and places great importance on whether or not the stories told in song are rooted in lived experience.
When telling stories of violence and illicit behaviour, tales of crime and riches must often need to be rooted in the musicians’ reality to gain cultural acceptance. Similar to a felon-turnedrapper telling real stories about real crimes committed, Del Rey has played up her own connection to narcotics. At one point, her brand sold lockets with small spoons — thinly veiled ‘coke spoons’ meant to aid in the usage of
Photographer | Kate Wang
TO BE CLEAR, IT WAS NOT JUST THE BEATS OF CLUB CLASSICS THAT SHE WAS BUMPING.
doses of cocaine or ‘bumps’ — embedded within them.
Cocaine is a part of Del Rey’s personal mystique, separating her from her fans who may not be involved in the drug scene. The motif of forbidden substances gives her artistry a sense of edginess.
Pusha T also uses the status associated with cocaine to aggrandize himself in his music, but tells very different stories from Del Rey. Where Del Rey touches on toxic relationships and using narcotics, Pusha T’s lyrics discuss the luxury associated with selling them.
On any given song, he might rap about hiding bricks of cocaine from the authorities, cooking crack, or the glamorous lifestyle that the profits from his narcotics dealing provide.
Pusha T portrays himself as a retired drug dealer, rich from the profits of not only criminality, but also his position as a music mogul. Indeed, Pusha T — who is a brand ambassador for fast food chain Arby’s and was president of a record label — got his start selling crack cocaine and has admitted to doing so both on video and in song.
“A rapper turned trapper can’t morph into us
But a trapper turned rapper can morph into Puff”
Here, Pusha T showcases the transition, going from “trapper” to “Puff,” likening himself to Bad Boy Records head Puff Daddy, better known as P Diddy. Amidst dextrous and layered rhymes, Pusha T affirms his background as a man with power granted to him in no small part by a history of selling cocaine.
Pusha T and Del Rey are two contemporary examples of how artists use cocaine in their music to tell enticing and aggrandizing stories that create larger-than-life identities for themselves. However, music about narcotics is not a new phenomenon.
The myth that music from the early 20th century consisted of clean, sweet love songs is easily dispelled when you look at pieces like “Take a Whiff on Me,” recorded by folk
singer Lead Belly in the 1930s, and “Cocaine Blues,” famously recorded by Johnny Cash in 1968.
As the decades progressed, songs like Eric Clapton’s infamous “Cocaine” from 1976 and N.W.A.’s “Dope Man” from 1987 demonstrate that a cultural fascination and discussion of cocaine played out in popular music before the modern music landscape developed.
Now in 2025, we are only a few months removed from ‘Brat Summer,’ where Charli XCX plainly told her fans that she is a “365 party girl,” asking:
“Shall we do a little key?
Shall we have a little line?”
To be clear, it was not just the beats of club classics that she was bumping.
Musicians are entitled to artistic liberty to discuss any topics they choose, just as novelists and film directors tell award-winning stories filled with drugs and violence. Pusha T and Martin Scorcese are not so different in their choice of subject matter, and neither should face derision for creating art around the same themes.
That considered, it is important to be aware of how the media we consume influences what we consider ‘normal.’ Musical earworms come in many forms and while it might sound silly to suggest that listening to music might make someone want to sell or do narcotics, constantly listening to music about narcotics normalizes them as a part of one’s day-to-day life. When narcotics are a regular topic in a person’s media consumption, they may become more familiar and comfortable with the idea of doing or selling them than they should be.
Cocaine is a dangerous substance, and both the industry and War on Drugs have racked up enormous death tolls. Regardless, the edge and allure of narcotics continue to draw artists to intertwine their work and personal lives with substances. The white powder that looks oh-so-much like sugar continues to maintain a firm grip on popular culture.
FROM “FUCK OFF!” TO “YES PLEASE!”
A GENTLEMAN CATCALLER’S GUIDE TO CATCHING THE ATTENTION OF A LADY
Writer | Kanak Gupta
Imagine an average Wednesday afternoon. You see a beautiful woman walking down the street. She’s looking at her phone and doesn’t even notice how your eyes go “awoooga!” as she walks by. How will she ever know how hot you think she is? Worse, how dare she walk away without giving you any attention when you’re so clearly staring? So, you soak up the courage from your bros like the thirsty little scrub daddy you are, blow out the perfect cat call whistle, and follow it up with a classic, “nice ass.”
She ignores you and keeps walking.
Are you tired of paying women compliments every day and failing to get their gratitude? Are none of the classics working for you anymore? Are you ready to give up?
Stop! Don’t give up yet! I’m here to teach you how to take your catcalling game from basic to bitchin’! The times are a’changing and so should your technique, you little rizzler, you!
they simply are not serving us anymore. Here are some easy ways to upgrade your pick-up techniques:
DON’T!
The whistle. You know the one. You saw it in a movie or learned it from your grandfather. It’s a classic, I understand. But women are bored of the same old old tune, they hear it all everywhere. You might as well be a car horn on a busy street.
The bird call. With a little variation in your practiced whistle, you could start attracting all the birds and the birds to you (if you know what I mean). It’s catchy, it’s avant-garde, she won’t see it coming. You’ll definitely get a head turn, she might even think you’re a birder and invite you on a hike!
DON’T! DON’T! DON’T!
Gestures alluding to sexual acts. Duh. The only way to reply to a gesture is with a gesture. You should know better because the only gesture you’ll get in return is a middle finger. Be a grown-up, use your words. Unless of course you’re using sign language to catcall, in which case, carry on.
Dessert-related words of affirmation. “Sugar!” “Sweetie!” “Honey!” “Cupcake!” “Sweetcheeks!” PASS! If you think “snack” is safe, think again. Society is all about fitness now and these old terms of endearment are not calorie-conscious. Forget hurting your target’s feelings, think about the metaphorical diabetes and mental insulin you’re risking!
Catcalls less than five words in length. You made this mistake when you said: “nice ass,” just like all the times you said, “mamacita!” or “mami!” (no woman likes cultural appropriation). Even polite expressions like “give us a smile, baby” (“Us??” What are you, the queen?) and “looking for a ride, darlin’?” fall short in this department. Given that you find yourself engaging in catcalling to attract ladies, I know you cannot afford falling short in any other department. It’s giving tiny dick energy (TDE).
Remember the magic words. Your mom was right. “Please,” “thank you,” and “sorry” will add the sophistication your intended target isn’t aware you possess. The magic words might even do a magic trick for you.
WWHS? “What would Huberman say?” If you think a girl is fit, the compliments you give her should be too. Don’t pull her down with junk food, lift her with supplements! Show her you care. Try: “Girllll your fit’s so cold, have you tried iron tablets for anemia?” “Baby, am I getting on your nerves or is it just vitamin B deficiency?” “The sun hasn’t come out in days, can I interest you in some vitamin D?”
Confessions of love. The art of catcalling harkens back to Shakespearean times. Of course, back then catcalling meant shouting insults at the stage during a play or a performance. Uncouth, but still Shakespearean. Let your catcalls carry on that legacy. Forget your plebeian pick-up lines. Try this instead:
“What lady is that, which doth
enrich the hand
Of yonder knight?
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright! It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope’s ear;
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!
For I ne’er saw true beauty till this night.”
It worked for Romeo, it might just work for you. And if it doesn’t, try even grander gestures, a serenade — “Wonderwall” by Oasis is always a safe bet — or even a flash mob with your bros will definitely catch her attention, (and keep you off the streets and in dance rehearsals). Maybe, just maybe, you will reach catcaller nirvana when she catcalls your performance! Don’t fret if it sounds rude, it’s a compliment.
The bittersweetness of snow
The bittersweetness of snow
Writer | Ciarah Rampersad
SUGAR or SALT
If asked to describe your idea of sugar, you would immediately think of the delectable goodness of freshly baked cake. Sugar is the most crucial ingredient for avid bakers. For others, it may be an adjective you would use to describe your kindest friend.
I think that sugar is a state of mind, not only an ingredient used in chocolate chip cookies or a term of endearment. I experience this sugar as the sensory experience of snowfall, snow unlocks the inner child when we see a glimpse of the pillow-soft white dust falling from the sky — sugar poured into a bowl.
Sugar is one of life’s simple pleasures. It brings us happiness and comfort. This feeling is similar to how snow can bring out the playful child within us.
Snow is more than a natural phenomenon. It acts as an emotional time machine, reminding us of an unapologetically chaotic version of ourselves, sliding down hills or pelting snowballs. Yet, snow also channels a more tranquil version of ourselves. A version who makes snow angels or gazes silently at the sky as our coats become seasoned with snowflakes.
Snow falls with a magical stillness, creating a moment in which everything slows down. The streets feel empty with no cars in sight, and the noisiness of the city begins to quiet down. Snow mirrors the comfort of a warm, sugary drink or sweet treat, reminding us to reconnect with ourselves and savour the simple joys that the cold weather brings — whether it be hot chocolate from Tim Hortons or snuggling underneath a fluffy blanket.
This is why I think of snow as sugar. It reminds me of the sweetness of life.
After eating a lot of sugar, there is a sudden and persistent dry aftertaste. Similarly, too much time in the snow can channel the salt in us. As we stick out our tongues to taste the snowflakes, we are left with a bittersweet taste in our mouths.
The mundane activity of walking outside becomes inconvenient due to the endless layering of thermals, causing us to overheat more than our laptops during our lectures. The long walks to class, fighting the harsh winds and trudging through brown sludge like warriors of the Discovery District. Wearing our impenetrable armor — the Aritzia Super Puff — shielding our bodies from the nuclear snowball attacks. Snow tests our patience and freezes our faces off, bringing out irritability and frustration even from lovers of the snow.
I experienced my first snow this semester. I might not be the greatest expert because I never grew up missing school because of snow days, and I cannot even ice skate. However, one thing that the snowy city of Toronto has taught me is that snow can be both sweet and salty. Your first snowfall can make you the happiest person on the planet, but leaves you missing the warmth of summer the next day.
Snow is symbolic of the bittersweet moments that every U of T student has experienced. Running into King’s College Circle during heavy snowfall to build snowmen and snow angels, then walking to class with slow-moving steps the next morning, craving nothing more than to turn back into heated dorm rooms and under heaps of blankets.
Sugar is not the only important ingredient in making the sweet treats we love. The salty side of snow can be unbearable, but ultimately allows us to value the beauty, joy, and sweetness that a fresh snowfall can bring.
Illustrator | Aksaamai Ormonbekova
Sweet Blossom and Grass
Writer | Grisha Sharma
The plum blossom addresses the green strands below,
“Knotted grass rooted in earth, pale red ashes fall from my unseen fires.”
He replies,
“Delicate strands of fair spring, your ashes never faze me.”
She warns,
“But they are a sweet poison, deadly particles with a pretty sight.”
“Pretty poison I survive, every turn of the moon.”
“It saddens me so, to see you suffer under my secluded shade.”
“Misery is crystal snow, frigid but softly sublime.”
“You ignore the threat it poses, the dry soil dampening your roots.”
“Do not mistake my embrace, it is one of nature’s fates.”
“Is there no regret to be had from your tranquil touch as I descend?”
“Regret is a broken leaf, all a wasted remedy.”
“Luscious live grass, our bonds may never break, even by God’s thunder.”
“Grimly grown plum blossom, I accept them gracefully.”
Writer | Jake Takeuchi
Shoegaze hurts, but in a sweet way. The way sour Skittles scrape your tongue and leave sugary sores on your palette. The way wallowing in your own misery is entertaining. Shoegaze music is the perfect soundtrack for the general angst of collegiate melancholy.
Defined as an indie-rock subgenre characterized by obscured vocals and heavy guitar distortion, the genre is named after the tendency of shoegazers to seemingly stare at their feet during performances. Not because these musicians were so downtrodden and thoughtful that they couldn’t look up, but because they would constantly have to adapt their pedals from which the distortion was running.
For the shoegaze genre, the lines between grunge, dream pop, psychedelic rock, and other esoteric genres blur together to create a sound that is intuitive and unique.
Fall in love with the headphonefilling, lingering guitar — like running your fingers along sour strips — and the wispy, distant vocals struggling through the noise to reach you. The distortive sound of shoegaze is perfect for pondering the brutally handsome concrete of Robarts Library, for yearning for your campus crush, for studying your Reeboks as you wait for the TTC, for thinking you’re better than the city and yet grateful for it.
Photographer | Zeynep Poyanli
Who Sees You My Bloody Valentine
Belinda Says Alvvays
Mayonaise Smashing Pumpkins
Flyway Kero Kero Bonito
Star Roving Slowdive
dark Blue Smiley
Hunned Bandz Tanukichan
Zero Fazerdaze
a wasp appears They Are Gutting a Body of Water
The Video Dept. The Radio Dept.
103 The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart
Sennen Ride
Alien Beach House
Iceblink Luck Cocteau Twins
Thoughtforms (2nd Version) Lush
Head in the Ceiling Fan Title Fight
Starting Over LSD and the Search for God
Alison Slowdive
Soon My Bloody Valentine
Gazin’ Ringo Deathstarr
Dance AM Pinkshinyultrablast
Meaningless Whirr
Wishes Alison’s Halo
Monterey Starflyer 59
SUGAR TOWN
Toronto’s top three dessert places
Writer | Brooke Schilling
Working in the restaurant industry has given me many opportunities to try different foods. I’ve made friends with my fellow front-of-house coworkers, who each have their own detailed lists of what they want to try in the city. Our get-togethers outside of work often revolve around dinners and cocktail hours.
Over the past year, I’ve made it a hobby to sit down with my laptop and browse Toronto’s Bib Gourmand — the Michelin Guide’s recommendations for delicious food at more affordable price points. Recently, I decided to tackle my bucket list by visiting some of Toronto’s best dessert spots. These were my favourites.
CONEJO NEGRO’S “STICKY BANANA RUM CAKE”
When I walk into Conejo Negro on College Street, I feel as though I have been wrapped in a velvet curtain. I peek through it to see a room filled with bustling tables, all drenched in warm light. A hostess leads me and my boyfriend through the restaurant and out onto the back patio.
Floor-to-ceiling wood planks and tiny bistro tables are scattered throughout the large space. Our waiter asks how warm we’d like to be, and I settle at a table directly in front of one of the industrial heaters hanging in every corner of the room. The space is quite plain — not as curated as the restaurant’s candle-lit interior, but still
welcoming with its DIY charm. The clever winterization of what’s usually a seasonal patio serves as an excellent backup seating option for our spur-ofthe-moment dinner.
By far, the Banana Rum Cake was the best dessert I’ve ever had at a sit-down restaurant. A food runner appeared from behind us and set down the dessert we were to share: a golden cake nestled in a bowl, accompanied by a generous scoop of vanilla ice cream. The caramelized rum coating the cake was my favourite part, adding a warm, sweet crunch to each bite that paired perfectly with the ice cream.
The dessert cost us $14. Classic, delicious, and the perfect warm treat amidst Toronto’s cold freeze.
RURU BAKED’S “HONEYCOMB CEREAL MILK ICE CREAM”
Just off the corner of Lansdowne and Bloor is RuRu Baked — a custard-based ice cream store that “creates fun new flavours inspired by fond memories and experiences.”
The room is huge, and the floor-toceiling windows make it feel even larger. A palette of concrete and steel gives the space a cool, industrial feel. Behind the counter, an exposed kitchen prep area allows me to watch staff kneading dough, mixing in bowls, and working away, only briefly glancing when I walk in. One of their t-shirts catches my eye, and I find myself locked in a staring contest with a cartoon alien holding RuRu’s ice cream and flashing a peace sign.
I approach the menu board and feel overwhelmed. Their rotating selection changes daily, making my choice feel all the more significant. Indecisive, I ask the cashier for a recommendation. She points out that every bestseller has a little asterisk next to its name. So, I decide on the one at the top of the board: “Honeycomb Cereal Milk Ice Cream.”
I’m not typically an ice cream fan — it’s one of those desserts that feels heavy but not sweet enough to be fulfilling. RuRu Baked, however, does ice cream the way you dreamed about it as a kid: my scoop was drenched in caramelly honey sauce, and every bite surprised me with a delicious chunk of sugary honeycomb.
One cup ran me about six dollars, which, even in the harsh cold of January, felt worth it.
DAAN GO CAKE LAB’S “FIRMA”
I work at a restaurant in the financial district and visited Daan Go Cake Lab on the recommendation of one of the chefs in the kitchen. He said they had the best macaroons in the city. However, when I stumbled off Spadina, I was distracted by the flamboyance of their desserts and quickly brushed the macaroons aside.
Instead, I opted for a cactusshaped cake called “Firma.” The dessert appeared to be hand-painted, nestled in a pot-shaped shell of dark chocolate, and topped with a pink flower.
I bit into Firma, and the salted caramel and chocolate mousse interior was simple yet indulgently
rich. In the next spoonful, I hit the chocolate sponge, which had already deliciously soaked up the layer of salted caramel beneath it. I imagine it isn’t easy to achieve lightness in a dessert with such a rich flavour profile, but Daan Go seems to have perfected it. I left feeling completely satisfied with both the value and balance of their dessert.
Firma cost me just over nine dollars and is a dessert best suited for those who love excess but don’t want to suffer the consequences of a sugarinduced stomach ache. If you’re killing time between classes, Daan Go is the place to go for your well-deserved midterm study reward — a bakery that truly treats every dessert like a work of art.
Photographer | Kaisa Kasekamp
The Playboy Mansion ruined it for everyone
Does “Seeking” need a cover letter?
Writer | Nora Zolfaghari
With the exception of Harrison Ford — who I hope will continue to age as gracefully as he has been so far — the only thing rich, geriatric men seem to crave these days is a woman half their age to rely on for companionship. In recent years, this dynamic has become more common with the rise of specialized dating sites. On these platforms, affluent older individuals — often called sugar daddies or mommas — seek younger ‘sugar babies’ to spend money on in exchange for company.
Sugar babying is undeniably complex, but what is it really like?
Mainstream media portrays the dynamic between sugar babies and daddies or mommas in intriguing ways. One standout example is Emma Seligman’s Shiva Baby, a cinematic gem from 2020. This film follows Danielle (Rachel Sennott, the love of my life) as she unexpectedly runs into her sugar baby Max (Danny Deferrari), his wife (Dianna Agron — yes, Quinn from Glee), and their newborn child at a Shiva.
Throughout the film, Max struggles to hide his relationship with Danielle from his family, as she asserts her power over him by threatening his reputation — including sexting him from the bathroom at precarious moments — as a way to channel her emotional frustration. Ultimately, Max’s deceit is exposed, leading to the
collapse of his marriage.
Scandals involving sugar baby relationships are surprisingly common among men in high places. SeekingArrangement — a multi-million dollar sugar baby site often referred to as ‘Seeking’ — has frequently issued statements to address public scandals. In a recent announcement, they clarified that they “are not aware of any evidence that [former US representative] Matt Gaetz has ever been a member of Seeking.com.”
Conversely, on Sex and the City, Carrie Bradshaw meets a charming French architect named Gilles. After he generously treats her during their night out, they have a one-night stand. However, when Carrie wakes up, Gilles departs for the airport after leaving $1,000 on the hotel bedside table. Confused and hurt, Carrie is left questioning, “What exactly about me screams ‘whore’?”
Carrie’s sentiment echoes discussions among feminists on r/ feminism, a popular Reddit hub for conversations about the patriarchy. Here, a common belief is that sugar babying is fundamentally anti-feminist because it reinforces traditional patriarchal power structures. This perception is fueled by sugar babies typically being women paired with sugar daddies, in the ‘sugar bowl’ or sugaring community.
A closer look at sugar babies and
Illustrator | Chloe Weston
the theories surrounding them can only take us so far. In 2021, Seeking released a list of the universities with the highest number of sugar babies, with U of T ranking number one in Canada. In fact, all the three of Toronto’s largest universities — U of T, Toronto Metropolitan University, and York University — made it into the Canadian top 10. But don’t be too shocked by this revelation.
The Varsity interviewed a fourthyear U of T student studying fine arts about her work as a sugar baby last semester. Living on a tight student budget, she was beginning to fall into debt just to cover her basic expenses, in addition to her tuition fees. In order to sustain herself and make a little extra, she began sugar babying.
In the interview, she mentioned that she was “very grateful for that time in [her] life” because it helped her live a more complete college experience and reduced her stress over money. However, she also discussed the negative side of things, recalling how “being on those sites and having old men say the most vile things,” led her to “form a really vile hatred toward old men.”
Although she ultimately saw being a sugar baby as just a job, the messages she received were often inappropriate and outright sexual. She said, “The kinds of men who are looking for sugar babies just tend
to be disgusting.” Over time, sugar babying “was making her feel really bad about [herself]” and she began to feel that being a sugar baby was similar to “prostitution” — something she was not comfortable with.
At the end of the day, “most of them just… want to take advantage of young women.”
She decided to stop being a sugar baby when her relationship with one of her sugar daddies started to become emotionally complicated. While they had open communication and a mutual understanding, she “didn’t want to be in a relationship with an [older] man.” Although she acknowledges that romantic feelings can develop, she suggests these feelings are more often experienced by the sugar daddies than by the sugar babies.
Toronto is the second most expensive city in Canada in terms of cost of living, which is tough for everyone — but especially for
students who are juggling tuition and education costs on top of their regular living expenses. On top of that, we’re facing some of the highest unemployment rates the city has seen since the pandemic. Despite economic hardships, industries related to pleasure have remained resilient throughout history.
Regardless of whether we tirelessly reckon with the impact of the sugar bowl on feminism, we can reach one convoluted and slightly harrowing conclusion. Though problematic to some, sex work as become a necessary industry in these times of economic uncertainty. Flexible sources of income that work with a student schedule is hard to come by, especially in a city with job scarcity as it is.
The reality is that cash is king and the Robarts Library food trucks aren’t as cheap as they should be. It’s possible that comments like, ‘Wow, you go to U
of T! You know, I’ve always liked the smart ones’ and ‘Please don’t tell my wife and kids’ are common DMs sent on Seeking. This does not, however, stave off the reality that sugar babying is, and has proven to be at U of T, indispensable.
Beyond the classic image of sugar babies who are women with older sugar daddies, what about sugar babies who are not women and their glucose guardians who are not men?
And your grandpa yells “GOLD DIGGER!” at the TV whenever he sees an older celebrity with a younger partner — what does that say about our perception of these relationships?
The sugar bowl is upheld not by power dynamics alone, but by money. However, with U of T’s Sexual Education Centre’s levy being under 75 cents per student — despite extensive petitioning — it may be time to acknowledge our unofficial title as Canada’s top Sugar Baby University.
NESTLÉ SETS ITS SIGHTS ON A STRANGE EMERGING MARKET
— OZEMPIC USERS
Is the company once again profiting from a problem they’ve created?
Writer | Charlie Bendell
Photographer | Jason Wang
Content warning: This article mentions substance use and disordered eating.
A strange website has emerged amid the growing buzz around Ozempic. GLP1-Nutrition is demure in appearance — it boasts protein powders, milkshakes, dietary supplements, and more. It seems perfect for those on GLP-1 inhibitors — the drugs which combat type two diabetes and chronic obesity, users of which often need an extra boost of protein — until you notice a subtle trend. This website happens to only sell products from the food company Nestlé.
While innocent enough on its own, the website brings back vivid memories of Nestlé’s former scandals. Is the company interested in the health of GLP-1 inhibitor users? Or are they profiting off a problem the company itself played a hand in creating?
WHY BE SKEPTICAL?
The rise of obesity and type two diabetes has long been associated with the proliferation of ultraprocessed foods (UPFs). We are living in an era where these foods are often more accessible than whole, nutritious options. Multinational corporations in the food industry, like Nestlé, have played a major role in this shift.
Nestlé has introduced and aggressively marketed ultraprocessed products to communities that previously relied on more traditional and locally sourced diets. Countries like Brazil have seen an influx of Nestlé products replacing healthier food options with powdered milk formulas, sugary cereals, and processed snacks. As a result, many of these communities are now grappling with a seemingly paradoxical health crisis: individuals are simultaneously overweight and nutrient-deficient.
To Nestlé, those on GLP-1 inhibitors are simply another ‘emerging market.’
Ulf Mark Schneider — former CEO of Nestlé — justified the move to Brazil to Nestlé investors: “At a time when some of the growth is more subdued in established economies, I think that strong emerging-market posture is going to be a winning position.”
CLOSER TO HOME
Unlike people in developing countries, those in North America are increasingly able to access drugs to help them combat a collective addiction to UPFs.
GLP-1 inhibitors like Ozempic are designed to manage type two diabetes and chronic obesity. These drugs generate a feeling of ‘fullness,’ which in turn reduces or eliminates snacking and ‘emotional eating’ — the tendency to crave high-energy foods when feeling stressed or down.
In addition to lower appetites, individuals on GLP-1 inhibitors have reported experiencing a change in the way foods taste. Many on GLP1 inhibitors find themselves craving fresh fruits and vegetables, meat snacks, and acidic flavours. Artificial flavours taste ‘plasticky,’ while candy is repugnantly sweet. With one of the major side effects of these drugs being nausea, users are likely to avoid any foods which might seem
displeasing.
In other words, UPFs don’t have the same grasp on GLP-1 inhibitor users as they do on other people. To many major food companies, this shift in appetite poses a threat. It is not in the interest of these companies to suddenly start selling less food.
A STRANGE ‘EMERGING MARKET’
To Nestlé, those on GLP-1 inhibitors are simply another ‘emerging market.’ The company has already launched a series of frozen meals called Vital Pursuit, which catered to the needs of those on GLP-1 inhibitors. GLP1-Nutrition, a website hosting information and suggested products for users of GLP-1 inhibitors, even features the Nestlé logo, fingertipsmall, in a corner at the bottom of the page.
Ultimately, the question remains: is Nestlé adapting to support public health or are they simply reshaping their market strategies to maintain profit? The answer may determine whether this shift marks real progress in the way the food industry views its customers, or just another method for Nestlé to retain control of an unpredictable market, subtly reinforcing reliance on their sugary products.
“I’M DOING IT FOR ME, NOT FOR ANYBODY ELSE!”
Sugar-coating the phraseology of cosmetic surgery is a gateway into fascism
Writer | Emi Cermjani
Photographer | Kate Wang
Content warning: This article mentions systemic violence.
Two decades ago, American writer Scott Westerfeld published a young adult dystopian series, the first book of which is called Uglies. In it, he created a world where every person must undergo a state-sponsored full-body cosmetic transformation when they turn 16. This procedure smoothes wrinkles, shrinks pores, permanently removes body hair, and enhances features such as lengthening eyelashes and mending split ends. After the surgery, individuals are displaced, forbidden to return to their families and communities, and forced to live in the innermost part of the city-state, known as “New Pretty Town.”
On one hand, many adolescents eagerly anticipate the surgery, seeing it as a rebirth that would cleanse them of their ‘ugliness.’ Once ‘forgiven’ — beautified — they are granted entry into heaven — a life of glamour and hedonism.
On the other hand, some children dread their sweet 16, viewing the division of society into ‘beauties’ and ‘beasts’ as a profound moral injustice. These dissenters, driven by their strong convictions, flee their homes the night before their birthday to join underground settlements where others had sought refuge. Labelled as criminals, these renegades are relentlessly hunted by the city’s governing body.
Westerfeld’s tale is undoubtedly an exaggerated portrayal of a society shaped by the cult of standardized beauty. However, the warning bells he sounded 20 years ago are neither irrational nor laughable. If we’re not careful, we may one day find ourselves living out the consequences of such a world.
A report published by the American Society of Plastic Surgeons (ASPS) in 2022 revealed that cosmetic surgery procedures overall grew by 19 per cent between 2019 and 2022. Surgical procedures concerning the face alone
increased by an average of 18 per cent during the COVID-19 pandemic, including eyelid surgery (blepharoplasty), facelifts, and nose jobs (rhinoplasty). In addition, body-related cosmetic procedures, such as buttock lifts and liposuction, saw a 25 per cent increase in that same period.
In Canada, the situation is likely similar. Given the overlap between Canadian and American material, non-material, and popular cultures, it can be assumed that the cosmetic surgery trends observed by ASPS also apply to Canada. One thing is undeniable: the number of people in North America undergoing aesthetic cosmetic procedures continues to rise. But why might this be?
A quick perusal of Instagram might yield potential answers. As of 2024, Instagram is the third-largest social media platform, with around 2.4 billion active monthly users. Amid travel content and celebrity gossip, a distinct corner is devoted to plastic surgery, featuring recovery tips, videos documenting designer treatments abroad, and more. Some tags in English alone have amassed impressive numbers: #Botox has 21.7 million posts, #Plasticsurgery follows 7.9 million posts, and #Babybotox and #Preventativebotox boast 152,000 and 19,000 posts, respectively.
Instagram has no barrier to entry: it’s free of charge and, in most countries, not age-restricted. As a result, it is one of many social media platforms where adult opinions, recommendations, and ideologies are exposed to children, giving them unrestricted access to an entire world of perspectives prematurely. This online exposure increases children’s awareness of their physical appearance, often leading to a negative selfperception, and ultimately, a desire to follow in the seemingly benign footsteps of the gurus behind their screens.
The language used in the public discourse surrounding cosmetic surgery discourse often downplays the risks and harms associated with these treatments. Terms like “Baby Botox” and “Preventative Botox” are just a few examples of how cosmetic procedures are being sugar-coated and marketed as minimally invasive, restorative, and, in some cases, a miraculous way to prevent aging skin. Despite the complication rates of aesthetic surgeries, there are more pressing ramifications to treating these procedures as harmless
or as routine as a biweekly manicure.
To clarify, this argument does not apply to reconstructive surgeries needed after accidents or due to genetic conditions, the reattachment of appendages, breast augmentation following chemotherapy, or other medically necessary procedures. The key distinction is simple: while aesthetic cosmetic surgeries are elective and unnecessary, reconstructive procedures are lifesaving and essential in the aftermath of injury or medical treatment.
However, the sweetening of terminology surrounding aesthetic surgery is particularly harmful. The ideals and aesthetics promoted by plastic surgery can contribute to societal pressure that reinforces superficial beauty standards. If we continue to normalize these procedures without questioning their broader implications, we risk regressing to a social climate that resembles the rigid, exclusionary beauty standards of the past.
Normalizing these procedures not only poses the risk of reinforcing narrow beauty ideals rooted in fascist aesthetics, but it also lays the groundwork for justifying and normalizing other harmful societal ideals.
This might sound like an incredible leap: how could something as seemingly benign as 12 units of Botox be tied to fascism? Let’s break it down.
Fascism is a divisive political ideology that emphasizes the supremacy and insularity of a particular racial, cultural, or religious group. It seeks to unite its members under a singular, often rigid identity, and employs authoritarian control to silence dissenting perspectives. Fascist aesthetics are closely tied to this concept of group unity, often reinforcing narrow standards of beauty and behaviour.
When we look at cosmetic procedures and the normalization of certain beauty ideals, we can see parallels in how these aesthetic standards serve to narrow and control societal norms.
In her essay “Fascinating Fascism,” Susan Sontag wrote, “What is interesting about the relation between politics and art under National Socialism is not that art was subordinated to political needs, for this is true of dictatorships both of the right and of the left, but that politics appropriated the rhetoric of art – art in its late romantic phase.”
Sontag explains that fascism was not merely a political movement with little support from other spheres of life, but one deeply intertwined with co-opted social pillars like art, ethics, gender roles, and more. As a result, certain avenues of art and aesthetics are inseparable from their fascist undertones, because they promote a specific vision of unity, hierarchy, and conformity.
Sontag argues that fascist art during World War II was deeply bound to utopian aesthetics, most notably that of physical bodily perfection. This is especially evident in the paintings and sculptures produced by Germany, which often depicted the nude form while intentionally avoiding any physical imperfections. As Sontag observed, these nudes resemble “pinups which are both sanctimoniously asexual and (in a technical sense) pornographic, for they have the perfection of a fantasy.”
Thus, fascist art is not just the ruins of a harmless experimental phase or another characteristically unique chapter in the history of art; it is a disease that can spread through culture masquerading as art, ultimately aiming to eliminate all that is considered imperfect.
Aesthetic cosmetic procedures are proponents of fascism and they must be recognized as such. While often seen as personal choices, by undergoing such procedures, patients inadvertently endorse the social perception that considers imperfections as negative. The effects are dire, making beneficiaries of plastic surgery participants in the normalization of this beauty industrial complex in which non-recipients are demoted to the bottom of the social ladder.
If this trend continues unchecked, we might find ourselves in a society where cosmetic procedures are no longer seen as optional, but as a necessity to avoid social exclusion. The risk is that, as Westerfeld imagined in his dystopian world, society could begin to marginalize those who don’t conform to these standards of beauty.
Although this is a grave matter, it is simultaneously laughable how terrified we have become of appearing as anything but perfect, ‘post-human’ beings, rather than what we truly are: animals with bad cable management. No amount of botulinum toxins sitting under the skin will change this fact.
Writer | Nabneel Sarma
Illustrator | Vicky Huang
DOLCE FAR NIENTE, OR SWEET IDLENESS
Writer | Sofia Freitas
Dolce far niente
Illustrator
Chloe Weston
CICADA’S MORNING SONG
It is some sweltering, unnumbered day in late July. The structureless nature of summer alters the distribution of time. School is no longer in session, which makes yesterday, today, and tomorrow all feel like a lazy, continuous Sunday morning devoid of an end or beginning. Deep within the thicket of an unnamed valley that lies behind rows of tiny bungalows, cicadas drawl their rhythmless song in symbiotic harmony. The high-pitched, nasally tune makes the already-hot air twice as blistering. The full-bellied sun, in all of its glory, illuminates shards of white light onto the face of the rushing lake. Further into the brambles and brush, a family of ducks cut aimlessly through the water in a single-file line. Today, I was forgetful and neglected to bring bread crumbs to feed them, so they do not flock to me as they usually would. Rather, we exist side-by-side, mutually mindful not to disrupt one another’s peaceful equilibrium. The blistering burn of the rock as I lie flat on my back warms my body to the point of immovable laziness.
I will lie here, looking up at the cloudless blue sky, with no work or pressing obligations to attend to. Later, I will call a friend, and perhaps we will go for a walk in the evening once the temperature drops, talking about everything and nothing all at once. My face feels hot and tight, and I know that by tomorrow morning it will be flushed with sunburn. But right now, the heat is welcoming. The gentle wind, which combs itself through the knotted branches of overhead trees, whistles in harmony with the inhale and exhale of my breathing. In this moment, I am free and careless, and one with the forest that has blossomed to its fullest glory at the peak of summer.
GOLDEN AUGUST
The summer is young and ripe with the promise of possibility. I’m wearing a purple swimsuit and am young enough to do so without thinking twice about the shape or size of my thighs; I am just a body propelling itself through childhood, beautifully neutral. Even at this young age, I understand that there is something holy in the soft hush of rushing water. I walk barefoot on the grainy sand of the ocean’s front, trailing behind the moon as it rises into the cavern of a deep purple sky, wondering why I feel small yet heavy as I watch the night devour what is left of this August evening. Somewhere far off in a nearby field, a symphony of crickets sing — their lyrics abstract, but distinctly meaningful in a way that can only be understood through feeling. I walk out into the receding shore until I’m knee-deep in the water — it is cold in a way that’s not unbearable but shocks the body enough to demand undivided physical recognition. I wade further and further into the vast, black expanse until all but my head is submerged, and something like a quiet sigh of apprehension escapes my lips. Growing up Catholic, I learned that God punishes more than He saves, but right now, I feel as close as I’ll ever get to the intangible Divine.
A COURTYARD IN SPAIN, SOMETIME AFTER DARK
Travel is one of the few escapades that graciously allows for total anonymity, even in the good company of nameless people. Though I am a visitor in this foreign country, unable to speak
FRAGMENTS OF A STAGNANT SUMMER
the language and disoriented by unfamiliar architecture, among the locals I seamlessly blend in, feeling that my presence is the least alien it has ever been. Seated on a bench framing the courtyard of a small hillside town in Spain, I nurse my tiny cup of bitter, velvety espresso, drawn to the faceless bodies passing me by.
The night is alive and vivid; the siesta has passed, and couples in their best attire wander about, scouting possible restaurants for dinner. They walk single file on the narrow, tiled sidewalk to make room for those just returning from the beach, smelling of sunscreen and the ocean’s salt. There is a certain beauty in seeing people — locals and overseas travellers alike — at their most relaxed, unburdened with the uncertainties of tomorrow or the monotonous routines that dictate their lives back home, wherever that may be.
Travelling has a particular way of transcending time, or rather, manipulating the linear nature in which time spreads itself like water eating away at the ocean’s shore. While I am in this little beach town, I am free simply to exist, outside the monotony of my regular life back at home.
Instead, I make small talk with the woman working at the beachside café, whom I see every day at exactly 11:00 am and again at 3:00 pm after lunch. We exchange pleasantries as I wait for my coffee to be brewed, but there are no expectations of camaraderie. In two week’s time, we will be strangers again: she will be here, serving coffee to a new batch of travellers I’ll never know, and I, back at school, too focused on assignment deadlines and upcoming midterms to remember her name.
On this bench by the courtyard, I am frozen in peaceful suspension, with nothing to think about but the beauty of people and places. I have no sense of time, only the sliver of a crescent moon sitting in the sky. Is it very late at night, or early into the next morning?
I have no roots, no fixed past or present, and no need to worry about what lies ahead.
Courtesy of Sofia
Freitas
Photographers | Kate Wang & Jason Wang
I wake with cherries wedged sweetly into my swollen gums. I keep the thought of you fat and pink, locked inside my frozen jaw.
Grapefruits blossom inside my souring cheeks and through the skin, trickling sorely down the bitter tract in my throat. My lips split like strawberries.
I dare not open my mouth to let the layers upon layers of daydreams thaw around my sunken teeth.
When I try to flood this mausoleum of candied tombs, the thought of you still sticks to my tongue. You make a cavity of me.
Writer | Sophie Esther Ramsey
The Varsity Magazine has a circulation of 3,500 published by Varsity Publications Inc. It is printed by Master Web Inc. on recycled newspaper stock.
