The Varsity Magazine: Taboo

GENETIC EDITING: ARE WE SLIDING DOWN A SLIPPERY SLOPE? PG 10

A REFLECTION ON COPING WITH DISORDERED EATING PG 58

STUDENTS DISCUSS THEIR INVOLVEMENT IN THE CRIMINAL JUSTICE SYSTEM PG 13

IS YOUR FAVOURITE ARTIST EVIL? PG 52

VOL. IX NO. 1 | FALL 2015

THE VARSITY MAGAZINE THE TABOO ISSUE

TO BREAK DOWN THE DOLE The movement for a guaranteed income hits Toronto — and its proponents are eclectic, informed, and determined to see their ideas through PG 26

TURTLENECKS ARE IN THIS SEASON

Explore the Waters of the World in the heart of downtown Toronto.

BUY ONLINE. SAVE TIME. RIPLE YSAQUARIUMOFCANADA .COM

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! and Money

THE VARSITY MAGAZINE

Letter from the editor

VOL. IX NO. 1

21 SuSSex, Suite 306 toronto, on, M5S 1J6 (416) 946–7600 magazine.thevarsity.ca thevarsitynewspaper @TheVarsity the.varsity Alec Wilson Editor-in-Chief

editor@thevarsity.ca

Alex McKeen Magazine Editor

feaures@thevarsity.ca

James Flynn Managing Online Editor

online@thevarsity.ca

Sarah Niedoba Managing Editor

managing@thevarsity.ca

Margaux Parker Creative Director

creative@thevarsity.ca

Sean Smith Senior Copy Editor

copy@thevarsity.ca

Lisa Wong Design Editor

design@thevarsity.ca

Mallika Makkar Photo Editor

photo@thevarsity.ca

Julien Balbontin Illustration Editor

illustration@thevarsity.ca

Shaq Hosein Video Editor

video@thevarsity.ca

Jaren Kerr Assistant Magazine Editor Mubashir Baweja Associate Design Editor Sonali Gill Associate Copy Editor

A

LITTLE WHILE AGO, I rode the subway late at night. As I got on at College station, feeling reflective after an evening of indulging in bad wine and good conversation, I found that I was the only passenger on the train. It was simultaneously eerie and empowering to occupy a public space in such solitude. In a strange way, it felt intensely private, and my mind began to wander.

Where do our thoughts go in our most private moments — when we leave behind the baggage of our day-to-day lives and reflect honestly? Much of the time, the product of these intimate moments is not something that we would express freely to a parent, close friend, or anyone at all.

We are constrained, for a whole host of reasons, from breaching taboos.

This issue of The Varsity Magazine is themed “taboo,” but it does not attempt to make any particular judgments or assumptions. Its chief purpose is to make you, the reader, think. Taboos can form mysteriously, define political and social landscapes, and eat away at our indi-

John Dias Magazine Assistant

vidual psyches. Sometimes discussing them produces unease or anger, at others, immense relief or pleasure. The visual aspects of this magazine, overseen

by Creative Director Margaux Parker, reference the intensity of these topics through a minimalist approach, and by using bold, contrasting colour schemes.

The contributors of this magazine tap into taboos from varying perspectives.

Salvatore Basilone presents a piece on the experiences of students living with mental illnesses (page 38). Malone Mullin explores the emerging push for basic income, a movement inspired by daily hardships (page 26). Jacob Lorinc asks how we should consume art when we know its creator to be morally debased (page 52). Meanwhile, Linh Nguyen assesses the role of pornography in society, particularly among those whose sexual education has been insufficient (page 6).

Wherever you are geographically, temporally, and personally when reading this, I hope that you find yourself provoked, challenged, and inspired by the content of this magazine. For whatever it is worth, I know I have been.

— Alex McKeen Magazine Editor, 2015-2016

Copy Editors & Fact-checkers Kristina Adhikari, Matthew Boissonneault, Kieran Buckingham, Joannie Fu, Christine Glossop, Ariel Gomes, Alexandra Grieve, Zujajah Islam, Arin Klein, Darya Kuznetsova, Hana Osman, Lauren Park, Corinne Przybyslawski, Sigrid Roman, Sophia Savva, Lisa Sun, and Gabriel Wee Designers Maggie Cheung, Nadine Guo, Maya Hoke, Judy Hu, Cheston Sin, Chloe Somjee, Chantel Teng, Amy Wang, and Vanessa Wang Cover Design by Margaux Parker Photo by Mallika Makkar Special Thanks John Dias, Jaren Kerr, Mubashir Baweja, Sonali Gill, Tamim Mansour, Benny the Bear, Chips, and Etiquette Squirrel The Varsity Magazine has a circulation of 20,000 and is published by Varsity Publicatons Inc. It is printed by Masterweb Inc. Content © 2015

by The Varsity. All rights reserved. Any editorial inquiries and/or letters should be directed to the editors associated with them; emails listed above. The Varsity Magazine reserves the right to edit all submissions.

Please recycle this issue after you are finished with it.

Alex McKeen

Margaux Parker

presents

Contents Motherhome

Saturday, November 28, 6pm

features

20 Motherhome

One student’s journey out of Myanmar’s war torn jungles and his ongoing fight for justice.

26 Is this the radical road to prosperity?

Chronicling the push for basic income.

38 Some days are better than others

What is it like to live with a mental illness at U of T?

Etiquette Squirrel

Sean Jones

Crystal Shawanda

Sloan

toronto.ca/cavalcade

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Beverley Mahood

Plus Disney® Frozen skating party

Nathaniel Dett Chorale

Dear Etiquette Squirrel, I’m a fourth-year science student, and fairly studious.

Lately I’ve been noticing a higher-than normal influx of requests for notes from classmates that didn’t make it to lecture. How do I tell them I’m not their scribe?

— My Notes are my Lyfe Dear Notes Lyfe, Nobody likes a mooch. We’ve all been involved in enough unfortunate group projects to know that some people will always free-load off of those who are driven enough to pick up the slack. But consider the situation before rejecting these requests outright. Is it someone you know to be a serial slacker? Or an anonymous classmate who is a first-time asker? If it is the latter, award the benefit of the doubt, and

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On display Linh Nguyen questions the role pornography plays in society, given the inadequacy of sex-ed

10

The slippery slope of genetic editing

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“Terrible things happen”

18

Lifting limits

47

Ugly and endangered

49

Is it 2015 in tech and engineering yet?

An examination of the potential harms of the emerging technology

Tapping into the stories of students with criminal histories

Women at U of T dominate at all sorts of athletic pursuits

Mallika Makkar looks at some of the least charismatic endangered animals, and why they merit our attention

The gender disparity in tech and engineering programs is ongoing, and laced with prejudice: Shahin Imtiaz investigates.

share. You never know when you might need someone to return the favour. For the slacker, though, politely tell them that you have decided against sharing your notes, but offer to talk to them about the content. If they really only want you for your notes, they probably won’t take you up on the offer.

Dear Etiquette Squirrel, Why do people think it is acceptable to come to the library sick — sneezing, coughing, sniffling — disrupt everyone, spread germs, and produce a growing pile of dirty tissues on a shared worktable?

— Get your Phlegm outta my Physics

52 54

The good, the bad, and the artist A dilemma arises when excellent artists commit despicable deeds

Dissecting the dish In multicultural hubs like Toronto, cultural food trends risk becoming problematic

56

Who is Justin Trottier?

58

I don’t eat when I’m hungry

60

Tom Yun sits down with the head of CAFE, a group that advocates for men’s issues, to discuss his cause and the truth about MRAs

A reflection on living with disordered eating

Fiction: Tebori A story by John Dias about the stigmas inflicted on the family members of Japanese Yakuza

s Lifting limit

Dear Physics Phlegm, The offenders you are describing are simply overworked university students just like the rest of us, bogged down by homework in addition to other communicable ailments. That being said, they should absolutely be cognizant of the fact that their sneezing and tissue-producing in close proximity to other students only stands to spread the misery. While you may be tempted to tell this person off, resist this urge. It will only come across as nasty, and it’s not their fault that they got sick. Instead, do your best to steer clear of the dirty tissues (seriously, humans can be gross) and move to another table. If the situation gets truly out of hand, ask the library to post more notices about using hand sanitizers and masks during cold-and-flu season.

Dear Etiquette Squirrel, I walk up the path through UC basically every day, and squirrels are always in the way. Can I walk over them to save time?

— In a Hurry Dear Hurry, One day your disregard for squirrels will come flying through a garbage can to bite you. Until then.

— ES

Y A L P S I D ON outlook

What role, if any, does pornography play in sex education?

ARTICLE BY LINH NGUYEN PHOTO BY YASSINE ELBARADIE

M

Y THIRD YEAR of university kicked off with a flurry of phone calls from my two best friends — both of whom were in new relationships, and frantically seeking help navigating the terrifying realm of sex. After about a half dozen phone calls, it began to dawn on me that what I was witnessing was actually the result of a glaring failure in sexual education.

Most of our generation was never taught to have basic sexual conversations with a partner, or how to make sex a positive experience. As Jack*, a third-year art history specialist pointed out, “we weren’t really given a good way to visualize sex outside of the diagrams of the reproductive system.” Lisa*, a third-year women and gender studies major, added, “my sexual education in middle and high school was ‘this is how you protect yourself from pregnancy the one or two times you have sex in your life.’ I didn’t understand that people had sex for pleasure and on a regular basis; I thought I’d just do it once I realized I loved someone.”

With so many gaps in the sexual education of young

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people, it’s unsurprising that many turn to the most accessible representation of sex available: porn. While it certainly provides a clear visual, the fact that pornography is used by some to fill in for a lack of education produces a cascade of questions surrounding the function of sexual education in society, and the role pornography plays within it.

Images and shortcomings Brian*, a fourth-year computer science specialist, believes that, “pornography provides something visual that pictures and diagrams cannot provide.” Lisa echoed this sentiment, “I think porn lets young people know that it’s okay to seek pleasure in masturbation and sex... it’s awesome that we can watch people having sex as a way to understand what to expect in our own encounters and to be reassured that everyone does it,” she said.

Carlyle Jansen, a prominent sex educator in Toronto and founder of Good For Her sex shop explains that consuming porn is not as simple as providing a visual

to sex. “Most folks don’t necessarily understand what reasons. It’s not a useful way of responding to poris realistic in terms of how most people orgasm, what nography, and we’ve seen ample evidence of that... genitals actually look like and how long penises stay [It] also sets up a judgmental category of good sexual hard for example... the viewer doesn’t always take into representation and bad… [T]he vast majority of poraccount the fluffing, what is edited out, and the per- nography shouldn’t be treated as criminal.” formance factor,” she explained.

Jansen agrees that not all pornography is bad, or The shortcomings of porn are highlighted further worthy of censorship. “Lots of folks are making porn

by David Rayside, the former director of the Mark S. that does educate and that tries to fill the gaps where Bonham Centre for Sexual Diversity Studies at U of the mainstream fails in terms of reflection of diversity T. “There are still widespread patterns of denigrating and perpetuating stereotypes.” women, and of stereotyping women,” said Rayside.

Professor Nick Matte of the sexual diversity studies “There is still an underrepresentation of minority program at U of T echoed Jansen’s beliefs, and said, groups, no matter how you define minority groups. “sex-positive folks, like promoters of feminist pornogMost pornography aimed at same sex desire is male, raphy, encourage people to embrace pornography that and aimed at men, so there is an underrepresentation is ethically-produced, that provides pleasure and eduof pornography made for lesbians. There is also very cation in a world where racism, patriarchy, transpholittle that is trans-focused.” bia, and other power relations often only allow images Despite this, Rayside affirmed that censorship of that do promote pain, vulnerability, and insecurity, porn is not the answer. “First of all, I don’t think it especially with regards to people of colour, women, works,” he explained. “Censorship almost inevitably and other marginalized groups.” leads to censoring the wrong things for the wrong

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“

IT IS EQUALLY UNTENABLE AND UNREALISTIC THAT YOUNG PEOPLE TODAY AREN’T GOING TO BE EXPOSED — EITHER WILLINGLY OR [ACCIDENTALLY] — TO PORN.”

Regulation and education

Jansen likewise emphasized the importance of starting sex education at a young age. “The average age of first exposure to porn is 10; beyond parental controls on Internet usage, there is not much we can do. And even if we have controls in our own home, we have little control over what our kids see at their friends’ houses. Age-appropriate education about porn literacy is critical by age nine,” she said.

McKay, while also supportive of the change, cautions that this update constitutes only one small step forward. “We need to keep in mind that sexual health education is one small part of health education and health education is one small part of the entire school curriculum,” said McKay. “Relatively speaking, there’s little time to adequately address the issue of access and exposure to porn. We’re going to need to go beyond what’s in the provincial curriculum.” As Rayside accurately puts it, “there’s no simple answer to educating people about sexual difference and sexuality. Getting the perfect sexual education curriculum isn’t the whole answer.”

Reaching beyond school curricula is necessary in order to gain a better understanding of sex, and to evaluate pornography critically.

At U of T, the Sexual Education Centre (SEC), located on the sixth floor of the Sussex Clubhouse, acts as an inclusive space for students to stop by and ask questions about the world of sex, including porn, as well as to request informational workshops for a group.

“At SEC, we have a presentation which we tweak to fit each group’s needs, which we offer for free to groups on or off campus, such as fraternities, high schools, or community centres,” said Isabel Carlin, the Public Relations Representative at SEC. “This presentation includes information on consent, STI transmission and stigma, LGBTQ identities, types of relationships, safer sex supplies, birth control, and sex toys. We also have several pamphlets in our office, which contain information about sexual health, sex toy use, and specific resources for different groups.”

As Professor Matte stated, “it’s no longer enough to avoid or embrace pornography; it is part of the world and we can engage with it to address problems and promote positive experiences and values.”

Among everyone I spoke with — students and professionals alike — the consensus opinion was that porn should not be censored. Elizabeth*, a graduate student at the Institute of Medical Science, suggested that addressing porn as part of sexual education curricula would “provide the opportunity to discuss myths or misconceptions surrounding sex, sexuality, and the idea of consent, as well as to talk about more global issues such as the sex trade.” Elizabeth also made an important point that, “understanding the difference between sex and intimacy — and the lack of the latter when it comes to porn — can help foster healthier romantic relationships.”

Alex McKay, executive director of the Sex Information and Education Council of Canada (SIECCAN), agrees that the focus should not be on regulating pornography, but rather on educating young people about the context of porn and how to think think critically about it.

“Just as it was impossible to keep an issue of Playboy out of a teenage boy’s hands 50 years ago... it is equally untenable and unrealistic that young people today aren’t going to be exposed — either willingly or [accidentally] — to porn,” said McKay. “If we’re going to buffer [that exposure], then there must be some form of proactive education on the part of schools, and dialogue from parents to equip young people to critically evaluate what they’re seeing, and to think about the extent to which [porn] is not necessarily a reflection of healthy sexuality or what people should want out of their interpersonal relationships.”

Last January, the Ontario Ministry of Education released a new sexual education curriculum for grades 1–8, the first update since 1998, which was implemented at the beginning of the school year.

The changes — which include increased mentions of sexual identities, ‘sexting’, and consent, and start as early as grade one — have been met with resistance from many parents. “I think that the new sex ed curriculum in Ontario is an effective way to start these conversations and is definitely an improvement,” said Elizabeth.

Matte also supports the new curriculum, on the basis that “[it] is a huge and necessary improvement to what was previously being taught.

Students deserve relevant, up-to-date education.” *Names changed at students’ request

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news

Campus in brief From the eye-roll invoking to the legitimately upsetting, U of T is never short of the notable or newsworthy. Here is a recap of the semester thus far.

ARTICLE BY EMILY COLERO

Drizzy grace Ryerson with concert

An Instagram account, ‘@uoftdrizzy’ emerged last year proving that the 6ix God can go from “0-4.0 real quick.”

The pics show Drake chilling outside the UTSC library peering at his TCard. Nevertheless, Drake performed at the Ryerson frosh concert while U of T frosh had to settle for Shawn Desman. The shindig cost Ryerson a whopping $515,000, almost double the amount the UTSU spends annually on U of T Frosh events.

Skuligans stole Queen’s engineering mascot

Long-time engineering rivals and prank buddies Queens and U of T went at it again. On September 13, U of T engineering students captured a pole mascot from Queen’s University that was first pilfered from the U of T football field in 1955.

Voyeurism struck Whitney Hall

Residence floor washrooms in Whitney Hall at University College became temporarily gender segregated after reports of students being filmed on September 15 and 19 in the showers were filed.

UTSU sues Sandy Hudson, Yolen Bollo-Kamara, Cameron Wathey for alleged fraud

On September 21, the UTSU filed a civil action fraud lawsuit seeking punitive damages in the amount of $200,000, on allegations that former executive director Sandra Hudson received $247,726.40 through a termination agreement, and undue pay in the form of overtime and vacation hours.

Women and Gender Studies Institute and the Department of Sociology threatened

Threats made online in the comments section of a BlogTO article threatened feminist students and staff at the university, resulting in a spirited response from the U of T community. Canadian Union of Public Employees 3902 (CUPE) organized a march in support of feminism, U of T feminist buttons were handed out and “A Feminist Professor Works Here” signs went up in school buildings in a show of solidarity.

UTSU Failed to Pass Compliant Board Structure

At the union’s annual general meeting (AGM), the UTSU failed for the second year in a row to pass a board structure proposal required for compliance with the Canada not-for-profit Corporations Act (CNCA). UTSU executives have promised to amend the board structure proposal and put it forward in a future special general meeting. However, for the time being, the UTSU’s board structure remains non-compliant.

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tech

The ethical implications of the genetic revolution are high ARTICLE BY SAMANTHA YAMINE

PHOTOS BY MALLIKA MAKKAR

Gene screening for “better” babies

S

INCE THE DISCOVERY OF DNA, scientists have been trying to crack its code. In the past decade, advances in DNA sequencing technology have led to major improvements in the resolution of over 20,000 genes and other pieces that make up the human genome.

With the information the scientific community has gathered about the average human genome doctors can now reach faster, more accurate diagnoses. The hope is that, if doctors know more about a person’s genetic background, they can make better predictions about their health outcomes.

Genome sequencing has had a profound effect on how the scientific community is able to understand the functions of bodies, but it’s applications do not stop there. Genome technologies also carry the weight of several social implications.

At present, when an adult learns about their own genetics, it is too late for them to do much about it. But ethical questions emerge when discussing the possibility of selecting genes before birth. This is particularly relevant in cases of in vitro fertilization, and when considering future applications for gene editing technologies.

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Dr. Clifford Librach is an associate professor in the Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology at the University of Toronto, and the Director of the CReATe Fertility Centre. He explains that when preparing for in vitro fertilization, several eggs are fertilized and then two different types of tests are performed: first, a pre-implantation screen checks whether embryos have a normal number of chromosomes, and second, a pre-implantation diagnosis checks for specific diseases that may be common in the parents’ family or ethnic group.

These two tests are so that physicians more accurately select the embryo that has the greatest chance of leading to a healthy pregnancy for mom and baby, a reasonable, consideration, given how costly and emotionally intense these procedures can be.

However, there is the opportunity to do more tests. Surprisingly, restrictions on screening are not very stringent in Canada — there are only laws against selecting embryos based on sex.

“There isn’t actually regulation at this point for what [else] we can screen for,” Librach explained. While he is not aware of anyone testing for anything other than diseases caused by obvious mutations in single genes, he points out that “now that we’re starting to learn about mutations that can affect eye colour, colour blindness, maybe even related to obesity or cholesterol levels or heart disease … how far do we go? If we’re not just looking for a specific disease that really runs into [problems with] ethics.”

A quick walk past the lined faces of parents at the Hospital for Sick Children might have us all agreeing that if we could prevent parents from having to watch their children suffer, we should. But what about conditions that affect mental health, where the child is still alive and healthy but there is a great burden placed on caregivers?

Down Syndrome (DS), which is associated with intellectual disability and often higher incidences of childhood health complications such as hypothyroidism and heart malformations, has a known genetic cause that would show up in pre-implantation screening. Should we avoid having children with DS simply because we can?

Perhaps the people most qualified to answer this question are the parents. A study recently published by the lab of Dr. Jehannine Austin (PhD, Certified Genetics Counselor, and Associate Professor in the Departments of Psychiatry and Medical Genetics at the University of British Columbia) explored this question by asking how parents of children with DS would feel about a “cure” for their children.

The study found “that similar proportions of parents indicated that they would, and would not, be interested in curing their own child.” The

authors of the study wrote that many parents reported a positive affect on their family as a result of having a child with DS. Further, the authors suggested that we should reconsider the assumption that people with DS are suffering, given evidence that indicates these individuals are happy, and have high self-esteem.

Perhaps the most important takeaway is that, “parents in this study asserted that there should be a focus on changing negative societal attitudes and increasing social infrastructure to properly support individuals with DS and their families, rather than trying to change individuals with DS.” Given this research, we might turn a more skeptical eye to how we define ‘disease.’ When it comes to mental health conditions, Austin said, “psychiatric disorders are not entirely attributable to genes alone, […] there is certainly no single genetic change that directly causes psychiatric illness. […] So from a very practical perspective, we are a very very long way off from having the knowledge or technical ability to do this [genome screening or editing] for psychiatric illness.”

While it seems that the need to extend thoughts about genetic screening to all psychiatric conditions is still far away, now is the time to proactively collect data on patient and caregiver experiences, as Austin’s group did for DS. Increased uptake among scientists of the neologism “neurodiversity” — a term attributed to sociologist Judy Singer that advocates for the importance of brain differences — might predict that what is normal or expected is not necessarily best.

Tailoring your genes Recently, the advent of novel strategies which allow for fast and accurate targeted changes in genetic sequence have excited the scientific community. At the forefront of this wave, is the CRISPR/Cas9 system, a part of the immune system which shows potential for genetic editing.

These systems will likely have exciting therapeutic applications in the future, and while their efficacy and safety in humans have yet to be assessed, it is important to start considering the ethics of their use.

Dr. Ronald Cohn, MD, FACMG, and Co-Director of the Centre for Genetic Medicine at the Hospital for Sick Children, said, “it is difficult to assess […] but I think we will be able to see the first human application likely within the next 3-5 years.” He predicts the first applications will begin in blood. Corrections in blood cells can be made outside the body, then transplanted back.

“One of the biggest hurdles for other applications is that we need to do a lot of […] animal experiments to see how efficient and safe CRISPR-based therapies can be administered to various organs dependent on the disease,” said Cohn.

If there were ethical concerns related to screening embryos for their genetic makeup, then surely these are intensified when we consider

editing the genetic makeup of those embryos. Indeed, this possibility has caused a stir in the biomedical community, and many pioneers in the field have spoken up against the practice.

In the scientific journal Nature, Edward Lanphier, Fyodor Urnov and others wrote, “genome editing in human embryos using current technologies could have unpredictable effects on future generations. This makes it dangerous and ethically unacceptable. Such research could be exploited for non-therapeutic modifications.”

This is largely because the effect of editing an embryo’s DNA would be difficult to assess before the embryo matured and was born. Moreover, since the editing would occur in early stages of embryonic development, they would be incorporated into the DNA of the reproductive cells of the

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embryo and could be inherited; changes could span many generations.

The potential ramifications of these endeavours is therefore riddled with biological and social unknowns.

To this end, the same group wrote, “at this early stage, scientists should agree not to modify the DNA of human reproductive cells,” and that they “are concerned that a public outcry about such an ethical breach could hinder a promising area of therapeutic development.”

How far is too far?

Cohn summed up his own take on the future prospects of gene editing.“There needs to be careful regulation about what should be amenable to gene editing and what [should] not. The focus initially needs to be on disorders that are associated with a high medical burden. In addition, we will need to think about how to work with industries that these therapies won’t be too expensive for the health care system.”

In other words, this technology should be used only in the most severe cases. Society must agree upon what these cases are, and they should be treated consistently when they occur.

While this sounds like a logical solution moving forward, the jury is still out on the details of where the line should be drawn. It is common for people to invest a lot of time and money to improve the lives of their children. It is perfectly reasonable — and often , encouraged — for parents to enrich their childrens’ education and experiences, feed them healthy food, and promote an overall healthy lifestyle.

What is to stop these attitudes from eventually permeating into the emerging field of genetic modification? Librach challenges, “If I told you I could test your embryo for a child that is going to be a genius and go to Harvard – you’d probably like that because everyone wants their child to be perfect, and it’s hard to tell a parent we won’t do that.” It is reasonable to optimize your child’s environment and play with the nurture side of things, but when, if ever, is it appropriate to optimize their nature through genetic editing?

This concept that natural things are better, is present in modern society: some groups oppose eating plants that are genetically modified

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but have been eating plants produced by botanists and agriculture experts through strategic breeding for years; some believe supplements that are naturally derived are somehow superior to those made in a lab, even though both are composed of biochemically active ingredients; and some encourage pregnant mothers to eat more fish to increase their omega-3 intake to support the brain growth of their baby, yet we’re hesitant to select for, or edit, genes to make embryos smarter.

The advancements in genomic sequencing and editing technologies have too much promise to be stifled due to fear, but both history and Hollywood have taught us that humans are not always champions of the moral high ground, especially under pressure. Caution therefore, is key.

Before we can establish regulations in a democratic manner, as Librach suggested, we have to become familiar with the beast we are trying to tame. It is imperative that everyone put in thought to how these new technologies should be regulated both nationally and internationally, and make informed decisions on where to draw the boundaries, especially in cases where the ethical questions outweigh or equal the potential medical progress to be made.

For now, perhaps the best route is to hold off on manipulating the genes of embryos until we can affect them in such away that the resultant humans will be smart enough to deal with the potential consequences of their creation. Until then, the field of genetic editing remains shrouded in uncertainties.

outlook

“Terrible things happen” Tapping into the experiences of students with criminal histories ARTICLE BY TEODORA PASCA

“I

PHOTO BY BENJAMIN LAPPALAINEN

BELIEVE EVERYONE HAS A STORY,” said Wali Shah, a student at the University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM). “Your struggle may be completely different than mine… I can’t say that my story is more or less powerful in any way.”

On the surface, Shah is an average sociology student, yet, there are many ways in which he is exceptional.

Named one of Canada’s Top 20 Under 20 in 2014, Shah is a musician and motivational speaker whose message has reached over 50,000 students and professionals.

Most recently, he partnered with the Peel School Board to reach students in Mississauga, Brampton, and Caledon with an original song, entitled “Change the World.”

Shah has a compelling story to tell. Faced with extremely high cultural pressures at a young age, he began to seek belonging in “friends that weren’t really the best of friends.” When he was only 15 years old Shah was arrested and charged with assault.

“I was arrested in front of my family… I remember i t was like a movie,” Shah discloses. “[The officer] started cuffing me and I heard the sound of the click …as soon as he opened the door, I turned my head to my right and at that exact same moment, my mom and my little sister, who was four years old, and my brother, who

was about 10, they were walking out of the building.

And immediately, everything in my world just broke.”

The lowest moments The moment of his arrest still resonates powerfully in Shah’s mind. “ …My mom just started running,” he continues, “We started pulling out of the driveway, and she started yelling at the top of her lungs, ‘Where’s my son going?

Give me my son back, I can’t live without my son.’ I remember those words like they’re etched in my brain.”

Shah was taken to a police station and placed in a cell. Eventually, he was released from custody and the charges against him were dropped.

Yet, the experience had profound effects on Shah. He recalls returning to school and experiencing mental health issues, worrying about how to make his parents happy again.

“I think it was a learning experience, like a wake-up call or a lesson,” Shah reflected “I knew that I didn’t [want to] be in that position anymore. I had to change what I was saying, how I was acting, make positive decisions for my future.”

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“Some of them, maybe most of them, would be understanding, and a lot of them won’t be.”

He added that it is up to students to take the initiaShah’s ability to overcome obstacles is exceptional, but tive and volunteer their criminal history, in order to his experience with criminal justice may not be unique. find out whether accommodations can be made.

In fact, many others have had similar experiences at U of T. While the university does not require students Understanding the system to disclose their criminal history when they apply for admission, professors recall students coming forward Many youth commit offenses which has led criminolwhen faced with experiences in the criminal justice ogists to hypothesize about the reasons behind crimsystem. Dr. Scot Wortley, associate professor at the inal behaviour — which, in turn helps justice officials Centre for Criminology, is one such professor. understand how to better handle young offenders.

“I’ve had individuals who have been arrested for Thories on the causes of youth crime can vary crimes as young offenders and as adults, including drastically. Dr. Victoria Sytsma, assistant professeveral gang members, an individual who was con- sor at the Centre for Criminology and Sociolegal victed of manslaughter, and individuals who have Studies, cites just a few reasons why youth may been arrested for drug-related offences,” he said. “All turn to crime. of these students had dramatically turned their lives “There are a number of known risk factors with rearound, and were looking at university as an avenue gard to youth crime,” Sytsma explains. “These factors towards engagement in the legitimate economy. ”To include low social capital… delinquent peer groups, Wortley, this is heartening. [and] residing in neighborhoods plagued by high un“ …[T]hey are also a testimony to the fact that mis- employment rates and limited access to social services.” takes conducted early in your life do not seal your fate,” Wortley addressed whether students in university he explained. may fall into these categories.

Yet, unlike Shah, few individuals who have had ex“I think when you’re looking at a population like the periences are willing to speak out.

University of Toronto, you’re looking at a pretty privi“I think there’s a lot of hidden stuff that you wouldn’t leged group of students,” Wortley explained. “Even if know about,” said Dr. Anthony Doob, Professor Emer- they do come from poor, disadvantaged communities, itus at the Centre for Criminology. “ …Things happen they’ve likely overcome the odds to get to U of T.” to students… terrible things happen, and they don’t “If anything, I would think drug use and vice-related think that the university can respond to [them].” crimes are probably more prevalent among the affluDoob recalled an experience from prior years of ent,” he added. teaching in which a student had been hesitant to disclose the details of her criminal involvement.

Avenues for support Following a police raid, the student had been arrested for possession of narcotics, and was released from The fact that students who have gone through the custody hours before she was scheduled to write a test. criminal justice system largely do not feel comfortable Extremely distressed, but lacking a medical excuse, coming forward with their stories makes it difficult for the student rushed to class assuming she would be re- the university to provide them with support. quired to complete the assessment. After approaching Currently, the university offers a variety of services her and finding out what had happened, Doob sent her for students dealing with personal problems. However, home and arranged a make-up test. “Nobody’s gonna students who are seeking support specifically due to make up these stories,” Doob said. “But you could eas- criminal involvement have no place to go. ily see, in a big university like this, where you go to the Wortley explained the reasoning behind this omiswebsite and there’s rules about doctor’s notes… and sion. “ …[I]t’s [difficult] at this time to document having to document everything, that somebody could whether there’s a special need for support services say… these things aren’t covered by this.” for students with a criminal record,” he said.

Doob cited the fear of potential stigmatization as an Whether or not it is practical for the university to important reason for why students stay silent. establish a service specifically for students involved “We have thousands of faculty who teach,” Doob said. in the criminal justice system is yet to be seen. Mean-

Unknown narratives

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while, the potential consequences of having a criminal been through the criminal justice system and can comrecord can be dire. pare it to their experience coming here through the “Where a criminal record could negatively impact diversion program, they can see a vast difference.” someone would be in the seeking of employment,” Through integrating rehabilitative measures with Wortley said. “…There may be students who can per- the justice system, ALS has observed positive results form at a high level within the university environment, like those that McComb describes. The Council also but be disadvantaged when getting a full-time job helps Aboriginal youth establish strong ties to a culafter graduation because they have a criminal record.” tural community within the city of Toronto.

Having a criminal record may also affect a stu“ …I think there’s a lot of things that could be said dent’s ability to find part-time employment or vol- about the successes of the program,” McCombs said. unteer opportunities during their studies. Even if a “Just seeing people come in and actually successfully position is not technically restricted, evidence of a complete something in their lives, where a lot of peocriminal background puts applicants in a negative ple haven’t had the opportunity to ever successfully light. If students are repeatedly denied access to complete something… that’s remarkable to watch.” these opportunities, they could face perpetual difficulties in improving their resumes, or applying to Moving forward graduate or professional programs.

“It is crucial to keep non-serious and first time Many students may be dealing with the reality of a offenders out of the system as much as possible criminal past. According to Doob, it is imperative that through the use of extra-judicial measures,” Syts- they take the initiative to speak to others and seek ma emphasized, “which do not leave youth with a help if they need it. criminal record.”

“We do offer student counseling and student assisThis considered, it is interesting to see how institu- tance programs that are open to any student,” Wortley tions beyond the university level handle youth justice. said. “…[M]aybe the way to reach students with a crimThe diversion program at Aboriginal Legal Services inal background who may require additional support is (ALS), for example, aims to redirect Aboriginal of- to just advertise those services to everybody.” fenders away from prisons and rehabilitate them back Shah cited the UTM Health and Counselling into the community.

Centre as an excellent resource, and hopes that the Colette McCombs, manager of the Community university will continue to invest in counselling Council Program at ALS, explains how the process services for its students. works. “ …[W]hen an individual is charged, they apIn light of his passion for music and spoken word pear before the criminal court, and at that point, our poetry, Shah also urged the university to invest in court workers will interview them to see if they’re more creative activities. He recommends “…giving eligible for diversion… We then take them out of the students an opportunity to express their stories criminal justice system and place them before mem- and express, not only their artistic ideas, but their bers of the community.” academic ideas in an artistic way.” In lieu of purely According to the council’s decisions, individuals are academic assignments, Shah would appreciate more required to complete certain tasks in order to avoid classroom evaluations that integrate components of a jail sentence. Past decisions have included man- creative expression. dated community service, craft-making, attending “I think the fact that students are able to rise from treatment programs, and participating in traditional criminal behaviour… to actively engage, and often at a ceremonies. high level, in the university environment, is testimony McCombs emphasized the importance of such pro- that people deserve a second chance and proof that grams in light of the negative experiences Aboriginal they can be rehabilitated,” Wortley says. offenders, especially youth, often have within the Shah emphasized that the key to moving forward is justice system. dialogue. “ …I went through this, but everyone goes “I think a lot of the youth have had negative expe- through something,” he said. “ …[W]e shouldn’t be riences with police, so right away, they’re put in a scared to talk about that …I think that’s where a lot position where they’re in fear of the criminal justice of change starts, having that discussion.” system,” McCombs said. “ …I think that anybody who’s

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On private parts and private places

Young people challenge stigmatized conversations that still exist surrounding common bodily phenomena

ARTICLE BY CORINNE PRZYBYSLAWSKI PHOTOS BY MALLIKA MAKKAR

T

ODAY, ROWAN IS A 21-year-old bass player in a local indie band. Between the ages of fourteen and fifteen, he acknowledged something that would form the foundation for all of the conversations about sex and bodies he would engage in over the coming years. His “body and mind, though companions, did not physically align with the way that people perceived [his] gender.�

Over the years, a shift towards more liberal attitudes has begun to erode the barriers which have prevented discussions of transgender identities, masturbation, and menstruation in the past. Discussion of these topics, however, still demands a punctuated preface, despite their pervasiveness. Rowan is among those young people who regularly defy the stigmatization of some such conversations. Here, four youth share their experiences.

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Talking body The stigma attached to transitioning gender identities begins with the preception that trans-people appear or behave differently than members of the cis community – individuals whose gender identity agrees with their biological sex at birth. Rowan is acutely aware of communities that make assumptions about his body, and what he wants to do with it. “Men will coach you on how to put [your] hands into [your] pockets.”

He also questions what appears to be a contradiction in modern society’s judgment of surgeries. Why is society more or less tolerant of cosmetic surgeries that exist for aesthetic reasons, but not those surgeries that align individuals more closely with their identities?

Gender reassignment procedures, Rowan notes, go largely uncovered by OHIP: a systemic manifestation of this attitude.

“It’s 50K to be able to pee standing up — if you’re comfortable with breaking your legs to be taller, you should be comfortable with transgender identities too,” Rowan said.

Thou shalt not masturbate The spectrum of conversational censorship continues to narrow, as we become societally accustomed to the various, melding aspects of the human identity — yet, even in the privacy of an intimate discussion with a close friend, some topics remain difficult to broach.

Monika is a university student who today openly describes masturbation as a “super casual activity that [she] does whenever [she] feels like it.” Monika was raised in an Eastern-European household with potent Catholic values. She remembers, after the first time she masturbated, being “scared shitless because [she] had just read in a Catholic textbook that masturbation was a sin.”

Conservative Catholic values were so deeply inculcated in Monika as a child, that they drove her to attend confession in ‘repentance’ for what she had done.

After confessing, she was even more convinced of the wrongness of masturbation – as a Catholic woman, she was expected to save all of her sexual feelings for her future husband. Monika found this understanding of sexual expression “pretty fucked up at [the age of] ten,” considering she “doesn’t know if [she] even saw masturbation as sexual then.”

Monika no longer feels daunted by, or guilty about, self-pleasure. She believes that the stigma surrounding female masturbation exists “only in religious communities and in misogynistic culture.”

In Monika’s view, men do not have to deal with repressing their sexual urges in shame or secrecy to the same extent that women do. “They just jack off whenever they feel like it,” she said.

The lament of Aunt Flo Masturbation is not the only unapproachable topic when it comes to women and bodily functions. Society dictates restrictions on a slue of female-centric topics.

Chief among them, perhaps, is menstruation – a phenomenon which provokes so much revulsion in other parts of the world, that women and girls are displaced from society for the duration of their menstrual flow.

Kasia, who currently works for a leading financial institution in corporate communications, is part of a movement to dispel this stigma.

Given what she considers to be a constricting environment that corporations impose on its employees, Kasia maintains that women’s health issues should not be censored — especially menses.

Kasia laughs that she, her girlfriends, and her boyfriend “are so open about [menstruation].” In some moments, she recalls saying, “I need a vanilla dip donut because it’s day two and you know what that means.”

Deklan, a student at York University, “begs [her] boyfriend every month” for sex on her period, and while apparently, “he thinks it’s gross, he finally gave in last month because [periods] happen naturally and can’t be helped or stopped.”

These stigmatized conversations are slowly emerging from behind closed doors, as society progresses towards more liberal attitudes that embrace a pursuit of deeper understanding of various aspects of human identity.

The process of changing these deeply ingrained social norms is slow, with persistent pockets of naysayers pleading for certain aspects of our lives to be kept quiet. Ultimately, the scope of what we share when it comes to our bodies is a personal choice — it is not a decision to be left to the whims of social taboos.

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sports

Lifting

When it comes to women’s athletic ARTICLE BY EMMA KIKULIS

I

LIKE TO THINK THAT I KNOW an athlete when I see one: hair pulled back, some sort of oversized duffel bag slung over their shoulder, and proudly sporting sweats. Even though we’ve never met, this is how I recognize Alexandra Kousathana when she walks into the small Second Cup on Harbord and Spadina.

Kousathana is the co-president of the U of T Ironsports club, which she leads along with masters student Stephanie Scodras. I met with both women to discuss how they got involved with the growing sport.

“I’m in Kinesiology, so like everyone in the faculty was… talking about Crossfit, so I tried Crossfit,” said Kousathana. “Then [I] got into Olympic weightlifting, and from there I got into powerlifting.”

Previously unbeknownst to me, weightlifting and powerlifting are not synonymous — as Kousathana is quick to point out. “Weightlifting is the Olympic sport…powerlifting is [three events]: the squat, bench-press, and deadlift. It’s a sport just not an Olympic sport.”

U of T Ironsports was founded by Amanda Santos in 2012 and is the only Olympic weightlifting and powerlifting club on St. George campus.

Kousathana and Scodras subsequently became presidents. “Ironsports has a lot of roots in trying to get women into [powerlifting and weightlifting]” said Scodras about the club’s investment in gender inclusivity in the sport which has been previously dominated by men. “It’s something that we both really want,” added Kousathana.

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Putting in work The duo’s goal is to teach the club’s participants the basics of both powerlifting and weightlifting in their practices and training days. They aim to reach out to as many women as possible who might be interested, but are apprehensive about trying the sport. “[IronSports] has a lot of women, Allie and I will usually be at the training days to not just help out the girls, but pretty much help out anyone… sometimes the girls will feel more comfortable in that scenario,” said Scodras, noting that the club can seem intimidating from the outside.

“I think that a lot of people have these sort of misconceptions that girls don’t powerlift,” added Scodras, who can deadlift over 400 lbs. “You’ll see these really little girls who are really strong and it doesn’t really fit the picture that people expect from powerlifters: big, fat, sweaty men.”

They are lifelong athletes who got hooked on the sport in university. They were introduced to lifting through other sports. Kousathana, who grew up in Greece, did not have much access to athletics growing up. “I grew up on an island, so we didn’t have many sports” she said. “The only sport the girls could do was track, because we weren’t allowed to play soccer… there was no women’s soccer.” Scodras was introduced to lifting through her rowing team at McGill, where she completed her undergrad — she hasn’t looked back since. “In the off season they encouraged us to get in the weight room, and I liked it a lot more than everything else.”

g limits

c pursuits, there is no right or wrong PHOTO BY MATTHEW MANHIRE

Once involved in the sport, both women noticed a lack of female representation in powerlifting. They note that while lifting has garnered increased interest since the popularization of crossfit, there are still fewer competitive weight classes for women in powerlifting and Olympic weightlifting. Fewer women are represented come competition time.

This disparity was evident to Scodras when she was first on a team in Montreal. The team consisted of around a dozen men and two women, herself included. “At my first meet there was definitely a discrepancy in the number of men compared to women [but] when you get to the bigger meets, like provincials… you’ll see a lot more women coming out,” she noted.

“But it’s still not equal,” added Kousathana.

Breaking down barriers Women are just beginning to make their mark in lifting sports. In the process, female athletes are slowly chipping away at the expectations society has of their bodies. After all, the physique required to become a successful competitor demands a significant amount of muscle. Consequently, Kosathana and Scodras have been subject to extensive scrutiny for not fitting into a certain mould.

Kousathana, who placed third in her weight class at the Canadian Powerlifting Union National Championships, recalls being criticized not for

participating in a male dominated sport per se, but for the amount of muscle she gained in order to become a competitive lifter.

“It was just like ‘oh, but you don’t want to get big,’” she said to illustrate the common line she would receive after telling people about her lifting, to which she would respond, “well maybe I do, and that’s fine.”

Kousathana cites Ronda Rousey, UFC bantamweight champion, as a major force in helping to redefine femininity.

“I think it’s feminine to have every muscle in your body to be there for a purpose” she says, “I don’t see why being muscly and being strong isn’t feminine, I consider it to be very feminine.”

It is clear for Kousathana and Scodras that women who powerlift, exhibit robust muscles, and lift more than men were not enigmatic. Rather, they should be celebrated for their athletic successes and the bodies that enable them to achieve their goals — after all, it’s working out well for them.

“I can just eat all the pizza and ice cream I want and I’m fine with it! As long as I’m setting [personal records] it’s fine,” said Scodras.

Both women who — you guessed it — are on their way to the gym after our conversation, humoured me with one final question: if I pick up a weight, I won’t look like Arnold Schwarzenegger all of a sudden?

“No,” Kousathana laughed, “I wish.”

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feature

ONE STUDENT’S JOURNEY OUT OF MYANMAR’S WAR TORN JUNGLES AND HIS ONGOING FIGHT FOR JUSTICE

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Motherh

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home

ARTICLE BY ANTHEA SNOWSILL PHOTOS BY BRIAN RANKIN

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From left to right: Htay Tint’s school picture in Rangoon (Yangon), 1988, at 19 years of age; Htay Tint speaks at a student conference in Bangkok

I

N 2011, HTAY TINT WAS living as the CEO of a restaurant chain in Toronto, observing with anticipation as his home country, Myanmar (Burma) began to open up to the outside world after nearly five decades of isolation under military rule. This year on November 8, the country hosted historic elections in which the people of Myanmar voted overwhelmingly for the National League for Democracy, the non-military opposition party led by Nobel Peace Prize winner Daw Aung San Suu Kyi. The outcome of this election, and how the military will respond to it, will play an influential role in determining the country’s future.

Notable reforms leading up to this point have included developments in the areas of education, press freedom, labour organization, Internet access, and the release of political prisoners. With the election now complete, Myanmar will face questions about the effectiveness of these reforms, and the challenge of establishing a new government.

Perhaps most significantly, recent reforms have exposed unresolved questions about Burmese identity; democratization efforts continue to be undermined by conflict and an ongoing civil war in many parts of the country. Battling a history of factiousness, the central challenge for the new government will be to foster an environment of free and fair political interaction.

Now a mature student, studying Myanmar from afar, at the University of Toronto’s Asian Institute, for Tint the turbulent history and the uncertain future of the troubled country are particularly close to heart.

Life in Mandalay Tint was born in 1967 in Mandalay, Myanmar, where his father was posted as part of his military service. He came from relatively upper-class circum-

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stances, spending his childhood in Kyak Kyi, which is part of Myanmar’s Pegu Division. His maternal grandfather was a prominent landowner, and his family ran a land administration business. Tint’s family also ran a general store and a transportation business called “A Way Phay Cars” which provided long distance travel services from Pegu to cities such as Yangon, Mawlamain, Mandalay, and Taunggi to assist with agrarian and forestry trades. Undisrupted, he could have expected a comfortable upbringing.

Around 1970, however, Tint’s life was completely upset. The region where he lived came under the control of the Communist Party of Burma (CPB), the most powerful militant group in the area at the time. The CPB required Tint’s family to redistribute their lands, for which they received minimal compensation. His aunt then went underground to join the CPB, and he has not seen her since.

Punctuated by the reality of civil war between armed ethnic groups such as the Karen National Liberation Army, armed rebellion groups such as the CPB, and the Burmese military, Tint’s childhood was governed by fear. He regularly witnessed his peers drop out of school to work for their families, friends and relatives were arrested for suspected connection to rebellion movements, and teachers arrested and sentenced to manual labour to work as porters in service of the Burmese army.

After being accused of supporting rebellions, Tint also recalls being arrested and beaten as a teenager in high school. Especially disturbing for him, however, is the memory of how the military would storm the town when mounting an attack against the rebels.

“We [would] hide in our homes, nearby temples and rivers…military troop[s] decided to take all women, so women with their children [were] arrested by...our own military, own government he recalled.

Tint described how frequent fighting would cause students to run from

k, 1992, in favour of non-violent protest; In Mae Hong Son province, Thailand; In Bangkok, Htay Tint discuses protests to Thailand’s ‘Constructive Engagement’ policy toward Burma.

their classrooms in search of refuge. Those who were arrested and made to work as military porters, had less than a 50 per cent chance of returning home and being reunited with their loved ones.

Resisting the regime It was in 1988 that Tint, by then a trusted student leader in his town, called together a conference to decide how to stand against the Burmese military government. After establishing a strike committee of farmers, workers, academics, and students and being elected General Secretary, Tint was sent to attend a general meeting at Pegu with other representatives, and declared that his hometown would join and support the general strike against the Burmese regime.

From this decision came the founding of a students’ army to fight against the military government in 1988. The group was known as the All Burma Students’ Democratic Front (ABSDF).

In 1992 he was sent as a representative of ABSDF to attend a student conference in Bangkok, Thailand, for the Overseas National Students Organization of Burma (ONSOB). At the conference, Tint was nominated and elected as a central executive committee member of ONSOB. The group elected to use non-violent opposition instead of armed resistance against the military government.

In Thailand illegally, and wanted by both the Thai and Burmese governments, Tint and his fellow students were arrested when protesting the Thai government’s proposal regarding the country’s ‘Constructive Engagement Policies’ towards Burma at the ASEAN Conference.

This moment was a turning point in Tint’s life — the one that brought him to Canada.

“When we were arrested includ[ing] some female students... they put all of us together in same room. One night, a group of police [came] into the inside and [tried] to take some female students without any reason...

[M]e and another [two] students leaders, Ko Shein Myint, a teacher from Rangoon, and Khun Shwe Thike, a student leader from Taunggi, stood in front of [the] female students ... faced [the] police and [told] them we can not let it happen at the middle of the night. They hit us and all other student[s] close to them. [T]hey realized that they were inside of the room with too many of students, and they [ran] back.”

“And soon, they arrived back with arms and took three of us and [beat us] badly until we all collapsed. My blood come out from my mouth, nose ears and eyes. They handcuff[ed] each of us and put us in one small room and arrange[d] to send [us] near the border guard of Burma. Then they put us [in] the car and drove [in the] middle of the night. ... [T]hey stopped for... whiskey. When they [were] in the restaurant, one of us, manage[d] to unlock all [three], and we [ran] into [a nearby] river. Me and Kune Shwe Thaik escaped by diving into water and [swam] across the river to other side … [to] hide in the near forest. It [was] the River Kwai.”

Having escaped from prison and fled from the Thai authorities attempting to send them back over to the Burma, Tint applied to Canada for political asylum, and arrived in Toronto on March 15, 1995.

Refuge in Canada Tint was drawn to Canada because it was a democratic country — something that, by that point in his life, he had come to value through grave experience.

The adjustment to life in Canada as a refugee was not easy. Language

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MOTHER A poem by Htay Tint

Mother…

We have many brothers and sisters…

We all are surviving and growing up, because we all had been fed with colostrum which make from you blood with benevolent.

We all had been slept by singing of your song, which you sang for us to sleep at sleeping time.

Mother…

We have many siblings, who always together even when we are in danger, disaster or difficult time.

We have many brothers and sisters who always take a place by the side of someone and we have many siblings who never be a bystander, and who ignore others.

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As we all do middle or nowhere.

But we all, each go along with believe that what we believed.

We all had been taught by you to distinguish good and bad.

At one day, Unexpected day, At the day which we all, your sons and daughters expected day, The gate of mother’s garden was being broken, The garden of mother was destroyed, We all had been brutalized at our school, home and motherland.

Mother…

We all had run to a place that they can’t reached, We all had lived a place that they can’t attacked without defend them

Mother…

We are not disappointed when you are being failing or not being succeeding in your goals.

Because we all are your sons who have ability to through way of the mundane world, which in gain and loss, fame and dishonour, praise and blame, happiness and suffering.

Because we all understood that failing or succeeding is never be forever and it can be change in no time.

Mother…

Although the world will disappear, it never disappear from our heart that what they did it to the innocence people and us, We will never forget and forgive, We all are being known that we must sacrifice now for future, We all do need nothing except your love that loving forever to you sons and daughters, your motherland and the world.

Mother…

We are all blooming in your garden as colourful flowers, such as white, red, blue and green colour.

As we all come from east, west, south and north.

As we all go to different directions to north east or south west.

Do not give up mother, Do not give up your hope, Do not giving up on your sons and daughters too, Because we all are yours, and yours only and ones.

Because we all have you as only and one.

Because, we will fight till we can choose…

And we will choose you to govern us, mother.

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Dedicated to all mothers who lost their sons or daughters, or both, in 8/8/88. To all mothers who let their sons or daughters run away from danger and never reunion until now. To Daw Aung San Suu Kyi who fought for the people of her motherland. To my only, lonely and lovely mother who I left since 1988.

barriers, harsh weather, and difficulty finding employment were just some of the barriers he during his transition.

After the move, many people found it difficult to understand his suffering and relate to his experience. Some discouraged him from ever becoming involved in politics again, regardless of where he was living. He did however, find support in a few people who did understand that the circumstances were beyond his control — especially those with knowledge of the devastating war back in his home country.

Yet, even in the face of perpetual challenges, Tint never lost his hopeful spirit. He said that he eventually came to learn that “...here in Canada, if you try, try hard, and work hard, you will succeed through all barriers.”

Just two years after arriving in Canada, Tint became the CEO, founder, and management head of Motherhome Inc., a Toronto based Burmese restaurant chain, which operated from 1997 to 2012. Tint had been working as a kitchen helper at Lisa Shamai Cuisiniere after arriving in 1995, but desperately wanted to continue his education as a way to secure stable employment, and ensure he could provide assistance to his family who had been detained in Myanmar.

Tint was unable to establish direct contact with his family, but through a friend, he managed to send money to them for food, clothing, and basic medicine. After a year as a kitchen helper, he became supervisor of the sandwich department. A year later, he bought a small coffee shop for $10,000 on Front Street West near the Rogers Centre.

Eventually, Tint managed to sell the coffee shop for more than what he initially paid, and upgrade to a bigger restaurant space in the same building. In 2005 he opened a second Motherhome location in Don Mills, and a third location in 2010 on Bloor Street West.

In 2012, however, Tint decided to leave his restaurant enterprise behind in search of something more. For him, education was the most important thing he needed if he was going to help rebuild his country.

So, in 2013 he commenced the Transitional Year Programme at the University of Toronto.

Tint is now pursuing a double major in English and contemporary Asian studies. For Tint, “English language is the most important to me and our country, for what our counterparts are saying, asking and meaning...Hence, to listen effectively, to speak effectively and to write effectively, I chose [to study english].” As for contemporary Asian studies, Tint “...love[s] to learn systematically about our regions to build a better Burma.”

As Tint contemplates the future for Burma he says, “I believe that... democracy... is the most important [thing for Burma right now] because it can bring peace and justice [to] stop the civil wars [so] that our generation can go to school, work, and live [safely].”

Putting his support behind recently elected Daw Aung San Suu Kyi and her National League for Democracy party, Tint hopes that Burma will soon become a place where people can freely choose their own government, and have a military that serves and protects its people — rather than one that rules over them with an iron fist. Since coming to Canada in 1995, Tint has been banned from returning to Myanmar. As he continues his study of the country from Toronto, his chief hope is for a change that will allow him to return to see his mother again, in his home country. For now, he is waiting and observing.

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Is this the radical road to prosperity?

ARTICLE BY MALONE MULLIN PHOTOS BY MALLIKA MAKKAR

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I

T’S EARLY EVENING on the first of July. A scraggly group sits in an east end Toronto living room, calling to allies with a hand-scrawled sign taped to the front door. “Basic income meeting — knock HARD,” it reads, and I do. I’m aware, after all, that the people inside are busy demanding revolution, and they might not hear me over the roar of optimism ringing in their ears.

Though pushing for major economic reform, these folks aren’t neocon lunatics or black block anarchists.

Some might call them socialists, but that’s not right either; Milton Friedman, a notorious anti-socialist, once advocated the same policy this group pushes for.

Subversive they are not.

Yet their solution to poverty, debt, and unemployment is still indisputably radical, at least in terms of how we tend to structure free market democracies. The people here tonight believe every Canadian, regardless of occupation or net assets, has the right to a basic living allowance, an annual stipend for each individual to spend as he or she pleases. In other words, they claim that giving away cash — no strings attached — could eliminate Canada’s poverty woes for good.

know about this,” says one of the deadheads, clad appropriately, given the date, in a denim suit. “The lead investigator on CBC’s Marketplace, we were talking to him. He didn’t even know what basic income is. He’s the lead investigative economic journalist in Canada.”

The discussion continues, touching on everything from strategy to philosophy.

As I find out, basic income groups across Canada think economic vulnerability shouldn’t be tolerated in a country that can afford to spread its wealth around.

Yet many of us remain on the margins. In Toronto, the situation creeps toward critical mass: 44 percent of all jobs are considered ‘precarious’ according to a recent study by United Way Toronto and McMaster University.

That’s almost half of our workforce living day to day without security, benefits, or assured wages.

Meeting the movement Just six of Basic Income Toronto’s members have assembled tonight in this makeshift headquarters. Unlike more established branches of the Basic Income Earth Network (BIEN) — a global nexus of municipal collectives — the fledgling Toronto division is just beginning to assign executive posts as I walk through the door. I encounter postcards, petition sheets, and passion, but that seems about as far as they’ve gotten.

Jon Sanderson, the jovial 30-something responsible for founding the group only months prior, shows me to a loveseat facing a pair of ‘deadheads’ looking like they just stepped out of a Volkswagon microbus. Surreal, I think, sandwiching myself between a soccer mom and a young man glued to his laptop. It seems I’ve landed on an unnervingly political misfit island.

“It’s not like Toronto doesn’t care about poverty,” says one of the group, earnestly trying to figure out how to represent basic income to city council. “Toronto absolutely does.”

Sanderson agrees. “What’s happening right now isn’t a lack of compassion towards solving poverty,” he chimes in.

“It’s just a lack of ideas.”

Their particular idea has yet to infiltrate the mainstream. “You’d be surprised how many people don’t

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w o n t h g i r ing n e p p a h s ’ ”What ack of compassion ’s isn’t a l solving poverty. It towa rds ack of ideas.” just a l An allowance of $20,000 a year, the common suggestion, could make life substantially easier for many and only slightly worse for the richest few. Yet a basic income might intuitively seem like a costly alternative to the public aid systems already in place, such as Ontario Works, which assess a recipient’s need prior to handing out cheques. The justification for this is that those in dire need receive assistance, and those with a livable income don’t leech off others. But within the hope-laden homily of Sanderson’s living room, it’s possible to hear the beginnings of a rational argument, one that points out the absurdities inherent in the current welfare state.

That noise, the roar of burgeoning activism, isn’t just the eager clamour of a ragtag collective trying to save the country. It’s the new language of liberalism, and as they frame it, it speaks for us all.

The case for a revamped welfare state I first met with Sanderson in the basement café of U of T’s Hart House. I’ve sat at that same table many times in the last four years, sometimes eating a frugal meal or splurging on a latte, but mostly just nursing a coffee and cowering at the prospect of post-graduate existence.

Like so many of my classmates, I envisioned life as an endless promenade of mediocre day jobs, my nights spent exhausted and struggling to eke out a career in the shadow of overdue loan repayments. My future, I suspected, would be one of debt and toil.

Today, sitting across from Sanderson, I listen to him opine on everything from Harperian economics to the history of money.

Sanderson and Regehr see basic income as the single most plausible way for society to move gracefully past the ills inflicted by a projected upsurge in unemployment. “If we don’t respond to this rationally, through a basic income, we’re going to suffer some pretty serious social consequences,” notes Sanderson from across the table.

Regehr, sitting to my right, nods emphatically. “If you look at countries around the world that have high unemployment, huge steep inequality gaps, you have trouble,” she says. “History shows that you don’t really want a lot of young men hanging around with nothing to do.”

In her committed manner, Regehr tells me about a colleague whose company actively puts employees out of work, gradually swapping people for programs. “He’s worried about it,” she says. “He believes in the technology – he says there are things that technology can really do better than people can, and we shouldn’t be afraid of that. But if it’s replacing human activity then you really have to think about what our social structures look like.”

”Even the wealthy admit that we can’t have people starving.”

Beside him sits Sheila Regehr, an equally genuine retiree of the National Council of Welfare — though “retired” does not exactly describe her. After spending 29 years working with social assistance programs, she’s now the chair of the Basic Income Canada Network (BICN), a patchwork of local groups just like Basic Income Toronto, all of them busy lobbying for welfare restructuring. Over the course of three hours, I listen as Sanderson and Regehr engage in a kind of rhetorical dance, weaving for me a persuasive tapestry of socialist optimism. Between them, a clear narrative of our collective future unfolds.

The next twenty years, they say, will look much how I fear they will, barring serious policy overhaul. According to an oft-quoted 2013 study by Oxford researchers Carl Frey and Michael Osbourne, the near future could see a developed job market shrink to half its current size.

Intelligent machines are to blame for the occupations at risk, which range from cashiering, to programming, to journalism. It’s already happening; the future stares us in the face every time every we use a self-checkout machine, and it won’t be long until we’re summoning driverless taxis.

The most successful structure ever developed looks much like the basic income proposal, contends Sanderson. “In the Middle Ages the economic system was this,” he says. “The king had a stick. It was called the tally stick, and it had a series of notches in it. Those notches corresponded to another series of sticks, which he would distribute to the peasantry to [trade] however they wanted.

“The king then took the tally stick, shoved it into a lockbox, and put it away for a year. And every year they had a day where everybody got together, sticks in hand, and gave them back to the king. He tallied them up to make sure nobody had counterfeited any, and if everything was fine, then he would take them and redistribute them evenly amongst the populace again.

“That economic system lasted for 750 years,” Sanderson adds, smiling wryly. “No bumps, no booms, no busts.”

A redistributive scheme like the one Sanderson and Regehr describe may constitute a system for real life, one that allows us to have kids when we want to, take entrepreneurial risks, stop working entirely to care for sick parents, or go back to school. Our current insti-

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tutional safety nets, in contrast, fall short of bridging the gap between security and destitution. If you’re receiving social assistance, you have very little wiggle room to adjust to life’s challenges. “Our systems don’t allow anybody to adapt to real life,” explains Regehr.

Thus the present system, says Regehr, does little for personal or public growth. “It’s humiliating, it’s demeaning, it strips you of assets, it treats you like a child — that part, I think, does the longest term damage to people,” she tells me. “And it’s ridiculous to pay money over and over again, year after year, to sustain people that way and never give them the chance to get ahead.”

“That’s the great absurdity, I think,” adds Sanderson.

“The response we often get when we talk about basic income is ‘well, people are poor, people are homeless because they’re lazy’ …it’s a total delusion that people fall under because they seem to think that there are infinite jobs out there to be had.”

Yet there are always more people than jobs, Sanderson says, and that simple fact generates a responsibility, currently shouldered by the welfare state. “Even the wealthy admit that we can’t have people starving,” he continues. “That’s not acceptable. But you also can’t allow people to have freedom from a system — from wealth. The populace ultimately has to be answerable to the whims of the upper class. And so they’re willing to put a person in a state where they can have food and shelter, but they actively want it to be as uncomfortable as possible to incentivize people to get back into the workforce.”

The table goes quiet, thoughtful. “We live in a society where the wealthy have the right to withhold food and shelter from a person in exchange for their labour,” adds Sanderson, speaking gravely. “That’s a condition that I call wage slavery. And to me, you can’t say you live in a civilized society if you exist in those conditions.”

Punks on the dole Walking towards the Queen streetcar on my way from headquarters, I happen to pass a three-storey house filled to bursting with young occupants living almost solely on welfare cheques. Peals of laughter precede the mob, gathered in mismatched benches and rocking chairs on the veranda — from the sounds of it, despite their robust poverty, these kids have found a reason to smile.

I sat on that porch only two weeks prior to interview my old friend Kayla*, who lives here with six other tenants, all of them making efficient use of their mar-

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ginal space. Between them, they’ve got rent down to a manageable two-thirds of their respective monthly incomes. The girl sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, I’m told, helps immensely.

When I inquire about life on the dole, Kayla answers with a surprising amount of affection. “The system itself is dehumanizing but in the end I’m thankful for it,” she says. “It’s saved my life.”

Yet problems with the provincial welfare system crop up during our conversion. Kayla explains that OW pays recipients like herself only $200 a month for ‘basic needs.’ A further $400 is allotted for rent expenses upon proof of tenancy. We laugh weakly at the pittance, but it’s not really funny.

“I make $12,000 a year, and I get by with that. But that’s only because I earn extra income through busking,” she says.

“And not everyone’s musically inclined,” chimes in Brian*, her housemate and a musician himself. Brian volunteers his spare time at the welfare office, teaching kids to play punk rock guitar solos.

“Yeah, and if you earn any money by working, they make deductions. It’s this really convoluted system.

It’s not very motivating to get a job, especially if you can’t find gainful employment,” she adds. “It makes you feel like your time is worthless.”

Undeterred by these misgivings, Kayla remarks on the usefulness of OW’s health benefits and training programs. Any system replacing the one we have, she thinks, needs to include support mechanisms like these. Yet she stresses that OW does need revamping, both in terms of increasing provisions and updating eligibility rules. “When I went back to school they cut me off completely,” she says. “I was nearly homeless because I wanted to get an education.”

There’s another reason I came to visit Kayla. I’m curious about how individuals accustomed to bare-bones welfare income might use an unconditional grant — especially this odd group, obscured by tattoos and drinking beer at noon on a Tuesday. So I ask them what they’d do with $20,000 a year.

Brian snorts. “Oh Jesus. That’s a terrible question to ask a bunch of welfare punks,” he says, grinning. “I’d probably blow it. Nobody taught me how to budget — and welfare doesn’t teach you because they don’t give you enough to budget anyways,” he laughs.

But then he gets serious. “There needs to be a support network for people who don’t know how to handle lump sums,” he continues. “Addicts, too — you give an addict 20 grand and it’s gone. Like me, for instance. I drink a shitload. When I get my welfare cheque I pay

”I was nea rly homeless beca use I wanted an education.” rent and get fucking beer. It’s not enough to just give someone money and cut your losses — people who aren’t fiscally responsible will need help.”

Though Brian’s inclination doesn’t extend to the rest of the group. “Personally, I’d save up to buy property,” Kayla says.

Her partner and housemate, who works near fulltime hours at multiple jobs, nods. “I’d budget out rent and living expenses. Then save as much as I could for rainy days,” he says.

Despite their insistence on the benefits of welfare services, the three of them agree that a universal grant would alter their lives for the better. With a basic income, “you’d be able to feed and take care of yourself without worrying about panhandling or squeegeeing,” says Brian. “Living like that — it’s fucking depressing.”

Money for nothing Not everybody thinks a basic income feasible, despite the fact that it has promise. The most common rebuttal I hear, when pitching the idea to friends and family, involves the notion that handouts disincentivize work — that same McCarthy-era objection to any and all socialist policies. If you’re granted handouts, after all, why bother getting out of bed for a day of drudgery?

There are jobs that need doing, the argument insists, and nobody to perform them unless they need the money to live.

The work disincentive obstacle persists despite studies indicating that income supplements have no negative effect on economic production. In the 1970s, a five-year trial in the city of Dauphin, Manitoba gave 7,000 residents a guaranteed minimum income — or ‘mincome,’ for short. The data show an increase in ‘work reduction,’ seemingly pointing out the shortcomings of giving away free cash. Some people stopped going to work. As the incentive to hold a thankless job dissipated, so did the rate of occupation.

But, as analysts eventually realized, the original work reduction data included individuals who left the paid labour force to take on unpaid, largely domestic work. Lumped into the ‘unproductive’ group were mothers able to quit their jobs to look after their families and older children who could return to school.

As Regehr mentions during our chat, that’s not a true drop in productivity. All the mincome data showed was a shift from paid jobs to ones without wages.

Then there’s the laziness argument: the idea that able individuals will choose not to work at all — even domestically — in favour of unproductive activities

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t e g d u b o t w o h e m t h g u ”Nobody ta re doesn’t teach you - and welfa don’t give you enough y e h t e s u a c e b ” . s y a w y n a to budget

“The low income cut-offs (LICOs) are income thresholds below which a family will likely devote a larger share of its income on the necessities of food, shelter and clothing than the average family.

Low income status by province (2011)

The approach is essentially to estimate an income threshold at which families are expected to spend 20 percentage points more than the average family on food, shelter and clothing.” — Statistics Canada

“An allowance of $20,000 a year, the common suggestion, could make life substantially easier for many and only slighly worse for the richest few.”

Canada

12.6%

British Columbia

Prairies

15.3%

9.9%

Ontario

12.0%

Labour force distribution by sex (2014)* Unempolyed

3.0%

Part-time

12.0%

3.9% 6.0%

Atlantic

13.3%

Quebec

14.0%

Low income status by age group (2011) >65 10.2% 17.0%

Full-time

32.3%

<18

42.8% 19.3%

Female

Male

“44 per cent of all jobs are considered ‘precarious’ according to a recent study by United Way Toronto and McMaster University.” *This data was collected based on a binary understanding of gender.

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18-64 “A World Bank study, conducted in 2014, backs the idea that welfare has no impact on unproductive activity”

such as television watching. “Some people might say, ‘why should I work when my taxes go to pay for some couch potato?’” says Dr. Toni Pickard, professor emeritus at Queen’s Faculty of Law and herself a basic income activist. “But that attitude is based on a misconception about who is on income support and what they do with their money. It’s a form of poor bashing, that’s all. The mincome experiment showed no work disincentive.”

Regehr also denies that there is any to the disincentive rhetoric. She thinks we need merely glance at human nature to shrug it away, a belief she insists upon during our Hart House meeting. “If you look at the way human beings are wired, physiologically, we are wired to work,” she says. “We are wired to be social creatures. We are wired so that status matters.

You might have somebody who thinks he might want to just sit around and play video games and do drugs, but he very quickly realizes he will do whatever it takes to get status in his community.”

She smiles gently, continuing, “If you want a date, you’re going to be motivated to do something about that. You will be motivated to not upset your grandmother by doing something. We are subject to social pressure because we are social beings. That’s what being human is.”

Sanderson agrees, and proposes that basic income prototypes actually forecast an increase in productivity. “When people are involved in something they care about and they see a benefit for themselves and for society, and it’s not simply a drudgery that they’ve been inflicted with because they have to, then they’re going to work harder at it,” he says. “Those who walk around saying ‘people will just be lazy’ — I don’t think they even understand what humans are, yet alone what they’re even talking about.”

A World Bank study, conducted in 2014, backs the idea that welfare has no affect on unproductive activity. It showed that the tendency to buy “temptation goods,” such as drugs or alcohol, fell as income support rose. “They found that cash transfers have absolutely no impact on the purchase of temptation goods,” says Pickard.

It would seem as if a rise in self-sufficiency, such as that caused by a guaranteed income, eliminated the need to medicate for destitution, to find relief in a bottle of booze or pills.

Yet another study, conducted in the US in 1994, shows an increase in adverse social consequences when income rises through cash transfers rather than parental wage earning. Jonathan Rhys Kesselman, an economist at Simon Fraser University, published a critique of basic income in Inroads journal in 2013 citing

that data. He points out that children who grew up in impoverished families were more likely to drop out of high school, give birth in their teens, and fail to find steady employment if family income rose due to public cash benefits. The study seems to suggest that parents with jobs produce more stable families than those who get money for nothing. “A dollar of transfers,” he writes, “is not fully equivalent to a dollar of earned income.”

The right support for the system Kesselman’s objection represents a data-backed hurdle for basic income. Yet its proponents exist all along the political spectrum. So fundamental are the potential benefits of an income floor, that even conservative economists have embraced a similar idea. In the 1950’s, Milton Friedman espoused the advantages of a “negative income tax,” which would redistribute tax funds by taking from the rich and giving to the poor. Unlike a basic income, the wealthy would simply pay into the grant fund, while only the underprivileged received the cash.

“There’s a huge amount of cost associated with welfare programs,” explains Dr. Jack Carr, a Rotman Commerce professor who studied under Friedman. “Friedman thought the government didn’t trust poor people, and thought we should let them spend [the negative income tax] the way they wanted, rather than having expensive social workers to monitor welfare recipients.

Instead of having welfare and employment insurance we could have a series of transfers.”

However, Friedman also advocated for a system of privatization, wherein public goods such as education would need to be paid for by those who wanted to use them. “Friedman thought that we should give everybody a limited number of vouchers to purchase social necessities,” says Carr. But this didn’t sit well with unions, he says, who “nixed” Friedman’s plan.

“Friedman’s idea is not churlish, but stingy and unrealistic,” contends Pickard. “And he believed you have to keep the work incentive in there by keeping the grant level quite low.”

Despite the similarities, basic income advocates today disagree with both Friedman and Carr, arguing that public goods must remain untouched and grants handed out universally. “Basic income, boom there you go, everyone gets it,” says Sanderson. “Negative income tax has more of a scaling effect.”

I point out the apparent redundancy of giving a rich person money only to take it away again.

“Sometimes people ask, ‘why even bother giving a basic income to someone who makes a million bucks

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a year?’” Sanderson replies. “I think there are philosophical reasons why it’s a good idea. It’s solidarity-building. Even a millionaire gets this thing — then he can’t throw it back at anyone.”

ating iv t o m y r e v t o n ’s ”It ially c e p s e , b o j a t e g to l u f in a g d in f ’t n if you ca employment.”

Another bite to basic income concerns minimum wage protection. It’s an objection advocates often hear from left-leaning critics. “One of the biggest dangers of a basic income is that conservative forces may try to claw back minimum wage,” says Sanderson. “I won’t be surprised if it becomes an either-or proposition: ‘we’ll give you a basic income if you eliminate the minimum wage.’ As if this is something we’re willing to concede.”

Yet that fear, Sanderson thinks, is no reason to reject basic income. Conversely, he suggests that basic income could ultimately have an empowering effect on minimum wage workers. “Companies are going to fight tooth and nail against basic income, because it means they either have to shut down their operations or they have to start paying people reasonably, at the rate they’ll actually do the work for,” he says.

“I think some corporations will have to work a little harder at retaining people, at paying people better and improving employment conditions,” adds Regehr. “If you get your basic income and have a job, then it gives

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you more leverage with your employer. You would be able to say ‘I don’t want these crazy shifts, so why don’t you give me two days in a row and not three hours at a time?’”

But the elimination of hard-fought labour rights programs — like Friedman’s plan to take away employment insurance or pension plans — constitutes a terrifying prospect for the working class. The contemporary revival of mincome, whatever the specifics of its format, often encounters resistance from unions due to anxieties like these. “[Labour unions are] worried about protecting workers’ rights and labour market fairness,” Regehr tells me.

“There’s fear that more right-leaning people might see a basic income as a replacement for all kinds of other things, which is certainly not the way any of our proponents envision this. This is simply a basic income floor — it’s only about income. It doesn’t mean that you don’t absolutely need labour regulation and public health and education.”

As if reading my mind, Regehr pipes up again. “It’s not Milton Friedman,” she adds, laughing.

From pipe dream to policy In the 1700s, an English rope maker named Thomas Paine moved to America. After a stunning revolutionary career, he went on to write a short essay called “Agrarian Justice”, which argued that all people have a right to land and resources that others habitually claim for themselves. Upon reaching the age of maturity, he suggested, young men and women should receive a one-time stipend, a small amount to offset the loss of property once held in common.

The idea never took off, and though it sees a re- dition and bestow every person in the country with a bound in activist circles today, obstacles to its imple- solid income floor. Surprisingly, the IMF and World mentation persist. Perhaps the largest roadblock to Bank actually helped design the system. realization is the sheer cost of such a policy. Though “These major financial institutions are learning advocates believe there’s more than enough cash to that poverty impoverishes the whole economy,” fund a basic income and maintain the public services comments Pickard. Too many low-income earners we now have, critics disagree. Even a modest basic constitute a real threat to the future of capitalism. income could incur “gargantuan” costs: Kesselman, If we don’t devote measures to counteract technofor one, puts the figure at $350 billion. Moreover, he logical unemployment, she says, there will be fewer says, this money would need to be taken in part from consumers, and thus nothing stimulating the cycle other social services, which would be “crowded out” of of supply and demand. “After all,” Pickard quips, “rothe budget. Saying hello to free cash might mean let- bots don’t eat much.” ting go of public housing, subsidized day care, mental health services, legal aid — the list goes on.

But advocates contest Kesselman’s cost argument, as I find out inside Hart House. “At the end of the day you’re looking at about five per cent of the GDP to fund a basic income,” Sanderson says.

Regehr interjects. “There are lots of places to find the money — there’s a lot of room in what we’ve already got. Harper has given away more than $40 billion in tax revenue …mostly to silly things that benefit rich people,” she says.

They throw funding suggestions at me. Updating the tax system by tying it to inflation, they say, is a must, as is a redefining of tax brackets. “If you make $150,000 a year you’re paying the same as somebody who makes a million,” says Sanderson, pointing out the tax revenue lost on higher incomes.

Likewise, a small raise on the corporate tax rate could rake in substantial sums. Implementing inheritance taxes, something most developed countries already do, is also a no-brainer. And rejigging the current tax credit system, lumping together the current benefits into a single annual sum, could also Two hundred years after the release of Paine’s radcontribute to the basic income bank. ical pamphlet, it seems you don’t need to be a revoThey even suggest a penny tax on the financial lutionary to support his idea. “Basic income would transactions of private entities, a gesture that could benefit a unionist, a capitalist, a socialist; I don’t care raise millions for any government, according to the what your ‘-ist’ is,” Sanderson says, one of the last research of Edgar Feige at the University of Wisconsin. remarks of our interview. He’s giving me a farewell pep These many small levies, scattered about, would start talk, the crescendo of this diatribe, spoken just before closing the great disparity between the highest and we stand up from our tiny Hart House table. Our knees lowest echelons. creak and our bottoms ache, but I’m so dazed with this “Then,” says Pickard, “we can look down the road. influx of ideas that I hardly notice. My mind swirls.

Basic income is going to reduce healthcare, justice, And despite the barriers, I’m hopeful. illiteracy, and other costs. It’s going to reduce what’s “There’s not a single person who wouldn’t be better lost in productivity and tax revenues because people off with a basic income,” Sanderson says. “And so it’s are too poor or sick or done in by poverty.” time for us to stand up and demand it.”

In Brazil, a grant called the Bolsa Familia reaches 50 million people. It’s currently handed out to families *Names changed upon request with children, but aims eventually to shake that con-

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feature

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Some days are better than others Depression, anxiety and the maintenance of mental health at U of T ARTICLE BY SALVATORE BASILONE ILLUSTRATIONS BY DIANA PHAM

F

Content warning: detailed discussion of struggles with mental illness and suicide

OR LISA*, EXAM SEASON last spring was about as daunting as it could possibly be. In a short span of time leading up to the end of term, she had witnessed the deaths of two of her closest friends. And yet she still felt the aching pressure of exams. In her own words, she had no time to grieve.

By the end of the school year, she had “completely shut down.” Luckily for her, the free mental health services accessible through UofT presented an opportunity to get better.

That was not the case for grad student John.* A year-long struggle with severe depression almost ended his academic career. John’s registration with Accessibility Services had lapsed, meaning that he no longer qualified for academic accommodation for his condition. After being unable to complete his year end assignments, only a tremendous effort to appeal to the university administration on the part of John’s father — a professor at the university — would prevent him from failing out of school.

John feels that if he had been in a debilitating car accident, rather than suffering from debilitating mental illness, the university would have been quicker to assist him. Had his father not had the time, expertise, and resources to advocate on his behalf, John thinks it likely that he would have had to forfeit his education.

Experiences like those of Lisa and John beg the questions: what is it like to struggle with mental illness at U of T? What support is there for students? And what happens when there are barriers to access?

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The state of mental health care

Finding help

When considering mental health, you cannot look at After the deaths of her friends, Lisa spent much an institution like U of T in isolation. of 2014 shut down emotionally. She suffered from It is estimated that more than 1 in 5 Canadians will anxiety, and a grief whose symptoms were very suffer from some sort of mental illness during their similar to those of depression. lifetimes, however, according to the Mental Health Lisa described her experience as one of “acute anxCommission of Canada, only one in three people ex- iety... there were moments I would just skip classes, I periencing these problems will seek treatment. was too anxious and afraid to be there for some reaBoth medication and psychotherapy – such as in- son.” “I would skip going out with friends. I would skip dividual or group talk therapy – have been shown to things, because of... this really deep social anxiety... be effective treatments for mental illnesses. For those It’s just pure fear.” living in Ontario, however, the level of difficulty in While her anxiety is a hard thing to explain, it inaccessing these treatments may challenge the funda- volved over thinking how others perceived her and mental concept of universal healthcare. everything she made. She kept in minimal to no conServices received from a psychiatrist – a physician tact with all but her best friends. who specializes in psychiatry– are covered under the “It was very difficult that year, but I had to make a Ontario Health Insurance Plan. Due to high demand, change, you know?” After several months of researchand low supply, however, it is exceedingly difficult to ing for available mental health services, Lisa contacted access treatment.

U of T’s Counseling and Psychological Services (CAPS) The services of psychologists and other trained in January of 2015. CAPS has since been consolidated professionals are, in the vast majority of cases, not into Health and Wellness at U of T. covered by OHIP. The costs for these services range Lisa was assessed by CAPS in late January, called routinely between $40 to $180 an hour. back in February, and began her therapy in March.

“That’s a feature of the government’s... decision to Considering that she had heard stories of students not fund that,” said Dr. Thomas Ungar, Chief of Psychi- waiting up to eight months, Lisa found the entire proatry at North York General Hospital, and an associate cess “very fast,” and very helpful. professor in U of T’s department of Psychiatry. “If you Though she met with a psychiatrist in case medhave an employer who covers that as part of your ben- ication was required, so far Lisa hasn’t needed any; efits, some people have access. If you have the income rather, she’s gotten by with the help of psychotherapy to cover it privately, you do it. If you don’t have the services. “I had individual therapy from March, like income... you cannot get that without paying.”

I said, till about June, early June. And then, from the “Covered, or even affordable services... are few and rest of June until August, I had group therapy, so it far between,” adds Katrina Snider, an occupational was like workshop at CAPS.” health therapist with the Canadian Mental Health “The one thing I would say is, I wish the individual Association. “The ability for people to access services therapy was longer, because three months of individis definitely really difficult, especially if they don’t ual therapy is nothing,” she said, voicing her only real know where to go in the first place.” criticism. “But then I understand, as well, because of While some therapy services not provided by med- the amount of students they need to attend to.” ical doctors are covered under OHIP, Snider said the With easy access and no cost, Lisa considers the serwait times for these can be as long as two years. vices offered by U of T to be of generally high quality.

All this clearly indicates that the mental health “I do want to go back, there are some things I need to services U of T provides for its students exists under touch up on. But, I would say I am [better]” she eximmense pressure to fill the gap in services not cur- plained. “I’m more confident now, I’m controlling the rently covered by our public health system. For the anxiety. I’m more open with my emotions, to friends over 80,000 students who attend U of T, the Student and family... I don’t know, I just feel better.”

Life fee grants them access to psychiatrists, psychologists, and other trained mental health professionals.

Last year, about 7,500 students attended 26,000 apLost in the system pointments at the Health and Wellness centre or other on-campus locations. Why did they reach out? What did “Generally, [its] debilitating. It’s hard to function, it’s they experience? What can these experiences tell us more hard to go to class, it’s hard to keep up with work broadly about how to address mental health in society? and talk to other people,” said Sara, a first-year student at U of T battling depression.

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Like Lisa, Sara also sought out mental health Despite these challenges, Sara, like Lisa and John, services through the university, and she too cites described herself as lucky. the lack of cost as a major benefit. “I didn’t really “I have a support system through the administration and have the opportunity to do that before,” she said. “If the people at [my college] but for the people that don’t?” you don’t go to the ones that are subsidized, then Sara trailed off, the weight of her question in tow. you have to pay for it... university was the first time “I wish they would have a better system of contacting where it’s all covered.” them, and... less bureaucracy.”

Sara receives regular counseling with a psychologist at her college. The health professionals at U of T On stigma, and reaching out have not prescribed medications. “They’ve told me its not severe enough... because the side effects “Sadly, stigma about mental health remains one of would outweigh the benefits” she explained. the biggest barriers for people accessing, and going Living in residence, it was her don with whom Sara for help for what would otherwise be very treatable first spoke about finding help. On the whole, she feels conditions,” says Dr. Ungar. “It’s a big barrier to members of the U of T administration have both treat- the quality of care that they get, and to the health ed her positively, and put in a good effort to help her outcomes that they get.” find the right care.

Dr. Ungar has written extensively on the stigmatization While she is very happy with the care she is receiv- of mental health, which he says are not only prevalent, ing, Sara is also critical of the process she had to go but also damaging. through to get help. “I need to tell someone this,” she “One of the things that I think is behind it is that said, “.... [G]etting there in the first place is kind of people have this incorrect belief that mental health hard.” “For many people, you need to go and call. And problems are not real.” you are the first one that’s calling, it’s not your don...

Katrina Snider echoes Ungar’s comments: “There’s it’s you.” a lot of people out there that still don’t accept mental For a person struggling with mental illness, this first illness as a growing problem in our society.” “It can be step can be the most difficult. scary for people to even reach out, because they fear Sara cites the hours of the Health and Wellness Cen- that they’ll be judged, or stigmatized, or discriminated tre – it’s open Monday, Wednesday, Friday from 9 am against... especially if you don’t even know where to to 5 pm and Tuesday and Thursday from 9 am to 7 pm go, right?”

– as one problem, since these hours for her are filled The university runs regular mental health literacy up by classes. When Sara was able to find time to call programs so that its faculty and other administrative the office, she was unable to get through. staff are literate and can help eradicate stigma, and “So first of all I can’t call them, I can’t schedule ap- approach students dealing with these struggles from pointments, I can’t move appointments around. Then a place of understanding, according to U of T assistant when I do call them, I’m placed on hold. And I’m placed vice-president of student life Lucy Fromowitz. on hold a couple times, the call is dropped. Like it’s According to Fromowitz, demographics are also relbeen really, really hard to get through to them.” evant, as many university students are at an age where

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mental health problems tend to emerge. “It is primarily “anxiety that comes with feeling like you have to prove it having to understand the numbers,” she said. “Seventy to people, and whether you are deserving of that label per cent of mental health problems or illnesses begin in and the accommodations that go with it, or whether you childhood or adolescence.” are just being a whiny bitch who can’t... get shit done.”

She believes that the shortcomings in the universiGetting the form filled out can also be costly — $200 ty’s current mental health provisions come down not in his case. “It’s going to take them two hours to get to the services available, but rather to communication through it,”John pointed out, and added “Most therabetween the institution and it’s students. pists are psychologists, and they are not free.”

“There are these processes in place, but do stuAccessibility Services also requires students to redents connect to the processes? And that’s really peat this process every year. While students can now where our biggest challenge at U of T,” said Fro- do this through email, John recalls that he was asked mowitz, “is to keep students informed of what they to repeat the initial registration process. When he need to know, when they need to know it, when began graduate studies at U of T, in the fall of 2013, the every student needs to know something else at a thought of going through the process again stymied different time.”

John. “I wasn’t even depressed [at the time],” he said, She remarked that the administration tries to im- “but even so, the form feels scary.” He didn’t re-register. prove all avenues of communication, from websites to Although John began his graduate studies excited and course syllabi, in order to reach students. refreshed, his depression soon resurfaced, producing a “This is a critical job that many of us have, because sorry reminder of his undergraduate experience. telling students about these processes when they are “It was a crushing disappointment,” he said. “Part of doing fine isn’t a good strategy, because they never it was letting myself get way too invested in [the work]... assume they are going to need a petitions process, or where I was burning myself out emotionally.” Things they’re going to not be well.” first began to slip in the fall, and worsened as the year went on. “It really started cascading I guess in February.

Breaking down, slipping through I made it until March break, middle of March... and then everything really went to hell. I started missing By the onset of winter in 2013, John had been receiving classes like crazy, I started not turning things in.” medication and therapy for depression and anxiety for By this point, John was suffering from severe depression. many years. John had first been affected by depression “When I get depressed, even the process of communication a year and a half into his undergraduate studies. He is fucked,” he explained. John didn’t answer the emails had left Toronto, where he was born and raised, to at- from his instructors asking what was wrong. tend school elsewhere, but this experience eventually John’s academic life was not the only place where led him to return home and enrol at U of T. his depression manifested: he stopped going to regular John got through the intervening years; his fami- appointments with his therapist, and lost touch with ly could afford to send him to a psychologist for talk close friends. therapy, and despite still having intermittent – and sometimes serious – difficulties with depression and anxiety, his academic career was on track.

John did not need to use the treatment options that the university offered, but he did initially register with Accessibility Services — the U of T department that handles accommodations for students with physical and mental health related disabilities.

“What that means in my case is almost nothing,” says John. “It means that I can, if necessary, get extensions on papers.”

The registration process involves a long form that must be filled out by a healthcare professional. While this was not difficult for John, who was already seeing a therapist regularly, he sees this process as a major barrier for others.

“Getting someone to feel comfortable enough to go to that desk, it’s hard,” John explained. He talked about the

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John was unable to pull things together and go back to Accessibility Services in time to register his illness; he missed the deadline to request extensions beyond the end of the term by about one week. “So then it became not about getting extensions, but about getting retroactive medical leave for a year. That would, one, make me not fail, and two, let me have the year off.”

But he was in no state to go through the necessary process, that would make this happen. “I would absolutely have failed out,” he said, were it not for the fact that he had someone who could advocate, and do this work, on his behalf.

How is it this hard?

part of faculty and perhaps the administration, about the reality of mental illness, and worry that this will be used as... an excuse.”

Smith still encourages students to reach out for help if they are experiencing any kind of mental health problems, despite the barriers. “You have people who are depressed and aren’t able to get their act together and do the things that they have to do to get the status, and so they take the course of least resistance which is to withdraw, to drop out, simply to disappear... I’ve certainly had students over the years who’ve just disappeared.”

For Smith, the appellate process was a “tremendous investment of effort” that involved never accepting no for an answer, and pushing the appeal to higher and higher levels, until a sympathetic ear was found. John was eventually granted a year away from school, and his grades were given a pending status.

And though he would spend much of the remainder of 2014 in a depressed, sometimes suicidal state, John was eventually able to connect with a psychiatrist who diagnosed his specific illness, and changed his medication.

Once he was well enough to complete the coursework for 2014, John returned to his graduate studies at U of T. He also made sure to register with accessibility services this past September.

John’s story reveals the way a person’s — and a family’s — resources matter. “I spent hours drafting the appeals,” Smith recounts. His job put him in a position where he could devote the necessary time and energy, and gave him a familiarity with the institution with which he was negotiating. “I’m an academic, I know how to write this... and I know what language they need. If he had ‘normal’ parents, even if they were very committed, they wouldn’t know what to say.”

“It worked out fine for [John] in the end. But it can’t be okay that that’s what it takes to work out fine, because it’s not going to work out fine for most people.”

Professor Smith* has taught at U of T for over a decade.

He is also John’s father. “[My son] just wasn’t able to do the things that he loves to do for himself, that had nothing to do with school work,” said Smith, “so I could see that he was not going to be able to do any of these things that they were asking him to do.”

“I see this with other students as well: there are these... requirements in place which don’t look unreasonable... except if somebody is depressed and finding it difficult to do anything, then you have this whole series of steps to go through and... people often just give up.”

Appealing on behalf of his son, Smith found the responses from the administration unsympathetic at first; if John was having health problems, then the requisite notification should have been given earlier, before grades were due.

“It’s fair enough that at least some of the professors had written emails to him, and he had not responded.

But the nonresponse was itself a symptom of the mental health problem, which was depression, which leads to the incapacity to do things that normally would be perfectly reasonable to expect.”

Smith chalks up these problems partly to the bureaucratic administration that is characteristic of large institutions like U of T. However, some of it also has to “I didn’t want to be in a mental ward” do with suspicion of mental health issues in general.

“I think there is an excessive concern for preventing “It just sort of snuck up on me, I guess,” said Vik,* a somebody from getting away with something,” he said, first-year commuter student at U of T, talking about adding, “there is a background [of] skepticism on the the depression that began to emerge in his final year

“ THERE ARE THESE... REQUIREMENTS

IN PLACE WHICH DON’T LOOK UNREASONABLE ... EXCEPT IF SOMEONE IS DEPRESSED AND FINDING IT DIFFICULT TO DO ANYTHING

”

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of high school, and which continues to affect him.

His family doctor diagnosed him with depression this past August. Two weeks later, he was hospitalized after what was deemed an ‘attempted suicide.’

“They just put one label under any overdose,” he explained. “So if you overdose, you are suicidal, and you need to be under supervision and be hospitalized.” The drug in question was Zoloft, a common antidepressant.

Vik says that the overdose was not severe, and that he probably would have recovered without emergency care.

Hospitalization lasted two weeks, where he was placed in the mental health care unit. “That was supposed to fix me, but it just made me more paranoid I guess,” he said.

For Vik, it is not easy to categorize his overdose. He described it as being motivated by “a mix of wanting to get better and wanting to feel worse. That sounds really weird, but I think that’s the best way to put it.”

He described his depression in terms of feeling worthless, and as if nothing matters.

Starting university was a positive change, at least insofar as his studies gave him a much needed distraction. Still, Vik said, “In the first month and a half I didn’t really socialize, I didn’t talk to anyone.”

Vik sought help from U of T’s mental health services soon after he began university. He was given information on other mental health resources closer to his

home, and a list of phone numbers to call in case he needed help.

He was also given an appointment with a psychiatrist working at the university. “In the first session, I was sort of too cool,” he said. “They asked me how I was doing and... what I’ve been doing to cope with my anxiety and depression and stuff. And, I didn’t really lie about that.”

“But then they asked me if I was suicidal or not, and

“

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IN THE FIRST MONTH AND A HALF I DIDN’T REALLY SOCIALIZE, I DIDN’T TALK TO ANYONE.”

obviously I lied about that because if I said ‘Yes’ then they would have to inform the authorities, right? Because I’m a ‘danger to myself’ if I was.”

Vik confirmed that he did have suicidal tendencies at the time he spoke to the U of T psychiatrist, although at that point the feelings were not as severe as they had been during the summer. Mainly, Vik wanted to avoid being assessed using a Form One, an application

qualified medical practitioners in Ontario can use to order involuntary hospitalizations. Form One is typically reserved for instances in which a patient presents a danger to themselves or to others.

Forced hospitalizations authorized under a Form One cannot extend beyond 72 hours and involuntary treatment or medication can only be administered in an emergency, or with the consent of a ‘substitute decision maker,’ usually a family member.

“Its a challenge, but you don’t do it lightly,” said Ungar of the Form One process. “You do it with your complex professional judgement.” He called it an act of compassion and kindness, and one that often saves lives.

“I can understand how people sometimes get scared — that if they share what they are going through, we will just send them to the hospital,” said Snider, who herself lacks the legal power to put a patient under a Form One. “We have to take those things seriously... at the end of the day, we are really looking at their best interests. We don’t want them to follow through with a plan.”

She added that a distinction is meant to be made between passive and active suicide ideation. “Someone just sharing suicidal thoughts, at least in the team I work with, does not necessarily mean that they are going to be formed and sent to the hospital.”

It is hard to say what exactly would have happened to Vik had he responded differently to the psychiatrist’s questions, and he is not entirely sure himself, but the fear of hospitalization definitely affected his decisions.

“I wanted to go through university, and just lead like a normal life,” he said. “I didn’t want to be in a mental ward, just in a white room.” Having spent time in just such a place in the summer, Vik didn’t feel like going back.

Vik told Health and Wellness at U of T what he thought they wanted to hear. He does admit that talking to them about his problems did help him feel somewhat better. He still takes medication, but he stopped seeing the psychiatrist in early October.

Now, he does his best to cope on his own. “For me, fighting depression is just trying to distract yourself.”

He does this mostly by delving into his studies. “When I’m not studying, I’m like just a dark cloud.”

He tries to sit at the front of the class, as this allows him to concentrate better on lessons; sitting in the middle or the back makes it easier for “dark thoughts” to surface.

It is not easy for Vik to explain what dealing with his depression is actually like. He described lectures as “pretty fun,” but then later added that he doesn’t really enjoy school beyond the distraction it provides.

“I don’t really enjoy anything... I can lead a normal life, and I can put on a face that makes it seem like I am happy, but,” he explained, “depression is just always in the back of your head... no matter what you do, no matter where you are... it’s always in the back of your head trying to claw its way up at the front.”

Vik is trying to make friends, surround himself with positive people, and make a habit of studying in groups instead of by himself. Thinking about the future also helps. “My outlook is that, like, one day, maybe in the near future, I do surround myself with positive people, and I ... can look back at this time period as just a phase in my life.”

Asked if he thought was going to be okay, he quickly says “No, I don’t think so,” but added, “Oh, okay. I thought you were going to say ‘am I going to commit suicide?’” He laughs as he says this. “Am I going to be okay? I’m getting better.”

Part of me, not all of me The one thing Vik doesn’t want is to be patronized or pitied, a sentiment echoed by others interviewed for this piece. “I definitely don’t like pity. Pity is horrible,” said Lisa. She wants people to seek help when they can, and not to avoid using a treatment like therapy because they don’t feel their issues are “severe enough to qualify.”

“It’s always in the back of your mind, but it’s not always at the forefront of your life,” said John. For example: even during the nearly year-long depression that saw him leave school and stop speaking to his friends, John still had more than one romantic relationship — a fact that may be surprising, but one that, in his words, others should see as “an illustration of the way depression isn’t a singular, totalizing thing.”

John is upfront with people, especially with possible partners, about his depression, but he doesn’t like the idea of being someone’s guinea pig, or of having to explain depression to them. “Read a book, there’s a lot of them,” he said.

“I feel like people have a tendency to characterize whatever you do as a function of what you are going through internally,” said Sara. She said we should take people as a whole, and not reduce them to their mental illness.

“It’s kind of patronizing. It’s not deliberate, I know that. They would never voluntarily do that kind of thing. It’s just that, ‘Oh she’s doing this, she’s overcoming her thing, like go her! Yay!’ Like, no.”

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life

A love letter to relationships before Tinder ARTICLE BY RIDA FATIMA

ILLUSTRATION BY MIA CARNEVALE

Dear Past, The world has gone haywire. Just look at the pitiful state of romantic relationships. Divorce rates are soaring and wedding vows no longer mean what they used to. We live in a non-committal nightmare, afraid to ask for what we want and unhappy with what we have. You offered something so much better: crystal clear purpose that no one questioned. You presented heartthrobs such as William Darcy and Prince Charming; You championed courtly love between knights and ladies.

Here we are now, reduced to ‘Netflix and chill’ as we swipe left or right on a plethora of anonymous photographs. You had fate, destiny, and soulmates, we have compatibility algorithms with a 20 per cent success rate. You had love at first sight, and lovers communicating by pen from across oceans; We have Internet vetting and conversations written entirely in emojis. We exist in a Tinder-ridden dystopia, the effects of which ripple far into our distracted lives. So, with a humble heart, I write this letter in attempt to woo you back.

We long, dear friend, for the golden days of romance. Seriously, what happened to chivalry?

Well, somewhere along the way, damsels decided it was just as legitimate to aspire to be Malala as Sleeping Beauty, and prince charmings ceased to accept societal standards for masculinity indiscriminately. While those who do not conform to your standards still face barriers and stigmatization, society is slowly breaking down conceptions of binary gender, sexuality, and romanticism.

People routinely decide not to get married, and to enter into relationships on their own terms.

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However, all this progress aside, don’t we all long for the good old days? The days when you could expect to have a conversation over dinner uninterrupted by the persistent buzzing of cell phones?

Ah yes, the good old days were far superior. We can do without the gains made by feminism, can’t we? Sure, women are finally proving that their value goes beyond bearing children and homemaking. In this space and time, the trend away from young marriages allows women to pursue a higher education and build careers. Men, meanwhile, are granted parental leave, and benefit from the gradual eradication of crushing expectations placed on them by the patriarchy. But wasn’t it much simpler, dear past, in your time? Husbands were meant to be the breadwinners, and wives stayed at home. Weren’t divorce rates so much lower when marriages were asymmetrical arrangements?

Today, people routinely choose to have fewer children, or none at all.

They pursue careers, volunteerism, and travel; they experiment with love, sex, and relationships in free, enlightened ways. Your romantic dream of a linear progression from meeting, to marriage, to children is under threat.

Modern lovers might even help curb the population problem.

For some reason, friend, society seems to be diverging from your heteronormative, misogynist path, and moving on to something new.

And yet we are consumed by an impersonal, detached dating climate.

Is it really worth the tradeoff?

(Yes, yes it is. Good riddance) Sincerely, Rida

outlook

Ugly and endangered A look at some of the least charismatic endangered creatures, and why they need your help ARTICLE BY MALLIKA MAKKAR

T

ILLUSTRATIONS BY KAWMADIE KARUNANAYAKE

O MOST, A PHOTO OF a large, hairy spider, or deep-sea predator would more likely provoke revulsion than empathy. It is difficult to call reptiles, plants, microorganisms, and other similar critters “cute” or “relatable” by normal standards. Their photos are not generally chosen to be the faces of large conservation campaigns run by organizations like the World Wildlife Fund (WWF) and People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals (PETA).

Let’s face it: not all creatures’ appearances generate the same kind of emotional attachment as that of a fuzzy polar bear, especially if that polar bear is precariously positioned on a melting glacier. The problem with this bias against ugly endangered animals is that it deems them less deserving of protection than their cute and cuddly counterparts.

The only way to tackle this stigma is by learning these animals’ stories — five of which are presented here.

We begin with the bulbous, slimy, purple pignose frog (Nasikabatrachus sahyadrensis). Native to India, particularly Kerala’s Cardamom Hills, this frog lives underground in the forest, and only surfaces during mating seasons, where it breeds in freshwater. Unfortunately, due to a rampant increase in farming for coffee, cardamom, ginger, and other culinary items, the amount of space available to these frogs is quickly decreasing. In fact, these frogs are known to reside in only five remaining habitats. Even within these spaces, the frogs are threatened due to anthropogenic sources of habitat destruction.

Next, admire the beady-eyed, oddly proportioned Singapore freshwater crab (Johora singaporensis). Native to its island namesake, the freshwater crab prefers to spend its time under rocks and piles of leaves in freshwater habitats. A boom in technological advancement and modernization efforts in Singapore have consequently led to large increases in acid rain and pollution. This, in turn, reduces the overall quality and safety of the water, thereby depleting the crab’s habitat.

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We now turn our attention to the amorphous giant softshell turtle (Rafetus swinhoei). The International Union for Conservation of Nature (IUCN) has classified this species as critically endangered, with only four of these turtles left in its recorded population. The giant softshell turtle is native to China, where it is considered culturally valuable.

A surge in pollution due to heavy industrialization, combined with excessive hunting, for human consumption and trophy keeping, has not only depleted the species’ numbers, but also – you guessed it – its habitat.

The more garish of the two remaining examples is the gooty tarantula (Poecilotheria metallica). This species of tarantula is native to India, where it makes a home for itself in the various corners of old-growth forests. Sadly, these forests are undergoing escalating amounts of logging for human use, and the human colonies surrounding the forests also exploit the natural resources that are available. IUCN has listed the gooty tarantula as critically endangered, because the destruction humans inflict on its natural habitat will inevitably cause a dramatic reduction in the creatures’ population.

Our final example is the Indian Gharial (Gavialis gangeticus), which is also listed as critically endangered by the IUCN. The Gharial comes from India; there, its main habitat includes the tributaries of the Ganges River. Gharials have been hunted for decades as trophies, and for human use in food and medicine. Furthermore, an increase in manmade infrastructure, including dams and agricultural systems, also increases the risk that Gharials will be killed, as their ability to find safe sites for nesting and grouping is compromised.

The dismal reality is that caring about biodiversity and endangerment issues involves far more than donating a few dollars a month to fulfill selfish altruism quotas, and constraining a few popularly known species to life behind bars in zoos. Appreciating biodiversity requires an understanding of the variety of roles that other non-human species on earth perform: nutrient recycling, oxygen generation, carbon dioxide storage, and pest control, to name a few.

The plight of these not-so-pretty creatures is real and concerning, yet, it produces very little response. The loss of even one species affects entire ecosystems; delicate ecological relationships therefore will become gradually more imbalanced.

This will take a toll on our composition of the biosphere that surrounds us, reducing our capacity for continued coexistence with other living forms. All species deserve protection, not just the cute ones.

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student life

Is it 2015 in tech and engineering yet?

Women discuss what it’s like to study and work in a field dominated by men

ARTICLE AND PHOTOS BY SHAHIN IMTIAZ

“B

EACAUSE IT’S 2015.” Prime Minister Justin Trudeau used these words to explain his decision to opt for gender equality in his newly inaugurated cabinet — a first in Canadian history.

Last winter, the University of Toronto announced another record in gender equality: 30.6 per cent of first-year undergraduates enrolled in engineering programs were, for the first time ever, women. While this was celebrated as a major gain in correcting the historic disparity between male and female enrollment in engineering, it is notable that the tech field now lags behind the federal cabinet in terms of gender equality substantially. I spoke with U of T students in tech and engineering in order to gain their perspectives on the unequal gender distribution in their programs and the tensions that can consequently ensue.

I made this car Nicole D’lyma is a fourth-year electrical engineering student. Last year, she led a team of 17 students representing Canada at the World Solar Challenge.

Together, they designed and built a solar powered car.

When the team took their creation to events, however, D’lyma notes times when she and her other female teammates were mistaken for showgirls promoting the vehicle. “[J]ust being in engineering, and being on the solar car team, and being one of the leaders as well, people... seem kind of surprised when they hear that a girl is in charge of all this,” D’lyma said.

D’lyma described these people as “pleasantly surprised” to discover her role in the project. While those making these kinds of comments may not be intended to be sexist or demeaning, D’lyma feels that such situations arise due to the stereotype of the typical male engineer. This idea is far from innocuous.

Amanda Bell, an undergraduate student and president of the University of Toronto Computer Science Student Union (CSSU), has also come into contact with these attitudes.

Bell recalled an incident at a university party, where, upon discovering that she had scored a lucrative internship at Google, another student replied, “You only got it because you’re a girl.” “ ... [H]e knew nothing about my resume or what personal projects I did or what my grades are... I don’t necessarily think that’s the [majority‘s mindset], but

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the reality is a lot of people think that way,” Bell said.

Anam Alvi, another CSSU member and a second-year computer science student, added that this way of thinking is endemic, and harmful because it dismisses the progress women have made.

“There are a lot of really stupid jokes about girls being diversity hires. People say it without any [bad] intentions but the fact is that they say it without thinking that there’s anything wrong about it. They don’t realize how stupid they sound,” Alvi said. This discourse, however misguided, still has its effects. “If I ever get hired for something, at the back of my mind it’s always going to be like ‘I was a diversity hire,’” she added.

“I don’t belong here” Women in engineering and tech also report a host of subtle problems with the program’s predominantly male culture. “If I’m ever around a group of guys, I’ll have a lot of pressure to not mess up. Because then they’ll be like ‘She’s a minority, she’s a girl so obviously she’s an idiot,” Alvi said. “[Y]ou don’t want to ask questions because you don’t want a guy to have that impression of you, and that’s really harmful because asking questions is how you grow, it’s how you learn and how you [become] better,” added Bell.

This experience can be more than a little disheartening.

“I found it very difficult, my whole first year actually,” said Alvi. “I still feel sometimes like just because I’m a girl, I feel like I don’t belong here, like I’m in the wrong place and I’m not a part of the community,” said Alvi. She points to the self-consciousness that comes with being a minority and the persistent mocking from her peers — probably intended as playful, but ultimately harmful to her mental health.

Part of the solution to this problem, according to Bell and Alvi, will be opening up a dialogue within the community to address these day-to-day experiences. “ ...[P}eople will say they want equality for women but they won’t talk about the small things, they won’t talk about the stigma around it, about the small comments and why they’re wrong and why they’re harmful to women,” explained Alvi.

Both women agree that most of their male peers don’t seem to think there is any problem with how things are. Alvi recalls getting into arguments with peers when Bell’s proposal for gender sensitivity training in the CSSU that was shut down. The two main counter points, she explained, were that such a program wouldn’t make a difference, and that it was unnecessary. This is evidence, she explained, of the

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fact that without serious discussion, these issues are left unrecognized.

Bell recalls another point of tension which arose during her time interning at Google. The women in the company were given “assertiveness training” as an attempt to combat sexism, but the men weren’t involved in the workshop. To Bell, this was a major omission.

“I wish they bombarded the guys as well,” she said.

“Because if they did, it would help improve things.”

What does an engineer look like?

Anisa Mohammed, a computer science student, CSSU social director and make-up artist, is called “pink computer girl” in one of her classes. “I don’t even have a name,” she said, “ ...[Y]ou’re the girl with the pink computer, that’s what they’ll define you by.”

Taamannae Tabassum, a third year computer science student, agrees with Mohammed that, as women, they have to go an extra mile to be taken seriously by their peers, lest they be talked over. “ [When talking to guys] I have to be louder, I have to be more assertive, and I have to be like when I talk to you there’s no way you can say no to me,” said Mohammed.

Like Bell, Tabassum too has been told that the reason she has hired to fulfill gender quotas.

Others have told her, “‘[D]on’t worry, you’ll get in because you’re a girl... [W]ell why can’t I get it because I’m smart enough?” Tabassum asked.

Vatsal, a fourth-year male computer science student and teaching assistant, has witnessed some of the issues both his peers and students face. He notes that a women in a team of his students is often delegated the task of beautifying things, while men take on the coding.

Uri Goldberg, a first-year computer science student has also witnessed sexism on campus. He recalls an incident where, in a group project, a girl was only ‘allowed’ to do the docstrings, which is the text accompanying code, by an male project partner who had assumed control.

While there is still some way to go in improving gender equality in the field of engineering, some are working hard to accelerate this process. Samantha Stuart, for example, is a second year engineering student who recently won a national scholarship from the Canadian Engineering Memorial Foundation in recognition of her outreach efforts to high school students. Perhaps, if role models like Stuart continue to take initiative and gain recognition, a situation where women in computer science and engineering continue to be outstanding, but cease to be exceptional, is on the near horizon.

Clockwise from top lef: Anam Alvi; Taamannae Tabassum; Amanda Bell; Anisa Mohammed; Samantha Stuart

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arts

The good, the bad, and the artist How can we appreciate art produced by evil geniuses?

ARTICLE BY JACOB LORINC ILLUSTRATION BY MIRKA LOISELLE

L

ENI RIEFENSTAHL KNEW her angles. She knew exactly how to frame her shots, how to capture her preferred lighting, and how to create a devastatingly dramatic effect by way of cinematic arrangement. She spent the better part of her career in Germany during the ‘30’s and ‘40’s, before her work would go on to become celebrated internationally. According to film scholar Mark Cousins, “next to Orson Welles and Alfred Hitchcock, Leni Riefenstahl was the most technically talented filmmaker of her era.”

If you ask film critic Gary Morris, Riefenstahl was “an artist of unparalleled gifts, a woman in an industry dominated by men, one of the great formalists of the cinema on a par with Einstein.” Riefenstahl died at 101 years of age in 2003, but praise for her work lives on.

Her legacy has endured throughout the twentieth century, and her art continues to inspire photographers and filmmakers alike.

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Leni Riefenstahl was also a Nazi. In the early 1930’s, Riefenstahl developed a friendly relationship with Adolf Hitler, and before long, was commissioned to create a series of propaganda films for the Nazi Party. Through funding from Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi Party’s minister of propaganda, Riefenstahl created The Victory Of Faith, shortly followed by Triumph Of The Will, an hour-and-a-half long documentary about the 1934 Nazi rally in Nuremberg. Riefenstahl later denied having knowledge of the film’s intent, but her close involvement with the party strongly suggested otherwise. In a report from The Detroit News she was quoted saying, “To me, Hitler is the greatest man who ever lived. He truly is without fault, so simple and at the same time so possessed of masculine strength.”

So, how might a Nazi become a widely celebrated artist? It’s a legitimate question, and not an easy one to answer. Apart from the fact that the Nazis were well-known art-haters, they were also Nazis; intuitively, there is no reason to celebrate a Nazi for anything. But Riefenstahl is a fascinating exception. Her love for the Third Reich certainly doesn’t lessen her technical capabilities, but whether she deserves international acclaim for her artwork is a very different question.

The art world, as you’ve probably noticed, is lousy with awful people. Riefenstahl, while certainly unfavorable, is arguably not the worst among them. The list of bad people who make good art is extensive, which forces you to question whether the two components are interconnected, and if their misdoings are a byproduct of their own creative brilliance. Jerry Lee Lewis married his 13-year old cousin; Roman Polanski is said to have raped a 13-year old girl; Mark Wahlberg beat and racially abused a Vietnamese man; and Snoop Dogg faced a charge for murder.

Oh, and Riefenstahl isn’t the only anti-Semite in the art world, either; she’s accompanied by Richard Wagner, Mel Gibson, Walt Disney, T.S. Elliot, Coco Chanel, and a crusade’s worth of others.

Ultimately, if it weren’t for fame, wealth, and a few other systemic variables, these transgressors would — or should — be sitting in their local penitentiaries, and Chuck Berry would likely be stationed in solitary confinement.

Questions then turn to the artist’s perceived legacy. Artists like Riefenstahl and Wagner are not simply bad people who also happened to make decent art, they’re bad people who happened to be artistic geniuses; their art is integral to our understanding of their respective art forms, and without them, we would have a vastly altered version of their fields.

Professor John Haines teaches musicology at U of T, with a specific focus on medieval studies. His written works range from music during the Middle Ages, to popular music more broadly. Recently, Haines led a course on musical scores in film. He pointed out that when he teaches the course, it is integral that he note the importance of Richard Wagner’s compositions in his lectures. “If you listen to his music, it’s an acquired taste,” Haines explained. “It’s difficult to get into. But there’s no question to me that his music is great music, and is worthy of study regardless of what his personal life was like. To a certain extent, we have to be able to separate that.”

Wagner, who once wrote that his “long suppressed resentment against Jewish Business” was “as necessary to [him] as gall is to the blood,” was also the inventor of the ‘leitmotif,’ an incredibly influential element of music that serves the purpose of associating a short musical phrase with a person, place, or idea. It is a concept used frequently in films.

For instance: the Darth Vader entrance music in Star Wars is a leitmotif. The majestic trumpets that sound off when Indiana Jones escapes the Temple of Doom is also a leitmotif.

In fact, one could argue that the marimba tone that plays on your iPhone alarm every morning is a leitmotif as well.

Arguably, the first thing you hear every morning before you get out of bed is the invention of Hitler’s favorite anti-Semitic composer. Chew on that the next time you wake up.

Still, “a lot depends on the extent to which the artist’s unsavoury views have registered within the artwork,” said Ellen Lockhart, associate professor of musicology at the Faculty of Music. “If they really can’t be overlooked or forgotten for any considerable stretch, then that art is unlikely to inspire audience affection beyond its original time and place.”

These notions apply to Wagner, whose anti-Semitism doesn’t really factor into his work, but whose music has stood the test of time. That being said, this fails to justify the success of Leni Riefenstahl, whose most famous works feature a young Adolf Hitler giving the Nazi salute in front of a million German people at a Nazi rally.

Haines and Lockhart are intent on separating these artists from their work, largely in order to appreciate the artwork without validating the artist’s personal actions. “Can I love Wagner’s The Meistersingers of Nuremberg and still be a good person? Of course,” explained Lockhart. “But I have no interest in celebrating these artists as people. Let’s put it this way: Wagner’s operas are on my shelves and in my DVD player, but his picture isn’t on my wall, and I make no pilgrimages to his hometown.”

“

THE FIRST THING YOU’RE HEARING EVERY MORNING BEFORE YOU GET OUT OF BED IS THE INVENTION OF HITLER’S FAVORITE ANTI-SEMITIC COMPOSER.”

FALL 2015

53

food

Dissecting the dish Is the cultural appropriation of food inevitable?

ARTICLE BY SONALI GILL

A

ILLUSTRATION BY JULIEN BALBONTIN

MY PAKATI, food critic for The Toronto Star, recently interviewed a chef who told her “all chefs appropriate food.”

While this may come across as a shocking statement, there is an observable pattern in cities like Toronto wherein certain food creations — whether or not they are authentic — act as representatives of an entire culture’s cuisine, and become mainstream in restaurants. Is this an inevitable result of globalization? Perhaps.

I recently dined at Mother’s Dumplings, a popular Chinatown spot famous for its dough-covered delicacies. Perhaps due to the popularity of locations like Mother’s Dumplings, in this time and place, dumplings — perhaps accompanied by General Tao’s chicken — have become to Chinese cuisine what nachos and salsa are to Mexican cuisine – quintessential.

One could argue that this phenomenon has existed since cultures began interacting with one another. Now, in multicultural hubs such as Toronto, westernized versions of ‘Chinese,’ ‘Mexican,’ and ‘Indian’ cuisines, among others, are ubiquitous and often limited.

It is worth reflecting on the ways in which cultural food is appreciated today. When do food trends limit the possibility of exposure to authentic cultural food? How do restaurant owners, some of whom are immigrants themselves, interact with market dynamics to produce these quintessential items? And, perhaps most importantly, what, if anything, is lost in this process?

Whatever makes your belly grumble There is arguably some pressure generated by advertising — like those junk food campaigns which sneak in before you watch a video on YouTube, to which many of us fall prey.

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As a child I was a victim to some serious campaigning by McDonald’s, and would routinely force my parents to take me there, only to eat half the meal. Clearly I, like many other young people with impressionable minds, wanted the immediate euphoria of eating food that many of my peer group at the time agreed was a ‘must-have’. The equivalent for university students might be inexpensive restaurants which offer large portions of food are.

One of the reasons people try different cuisines is because they seek change from their everyday diet; arguably, variety has become one of those must-haves that everyone is taught to crave. Many of us opt for something familiar and accessible such as Korean or Japanese ramen. Others seek out adventurous fusion creations — something different every week.

In a city as large and as ethnically diverse as Toronto, there is no shortage of options for food enthusiasts.

But when do certain cuisines stop being authentic and start to become instances of cultural appropriation?

The art of choosing “Everybody wants a greater variety of options,” said Shana Yogan, an employee at the U of T College Street hot spot, O’Grady’s pub. This begins a cycle of supply and demand in which restaurants diversify their menu with cultural offerings; the competition also serves their own version of the same quintessential dishes.

“It becomes viral,” explained Yogan, “popular dishes — but with our twist.” The right combination between familiar and unique, according to Yogan, is the recipe for success when developing a menu aimed at variety.

Whether in restaurants that specialize in a certain cuisine, or places like O’Grady’s that try to appeal to all sorts, it is clear that stereotypes sell.

I also visited The Saj — a Mediterranean eatery also located on College Street. It strikes me that The Saj seems to present itself with a global identity while appealing to specific regional tastes.

Its menu features pizzas, pastas, and wraps, all relatable western dishes served with a Mediterranean twist.

The Saj derives its name from a “hot clay hillshaped oven” of the same name, used about 5,000 years ago to make flattened and baked bread.

I’ve observed that the names of restaurants are not only chosen to represent, but also to market a certain culture; many of these are as exotic as possible while still remaining accessible. A visit to your friendly neighbourhood Ali Baba’s reveals as much.

I would argue that these practices re-

duce feelings of cultural ignorance for the consumer. Consumers often forget that businesses exist to give them what they want, and that by demanding the same old stuff, the pursuit of diversity is hampered.

Toronto’s taste?

One could argue that while cultural appropriation occurs in places like Toronto, spurred by the asymmetric interaction of majority and minority cultures, new cultural identities are simultaneously created. This may explain why migrants who run family-owned restaurants choose to stick with the familiar stereotypes in order to make ends meet.

There is also a case to be made by restaurant owners for tailoring food to the local palate, which may compromise authenticity, but which is necessary in a market economy in order to appeal to customers’ demands. Once individuals experience a ‘foreign’ culture through the eyes of a migrant, they may consider those experiences to be authentic, and continue to crave that particular form of cultural immersion.

On the other hand, second year Rotman Commerce student Mara Mg grew up in the Philippines, and found the various iterations of Filipino cuisine in Toronto were inauthentic, and unsatisfactory.

She later realized that “the necessary ingredients for good, authentic Filipino food couldn’t be found in Canada.” From this point of view, is it even possible to achieve authentic cultural cuisine when the place from whence that cuisine originated is half way across the world? To what ends, then, should consumers and restaurateurs strive?

Powerfully yours Google the term ‘cultural appropriation’ and you will be inundated with stories of individuals of European descent appropriating the cultural practices of individuals of non-European descent. It is clear that cultural asymmetry power plays a significant role in many human interactions. However, it is imperative that we desist from creating new stereotypes dependent on the possession of power to replace pre-existing ones, particularly in the case of something as personal as food. “Stereotyping is never good,” said Pataki. Be that as it may, it appears that some cultural appropriation is here to stay.

FALL 2015

55

Who is Justin Trottier?

interview

A men’s issues activist, U of T grad, and former Green Party candidate, Trottier is a public figure under frequent scrutiny. Here’s what happened when he sat down with The Varsity

ARTICLE BY TOM YUN

I

PHOTO BY SNEHA DASGUPTA

WAS WALKING DOWN to the Canadian Centre for Men and Families on Carleton Street where I had arranged to meet with Justin Trottier, the executive director of the Canadian Association for Equality (CAFE), to try to find out what he, and his organization, truly stand for.

CAFE has been widely called a ‘men’s rights association’ (MRA) which, critics allege, exhibits thinly veiled misogyny. CAFE commonly advertises events on campus, some of which have attracted protests from feminist groups, and student unions. Like any organization, CAFE is given life by an impassioned group of people. I was curious to talk to the person leading the charge.

Trottier is no stranger to The Varsity. During his undergraduate years at U of T he was a frequent contributor to the Science section until 2006, when he graduated with a degree in Applied Science and Engineering. He has also served on The Varsity’s Board of Directors.

In 2007, he was assaulted at Ryerson University while putting up posters advertising a secular event and argued that this incident was a hate-motivated crime. In response, The Varsity’s editorial board at the time wrote that he should “start working on [his] left hook, and leave the Charter defense to the real victims.”

Trottier greeted me outside and led me upstairs to his office. I first asked him how he got involved with CAFE and men’s issues activism.

“I got involved with all this primarily as a result of my participation with a number of social justice organizations,” he said. Trottier went on to explain that he has been involved in the LGBT movement, in secular and humanist causes, and the environmental movement.

He also mentioned his stint as a Green Party candidate in the 2011

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provincial election, in which he received 1,325 votes in the riding of Parkdale-High Park.

“One of the things I noticed, not just me but others who worked with me to found the organization, was that men’s issues were an ignored or a marginalized component of a lot of social justice movements and our concern was that by ignoring that piece, we were not being fair to men and their families because men have legitimate health issues and other kinds of issues,” he said.

A disdain for labels Trottier refuses to label himself as a feminist and told me that, in his opinion, “feminism and women’s rights are not the same thing.” However, according to CAFÉ’s website, the organization does not identify as a men’s rights group either. I asked Trottier to elaborate on this.

He said that the group sees itself as a “public education organization,” and explained that it achieved charity status with the Canada Revenue Agency (CRA) as a public benefit organization. “[The CRA] will look at your website, they will look at your videos, they will look at the events that you’ve had. They will ask you bunch of questions. They will ask you to provide research to back up what you’re saying if they question it, and then they will decide if you’re a public benefit organization,” Trottier explained.

Trottier brought our conversation to the work that the Centre for Men and Families, a CAFE initiative, has been doing, saying, “We’re also providing social services like free counseling, free peer support, free legal aid, free fathering programs to both men and women, and that’s our focus.”

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In pursuit of this mandate, Trottier says wlabels are an unnecessary distraction.

“We focus on the mission and mandate that I’m explaining to you: the social services, the public education. We just find that those labels, they’re conversation-enders. They’re not conversation starters.”

I asked Trottier if there was anything else that distinguishes CAFE from MRAs, beyond its charity status. Once again, he stressed the work that the Centre has been doing.

“If you want to call that an MRA, you can do that and some people do. But I’m not interested in that. That’s an academic debate that I’m not interested in having.”

“Judge us by the company that we keep and the activity that we do and the groups that we’re serving. And let’s not fixate on these labels.”

“The company that we keep” CAFE gained particular infamy on campus in 2012 when it, along with the its affiliated campus club, Men’s Issues Awareness at U of T, hosted controversial academic Warren Farrell for an event. Farrell is perhaps best known for his book, The Myth of Male Power, in which he claims the existence of systematic discrimination against men.

The event that hosted Farrell on campus was met with protests organized by feminists on campus, as well as the University of Toronto Students’ Union (UTSU). National media was also watching, as tensions were high and police presence heavy. Protesters barricaded the entrance to the event, fire alarms were pulled, and there were reports of physical assault from both sides.

I asked Trottier how CAFE could reconcile its mission of equality with someone like Warren Farrell, whose views are widely perceived to be sexist. He described Farrell’s views as “provocative” but added, “This is a guy who has some very interesting ideas. I don’t necessarily agree with all of them.”

However, breaching the subject of the Warren Farrell event turned Trottier defensive, and he asked me why it seems that is “the only thing The Varsity cares about. Let’s have an honest discussion about what our organization is all about,” he said. “That was three and a half years ago. Since then, we built Toronto’s first men’s health centre.

It’s just interesting to see what the media continues to fixate on.”

On or off campus In September, after online threats were made against feminists at U of T, CAFE moved one of its scheduled events to a nearby hotel off campus, on the advice of the University administration.

Trottier said that the administration actually recommended postponing the event until “things settle down” rather than simply moving the event off campus, but for logistical reasons, the event could not be postponed.

Nevertheless, Trottier promised that CAFE would host more events on campus in short measure.

“We will definitely keep having events like that,” said Trottier.

“Why shouldn’t we? Men’s help is absolutely vital. It’s just as important as the healthcare of any other group and we’re going to keep having events at U of T.” FALL 2015

57

reflection

reflection

I don’t eat when I’m hungry A reflection on living with disordered eating ARTICLE BY ENXHI KONDI PHOTO BY ALLY SCANDOLO

Content warning: graphic discussion of living with an eating disorder, suicidal thoughts

T

HE FIRST TIME I stuck my fingers down my throat and purged was on my twentieth birthday. It was my birthday cake. It was meant as a celebration of my life, but instead, it made me hate myself enough to claw at my throat to get it out.

Mental health discourse has made progress on university campuses in recent years, and yet throughout these conversations, eating disorders have not been adequately addressed. Studies show that while eating disorders can certainly manifest in a person of any sex and at any age, they are particularly common among women in their late teens to early twenties, meaning university students are at high risk of being affected.

I’m not going to spout statistics though; a quick Google search will back up virtually any anecdote on disordered eating. Instead, I’m going to share what it’s like to live with an eating disorder.

Eating disorders are a cruel and twisted outcome of a society that values people based on unrealistic standards of beauty. We have somehow managed to turn our natural sustenance — food — into a source of addiction,

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fear, and both external and internal validation. On top of that, as a society we’re too afraid and too ignorant to talk about it.

Medically speaking, eating disorders are extremely complicated and it is rare for people to seek diagnosis. Frankly, disordered eating is so normalized by fad diets and weight-loss tricks that the signs of a disorder appear trivial and are easy to hide. I’m not talking about forgetting to eat every now and then, or skipping meals because you’re on a time-crunch.

I’m talking about willfully starving yourself, consciously relishing in the feeling of hunger because it will inevitably make you skinnier, and purposefully causing yourself pain as punishment for eating. This is a psychological issue more than a physical one; like other mental illnesses, it is rooted in a convoluted perception of reality and one’s body image.

For me, it began with several layers of self-hatred, that ranged from dislike of my body to feelings of worthlessness and depression. Once the seed is planted in someone’s mind that they will be worthy if, and only if, they can fit a particular mold, their life becomes fundamentally meaningless to them until they can reach that often impossible standard. It starts in the mind. It exists, primarily, in thought. Perceptions of reality, and of one’s own body, are altered to the point of non-recognition. It is looking in the mirror and not knowing whether or not you like what you see.

I had heard before that diets and counting calories could get out of control, but I didn’t believe it until it was too late. An obsession with numbers renders you hyper-aware of your body at some times, and completely disconnected at others. Society not only shapes that obsession, but also reinforces it as friends and family start complimenting your appearance when you’re thinner. It’s like a sickly sweet shot of liquor: the compliments cover the poisonous taste and momentarily distract from symptoms — like dizziness or painful constrictions of an empty stomach. The behaviours become habitual. Imagine actually craving the sensation of your fingers down your throat and finding relief in having an empty stomach. There’s nothing glamorous about convincing yourself every time that this is the last time you’ll throw up and believing it when you lie to yourself that this is only temporary.

It doesn’t end at the physical inflictions — thoughts of food are all-consuming and paralyzing. It becomes mentally impossible to engage meaningfully with people, with schoolwork, and with obligations, when your focus is constantly torn between desperate hunger and an equally desperate need to appease the sickening voice inside your head. It hurts to think how ridiculous it is, yet in a way it makes sense, given how we are constantly bombarded with images of thin, beautiful people — the pinnacle of happiness.

There is no greater loss of control than being unable to read and respond to your body’s needs, and getting so lost in your psyche that the very source of your liveliness becomes the bane of your existence. I hit rock bottom a couple of months ago when I no longer saw a future for myself and was sure if the eating disorder didn’t kill me, then I would. This is not like most addictions, where the cure is to wean yourself off. Food is a necessity of life, but I no longer knew how to eat it.

Writing this is scary. What scares me most, however, is that my friends seeking support for their eating and body-image disorders are disregarded.

An eating disorder is deadly. It is a cry for help, accompanied by a stigma that we — those affected directly and indirectly — need to start working to eradicate. We need to be conscious, as a society, of the invented standards that inform our perceptions of beauty, and what that means for our day-to-day interactions. We need to talk about food, but not pass judgment on the amount that a person chooses to eat. We should voice concern to others and support them, but not pressure them when they’re not ready to seek help.

Most of all, we need to realize that having an eating disorder doesn’t need to be met with pity or censorship. If someone is strong enough to survive it, we are surely strong enough to start the conversation.

FALL 2015

59

fiction

TEBORI STORY BY JOHN DIAS ILLUSTRATIONS BY ANN SHEND

I was eating dinner at a Japanese restaurant downtown when my friend Beni remarked that one of the chefs was missing a joint on each of his pinky fingers. Beni had grown up in Japan and was convinced that the chef was a former member of the Yakuza.

She explained that there are many taboos in Japan associated with the Yakuza. Any person with missing fingers could be barred from employment, anyone with tattoos would not be permitted to enter public swimming pools, and wearing sunglasses in public was also considered to be improper, since Yakuza members wore them.

I quickly became fascinated with the Yakuza and read dozens of books about them. The following short story Tebori is inspired by Beni’s stories and the books I read.

I

REACH INTO THE BACK of the hallway closet and rest my

I run the kimono’s ultramarine fabric between my fingers. It hid

hands on a threadbare kimono that my father will never wear

my father’s tattoos the way the sea’s inky surface conceals man-eat-

again. Once its blue fabric enveloped his plump shoulders, and

ing creatures. My dad last wore it for an impromptu parent teacher

its long collar exposed a strip of flesh running from his sternum

interview ten years ago. I start to feel tightness in my throat, and I

to his navel. My dad’s entire torso, save that sliver of skin, is

dig my nails into the kimono. What the hell am I feeling guilty about?

stained with swirls of ink.

So what if I haven’t talked to my dad in months? I can only remember

Mirrored dragons adorn my father’s chest. Red koi fish thrash

him acting like a real father once in my life. Back when I was seven

around his arms as if fighting against a current. Cherry blossom

years old and still lived in Japan, the kids in my class bullied me con-

tattoos tumble down his back, and a fanged snake curls up his

stantly. They would steal my lunchbox and dump its contents around

spine. Every square inch of ink on my dad’s body is a threat. Tebori

the schoolyard. Each day, I jumped up and down with my hands over

tattoos are carved into their bearer’s skin with small spears and

my eyes and hollered until my face reddened. Once I was so hungry,

take hundreds of hours to complete. My dad endured days of pain

I picked grains of rice off the ground and chewed on them, trying to

just to decorate his body; inflicting suffering upon others came

ignore the grains of sand that crunched between my teeth. My teacher

to him naturally.

would always watch me wail after recess. Sometimes he’d even wince

60 THE VARSITY MAGAZINE

paid much. But my teacher had heard too many rumours of my father’s past. He demanded my dad show him the hand he was trying to hide.

My dad hesitated, but his face quickly turned purple. He yanked his hand out of his pocket and brandished it like a weapon. “Fine!” He screamed “I shouldn’t deny what I was, and if I ever go back to that, it’ll be because of people like you. You won’t let me be anything else!” My dad puffed out his chest, pulled back his collar and flashed the tattoo over his heart. “And you said it yourself — I’ll always be a Yakuza. So you’ll be dealing with a Yakuza if I ever see my daughter cry again.”

Not only did the bullies stop picking on me, but my grades also suddenly improved.

For Halloween that year I dressed up as my hero. I grabbed my magic markers and drew soaring dragons, roaring tigers, and rabid wolves all over my arms. When my mother saw my attempt at Tebori, her voice was shrill.

She hauled me into the shower, screaming that Yakuza were criminals and killers. I crossed my arms as water melted my tattoos away and told my mother she was wrong about the Yakuza because my daddy was one of them.

She immediately drove the back of her hand into my face, knocking me right off the bath stool. I stared up at my mother with my palm pressed to my tingling cheek.

She towered over me, her forehead as ribbed as a washboard. She had never hit me before, but her eyes showed no remorse. She struggled to keep her voice steady, and said she could never love my dad if he really was a Yakuza.

Not too long after that, my dad started working for his old boss again and my mom divorced him. My father will forever be a criminal — he has that written into his skin.

Tap! Tap! I reach into the hallway closet and shove the kimono back where it belongs: out of sight. I then stride to the front door. When my father phoned this morning to say he’d be coming over to my apartment for dinner, I felt a rush of blood to my head and nearly told him to get lost.

But I thought of him coming back from work to his empty house every single night and never seeing a warm meal waiting for him.

My father scratches his forehead as he enters the hallway, and a couple of greasy strands of hair straggle down his forehead. When we lived in Japan, his nickname was “Loan Shark,” but “Panda” would be a more suitable name for him now. His big belly spills out from beneath his chest at me, thinking I deserved to be bullied. He had heard rumours that my dad was a former Yakuza.

I’d walk home after school with my stomach as empty as my lunchbox. It kept happening until my older brother Sho found me curled up

and his dark eyes sink into his pale face.

“You alright? You look exhausted.”

My father nods and pushes his stringy black hair back over his pasty bald spot. “Where’s the food?”

and crying up in my bedroom. Sho wrapped an arm around me. He

I saunter over to the stove and set a bowl of soup onto the kitchen table.

made me tell him about the bullies and relayed the story to my father.

I had cooked enough for three people, but Sho refused to sit at the table

My dad threw on his kimono and sped to my school, his teeth

when he came home. I figured that was for the best anyways — he and

clenched the entire ride. He stormed into my teacher’s office, drag-

my dad would just be at each other’s throats if they were to eat together.

ging me behind him, his voice thundering like hailstones plummeting

“Have as much as you want, I’m not hungry,” I say. My father

onto a tin roof. He pointed at the exposed unmarked strip of skin on

smacks a tea cup onto the table and wipes his mouth with his sleeve.

his chest and shouted he was not a Yakuza. He claimed he didn’t have

“You need to come here more often.“

any tattoos and kept his three-fingered hand tucked in his pocket.

“I’m busy with work.”

My father told my teacher that he was living honestly. It was true at that time; my dad was working as a waiter and he wasn’t getting

“That’s no excuse. You can’t only decide to be my father when you have nothing better to do.”

FALL 2015 61

“I made sacrifices for you and your brother.”

I learned that Yakuza members were obligated to slice off a finger joint

“We only got bullied because of you!” My heart starts racing.

as an apology for failure. People were terrified of my father because of

“Everyone at school knew you were Yakuza, but they wouldn’t dare

his missing fingers. In fact, the Japanese public is so afraid of the Yakuza

touch you, so they came after your kids.”

that the children’s show Bob the Builder was nearly banned in Japan. Bob

“How can we accept you? You just keep blaming others!” My teacup slips out of my hand, spills onto the table. “I’ve had enough.” I turn and walk into the hallway.

My dad grabs me from behind and pushes me up against the closet door. “Don’t talk to me like that. I’m not the child here.”

“Let go!” I shout and try to break free of my father’s grip. “Get off of me!”

I hear a door swing open as my brother comes racing down the hallway.

He charges into my dad and the hallway closet crashes open. The closet rack comes tumbling down and all the clothes wind up on the ground.

only has 4 fingers on each hand, and the government was afraid that this would make children believe he was a gangster.

My dad glances at me and then takes a long look at the kimono. “I can’t believe you kept my old waiter uniform after all these years.”

“Of course I did… I looked up to you so much back then. Why the hell did you have to go back to being a gangster?”

“I’m a playboy not a busboy. I couldn’t spend my life emptying ashtrays and refilling teapots. That was the only work I could find in Japan when I quit the Yakuza.”

“But you don’t live there anymore. People here aren’t terrified of

“No! Get off of him!” I grab hold of Sho’s shoulders and try to pull

your missing fingers and tattoos.” I wipe my eyes with the back of my

him off my father, but he’s far too heavy. Sho shouts as he pins my dad

hands. “Why are you still involved with the Yakuza? I know you still

to the ground and holds a fist right above his face. “He always wants to

send money back to your Oyabun.”

use force to get his way. Why’d you let this jerk come into our home?”

“You deserve a father, but I can’t pretend to be one.” My father pulls

“He’s our father!”

on his old work uniform. The Tebori tattoos on his arms disappear

“No, he’s not. That’s what he pretends to be. He needs to leave.”

under the kimono’s sleeves.

“He can’t go yet.” I clench both my fists. “I need to settle things with him.”

My brother glares into my dad’s eyes, but eventually lowers his fist and climbs off of our father.

“If I hear you yell again, Mai... I’m kicking him out of here.”

He heads for the door and I know I may not see him again for months. I think back to the first time I can remember seeing him. When I was four years old, I told my mother there was a strange man sleeping in our house, and she laughed. She said the man was my father and he had always lived with

My dad used to beat Sho when he was a

us. He would leave for work each day before

teenager, but my brother got stronger as he

I woke up and only come back after I went

grew older and started hitting back. If Sho

to bed. Every night after I first saw him, I

didn’t move out of the house and get an

tried to stay up as long as I could, hoping

apartment with me, I think he might have killed my dad.

My father ignores the blood drib-

I’d finally meet my daddy. But I never seemed to be able to fight off sleep and it carried me off into dreams.

bling out of his nose and stares at

I didn’t learn of the terrible things

the kimono that has fallen out of

my father did until I got older. My

the closet along with all the oth-

drunken dad once crippled a man in a

er clothes. He snatches it off the

casino by slamming his head into a

ground then hobbles over to the

slot machine. He also owned a love

kitchen table. He manages to cradle

hotel linked to human traffick-

a soup bowl in his right hand al-

ing rings, and would hunt down

though it has no index or ring fin-

debtors like wounded animals.

ger. When I was young, my father

My daddy would demand endless

told me that a fish had bitten off

payments, and some of his victims

the two fingers. He claimed that

ended up taking their own lives.

the creature had been merciful.

I take a deep breath as I watch

The fish had supposedly spared

my dad leave my apartment clad in

the middle finger because he un-

his old work kimono. I remember be-

derstood that my father desper-

ing a child, sitting and shivering in

ately relied on it to flip people off.

the shower as my makeshift tattoos

“The Fish” turned out to be

disappeared. I now dream about the

the nickname of my dad’s Oy-

wild creatures inked into my father’s

abun. When I was eight years old,

skin being washed away.

62 THE VARSITY MAGAZINE

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