VICTORIA UNIVERSITY’S STUDENT NEWSPAPERVOLUME 58, ISSUE 11 - MARCH 29, 2016

cultural awareness can only go so far:the trials of being an international student

Page 8

a look inside uoft's faculty of music

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toronto's best study spaces: a survey

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Tiff's retrospective on Abbas kiarostami

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VUsac elections:winners and commentary

PAGE s 3, 7

our judicial structures are failing us

PAGE s 2, 6, 7

Can the cbc finally find its place on the internet?

PAGE 4

News • The Strand

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Free tuition: Too little, too late?Erin Calhoun | Associate News Editor

The 2016 Ontario budget promises free tuition for low-income families, in efforts to make post-secondary school more ac-cessible and affordable to a higher number of students. This promise of free tuition and larger grants, known as the Ontario Student Grant, will become available to students within Ontario in the 2017-2018 school year.

All students whose households make less than $83,000 per year can expect to see their mortgage-sized student debt become reduced. Under the new On-tario Student Grant, more than 50% of students from families with annual incomes of $83,000 or less will receive non-repayable grants that will cover the cost of a college or university education. In addition, students from families with incomes of $50,000 or less will receive non-repayable grants that will eliminate any provincial student debt, in amounts that will surpass the total of their tuition. The mission statement seems to be that all students will be the same or better off un-der the previous Ontario Tuition Grant.

The new Ontario Student Grant seems new, but is actually a compilation

of existing OSAP grants, funnelled into a single, more widely accessible grant. The OSG repurposes funding from the 30% Off Ontario Tuition Grant recently dis-tributed to students whose household in-come is less than $160,000. Recent receiv-ers of this grant worry about its continued existence alongside the OSG grant, but OSAP claims that no eligible student will receive an amount any less in a grant than they have re-cently received from the 30% Off Ontario Tuition Grant. OSAP will find their fund-ing from this grant within the OSG.

The purpose for creating this aid is to make post-secondary education more accessible and affordable to a larger por-tion of young Ontarians. By encouraging more students to attend post-secondary, the government is preparing more people for the workforce. In the future, a predict-ed 70% of new jobs will require higher education for training in specialized skills.

Resources also show that Ontarians with higher education and specialized skills have better employment prospects, earn higher wages, and have improved health.

What does this all mean to current students? With the 2015-2016 school year finishing up, students are still ex-pected to pay tuition without the OSG.

OSAP claims that the program cannot be in-troduced in the 2016-2017 year because it is a major redesign of the existing system and requires extensive time to make these changes. However, the OSAP application for

the 2016-2017 year is nearly finished and will be released in the next few months.

Students will have to continue with-out the OSG for another school year, but there seems to be no recognition of the situations of those who have graduated, or paid for several years of tuition and accumulated enormous student debt. Al-though the future seems bright for those entering post-secondary or continuing

their studies, to some this change in the budget may seem difficult and inconsid-erate. Third-year UofT student Saman-tha Stewart states that the timing of this program is “…inconvenient. I’ve already gone through three years of paying for my tuition and balancing OSAP, and [I’m] about to go through with my final year of studies. I would really like to see some recognition or consideration about my situation from OSAP.”

Adjusting the budget to encourage the upcoming generation to attend post-secondary school will increase enrolment rates and help create a more effective and purposeful workforce. Although it lacks any consideration for those who have already graduated, the new budget is a step in the right direction toward an af-fordable higher education, which has be-come direly needed in today’s competitive world.

Emily Pollock | Design Editor

Black Lives Matter Toronto protest still going strong

Black Lives Matter protesters have been camped out in front of Toronto Police Headquarters since March 20, after be-ing ejected from their earlier location at Nathan Phillips Square.

The protest was sparked by the Toronto Police Special Investigation Unit’s decision not to bring charges against the unnamed officer who killed Andrew Loku. Loku, who resided in an apartment complex for people liv-ing with mental illness, was shot by police during a dispute with one of his neighbours last summer. According to the SIU, one of the officers “felt threat-ened” by the fact that Loku was carry-ing a hammer, and shot him twice on the left side of the chest. While the po-lice say that Loku was told to drop the hammer he was carrying several times, a civilian eyewitness countered that they shot almost immediately upon seeing him. Robin Hicks, a neighbour and close friend of Loku’s, said, “I’m not talking five minutes, or two minutes. I’m talking seconds here. We didn’t get a word in.”

On March 19, the SIU ruled that the officer’s use of force against Loku was justifiable, and the Toronto chap-ter of the Black Lives Matter movement organized a protest in response.

The Black Lives Matter movement was created in 2012 in response to the death of Trayvon Martin and the ac-quittal of George Zimmerman, the man who killed him. According to their

manifesto, their aim is “broadening the conversation around state violence to include all of the ways in which Black people are intentionally left powerless at the hands of the state.” Since its in-ception, the group has focused their protests on the deaths of Black people at the hands of the legal system, and the systems that support these deaths.

In this particular case, Black Lives Matter Toronto has sent a set of de-mands to the City of Toronto. In particular, they are calling for more transparency and accountability in the death of Loku, an overhaul of the SIU in consultation with the Black com-munity and families of police violence, and a condemnation of the tactics used against the Black Lives Matter protest-ers in the past. Additionally, they are demanding an end to carding, the sys-tem of regulations that allows Toronto Police to stop, question, and document people without a specific offense, which often targets POC disproportionately.

Although the protests have been peaceful, they have faced backlash from the Toronto police. On the night of March 21, the police raided the pro-testers’ encampment, putting out their fires and tearing down their tents. Rab-bia Ashraf, one of the protesters, says that police “were pushing people, they were shoving people, they were throw-ing people to the ground and tram-pling them.” The Toronto Police say that they used minimal force to remove

what they say were unlawful structures.Despite the police actions and the

cold, wet weather, the BLM protesters have remained in front of Toronto Po-lice Headquarters. They have been us-ing social media as an organizing plat-form, recruiting donations, food and warm clothing for the protestors under the hashtag #BLMTOtentcity. As of

publication, the protest is ongoing.As Pascale Diverlus, co-founder of

Toronto’s BLM chapter, said, “We will continue to fight until they understand that our lives do, have always, and will always matter.”

Activists and supporters continue weeklong protest in response to the decision not to charge the officer who killed Andrew Loku

Illustration | Wikimedia Commons

In the future, a pre-dicted 70% of new jobs will require higher education for training in specialized skills.

Early this March, Victoria College stu-dents flooded Roy Thomson Hall for Highball, VUSAC’s annual formal event. While many ticketholders recycled an old prom dress or splurged on a new one, an-other trend surfaced: renting a dress from Common Thread. Founded in November and still awaiting their official launch, Common Thread is a peer-to-peer dress rental program organized by students from Victoria College. The group is cur-rently not affiliated with the University of Toronto, and has taken shape under founder Lucinda Qu and her team of six executives. Common Thread is still very much in its early days, but after the suc-cess of their first pop-up shop they will be looking to grow the operation to involve more volunteer and organizer positions, along with expanding to high school and other university campuses across the To-ronto region.

From February 29 to March 3, Com-mon Thread set up a pop-up shop in the VUSAC offices in the Goldring Student Center, catching the attention of students

across the University of Toronto campus. Most of the renters were students from Victoria College for events such as the Gardiner Gala and Highball, while oth-ers from St. Michael’s College and the law school also took advantage of the service for their respective formal events. With over 100 dresses in their collection currently, the pop-up shop at-tracted over 30 renters in their four-day period of operation. Execu-tive member Artemis Ghahremani explains that the collection is aimed to appeal to a va-riety of sizes and styles: “Common Thread is very much focused on equity; we’re not targeting size 2 petite women. We have dresses in every size and make sure we’re accessible to everyone, which is really important and can be over-looked easily.”

Common Thread functions as a plat-

form to connect lenders. “We drew in-spiration from apps such as Airbnb and Uber; the idea of taking something that’s already yours and using the app to con-nect with someone who needs it,” says Ghahremani. A Common Thread app is on the drawing board for the future,

but for now they’re ex-perimenting with the pop-up shop format, where students can browse racks of the Common Thread col-lection and check out a dress for the reason-able fee of 10% of the piece’s original pur-chase price. This cov-ers a week’s rental, and typically costs renters

between $5 and $12. “What’s great about Common Thread is it’s not so much about the designer or how much you paid for it, but expressing your personal style, being able to switch it up,” says Ghahremani. “It’s really important with style trends

that are constantly changing to express your individuality, and you shouldn’t have to have crazy amounts of money to do that.” The service also benefits those who want to rent out their dresses; as a lender, they receive a portion of the profit in return, along with the knowledge that their clothing isn’t simply collecting dust in their closet.

There is no hard date for the launch for Common Thread, and plans for what will follow the initial success of the pop-up shop are still being developed, though the group hopes to have a finished web-site or app out by September 2016. In the meantime, you can follow them on their Facebook and Instagram pages, or browse their look book on their website listed be-low.

Facebook: www.facebook.com/commonthreadto

Instagram: @commonthreadto

Website: www.common-thread.ca

News • The Strand

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Fashion and financial freedom:Common Thread’s pop-up shop success Adele Keyes | Associate News Editor

Erik Preston | Staff Reporter

New VUSAC Board Announced for 2016-2017 School Year logue around the issue. All candidates have

expressed disappointment in the absence of an electable Equity Commissioner, and hope to work to appoint someone to fill the position until an election can be held in the fall.

Many students felt that the campaign took a personal turn toward the end, as vari-ous posts on social media were seemingly aimed at certain candidates in a negative manner. In one of these posts, Christoffer-sen criticized presidential candidate Chris Knipe for appropriating the language of equity to support his campaign goals with-out actually addressing the issues at hand. Both of these posts drew criticism, as many students felt upset both about the personal direction that the campaign had taken, and about the use of equity topics as campaign pieces.

As Victoria College student Laurent-Philippe Veilleux put it, “It’s disappointing to see the personal turn that the presiden-tial race in the VUSAC elections has tak-en. An important point of differentiation which has long separated VUSAC from the

UTSU elections was that the forum of dis-cussion was limited to issues and candidates’ platforms rather than going negative about other candidates.”

With the campaign now over, the new-ly elected council is ready to hit the ground running and begin to fulfill their mandate. “We’re very excited to begin our work with the new council,” said Co-President-elect Stuart Norton. “There is a lot to be done, with the most pressing concern being how we integrate Commuter and Equity portfo-lios without those elected Commissioners.”

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“Common Thread is very much focused on equity; we’re not targeting size 2 petite women. We have dresses in every size and make sure we’re accessi-ble to everyone, which is really important and can be overlooked easily.”

Official results for the 2016 VUSAC Elec-tions were posted on Friday, concluding what has been an interesting and at times controversial election season. Rahul Christ-offersen and Stuart Norton were elected Co-Presidents with 312 votes, achieving a 66% share of the vote.

Steve Warner was elected Vice-President, External, along with Golda Greenspoon as Vice-President, Internal and Hannah Brennan as Vice-President, Stu-dent Organizations, who, together with the Co-Presidents comprise the judiciary of the 2016-17 VUSAC Board.

The new judiciary brings a wide vari-ety of experience to the new council, both from previous VUSAC positions and from other student governments. Warner served as Vic’s UTSU rep over the past year, while Norton, Christoffersen, Greenspoon, and Brennan all served in a variety of positions

on VUSAC. The newly elected Council ran on plat-

forms largely related to the streamlining of VUSAC functions and working to make VUSAC more accessible and approachable to students and organizations alike.

In a previous interview with The Strand, Norton and Christoffersen said they intend-ed to begin their tenure as co-presidents by appointing an interim Equity Commission-er, a position that had no candidates in the election. “I don’t want to go a full summer without an Equity Commissioner,” Christ-offersen said. “We are both very conscious that we are both cisgender, male, [and] white [or] mixed-race students. We want to be able to engage with equity issues both as allies and student leaders.”

Equity was a contentious topic in the election, with the absence of a candidate for the position resulting in a great deal of dia-

Find the full re-sults, including vote splits, on our website at thestrand.ca

Opinions • The Strand

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The CBC is finding its place in the digital ageOlivia Dziwak | Opinions Editor

Hockey, politeness, quaffing Tim’s, and a smug sense of multiculturalism. This list of beloved and familiar national past-timespas-times should be updated to include issuing opinions on the future CBC, on how it should update itself to remain a current and viable national public broadcaster and how, in essence, it can live up to “Canada Lives Here.” The national discussion on the future of the CBC has been reawakened with re-newed fervour this year, in light of a new fed-eral government and promises of increased funding in a faltering media landscape.

During last year’s federal election, the Liberal party ran on with a campaign prom-ise of increased funding for the CBC, re-stored after a decade of Conservative rule saw the CBC’sits budgets and holdings slashed time and again. Last week, the fed-eral budget revealed that the Liberals are making good on their promise in the form of $675 million going to the CBC over the next five years, as part of a $1.9 billion total investment into in the arts.

Speculation on what the CBC will do with this money began long before the amount was announced, and the conversa-tion has had much to do with the sorry state of legacy media today. Canada’s Heritage Minister, Mélanie Joly, suggested in an inter-view with Q that the CBC needs to adapt as well to the digital age as it did to the new technologies of radio and television in the 1930s and 1950s, respectively. Joly cited

Vice< as a potential example for the CBC to emulate, praising their risk taking in regards to content and approach to “different sub-jects in a different manner.”

Canadaland’s media-critic host, Jesse Brown, was stayed true to his nature and was critical of much many of thisthese recent de-velopments.; Iin conversation with National Post’s Jen Gerson, Brown criticized the CBC for not identifying its strengths and reorient-ing itself accordingly before this point, miss-ing chances to use failures as springboards for reorientation and renewal. Equally criticized was the idea Brown also criticized the idea of using Vice as a model—the Canadaland segment fixated on CBC-unsuitable Vice content like “cat porn” which, for all of Vice’s virtues and successes in new media journal-ism, still remains one of its key offerings.

The CBC itself, however, might not scoff at this potential model as hard as Brown does. It has dipped its toes into the waters of mMillennial-aimed digital me-dia by sponsoring Buzzfeed listicles like “22 CBC Shows Every Canadian Needs In Their Life,”, under the “loveCBC” brand. The in-fluence, however, goes both ways, and pieces like “12 ways you know you’re a Calgarian” have graced CBC News’s own front page. This, perhaps, is what Joly meant by “dif-ferent subjects in a different manner,” and can certainly be interpreted as an attempt to generate content that is well suited—and unique to—the digital platform.

It does, however, prompt the question of whether this is the right direction for the CBC, whether integrating and emulating digital-native media platforms like Buzzfeed and Vice will be the winning strategy for bringing the CBC into the digital age. Brown certainly disagrees with this tactic, suggesting instead that the CBC should fo-cus exclusively on news. He also argues that their commitment to quality reporting is especially valuable in light of the folding of many smaller news outlets, which can leave remote communities with CBC as their only source of news. The cash infusion being pro-vided by the government will no doubtlikely influence incline the CBC to look favour-ably upon suggestions like those offered by Joly, but so far even those suggestions have fallen short of providing a true vision for a revitalized CBC.

At the heart of this debate is the digital platform and its inevitable association with youth who, accurately or not, are seen as its natural occupants and, therefore, must be pandered to in order to achieve success on the Iinternet. At odds with the CBC’s cur-rent key audience demographics, which skew heavily towards the latter end of 25 to 55 years of age, a focus on creating content intended for young people could backfire and place it in the realm of legacy media who foolishly rush in to engage with new technology, not realizing it’s already outdated by the time they get there; the Toronto Star’s

awkward venture into a tablet version of the paper exemplifies this.

Exactly how the CBC can most ef-fectively bring its core qualities to the digi-tal sphere is a question that has yet to find compelling answers. The injection of fed-eral money makes the question all the more pressing. but, wWith any luck, however, it will also give the CBC a moment of easy breathing, and the luxury of a stable financial platform from which to launch experiments and explorations, finally allowing them to find their new home in the digital age.

With exam season fast approaching, many of us are beginning to mentally prepare for all-nighters and frantic cram sessions. But studying can be a little more enjoyable if you have a great place to do it, and To-ronto is full of cozy nooks, beautiful librar-ies, and quaint cafés. So, we asked Vic stu-dents to tell us about their favourite study spots on and around the UofT campus.

Hart House LibraryNicole Paroyan Hart House Library is by far my favou-rite spot to study on campus. It’s a small room with a beautiful table and lots of big windows. During the warmer months, they often leave the windows open, which makes for a super relaxing studying vibe. Plus, if you’re hungry, you can go down-stairs to Sammy’s to grab a bite to eat.

Emmanuel College LibraryCarey Roach For many of us, part of the reason behind choosing UofT was the school’s strong re-semblance to Hogwarts. The Emmanuel College library is certainly proof of this; elaborate chandeliers and long wooden tables make it the perfect place to channel my inner Hermione Granger. The huge windows also let in an absurd amount of sunshine, making it easier to pretend I’m outside on sunny days, instead of stuck in-side writing essays. Quiet and surprisingly uncrowded, Emmanuel is my absolute fa-vourite study space on campus.

Goldring Student CentreAdele Keyes One of my favourite study spots is in the Goldring Student Centre, in the quiet

study lounge on the third floor. The study lounge has large windows that overlook Charles St West.

Voodoo ChildJustine Hamilton-Arvisais Just a short walk down College St from the main campus, Voodoo Child is an at-mospheric, moody nook decorated as if a sort of 1920s speakeasy married the quint-essential Toronto coffee bar. For all poets writing their “Prelude,” playwrights with a Hamlet on their hands, or perhaps UofT students in the midst of exams, this café provides a quirky spot to spend an after-

noon. Choose a rich espresso served on a plank alongside a seltzer in a little cup shaped like a skull, or perhaps one of Voo-doo Child’s signature drinks for those 19+ patrons—a “Bearded Barista” or “Sazerac” might wet your whistle. Whatever your drink, any visitors to this College St staple will find themselves enchanted by the ex-cellent music and cheered on by the oh-so-friendly baristas.

Pratt, JCR, and LaidlawOlivia DziwakMy favourite place to study is, to be en-tirely honest, determined by a lot of non-

academic considerations. If I need to eat while I study, there’s no beating the base-ment lounge of EJ Pratt, with its many armchairs and huge window view onto Burwash. If I’m feeling the need to be sur-rounded by people, the Junior Common Room at University College is a great space with a great atmosphere (and the couches are also great for napping!). And if I ac-tually need to buckle down and get stuff done, Laidlaw’s cubbies offer isolation and silence, while the long wall of windows of-fer enough sunlight to give you the will to go on.

Illustration | Seolim Hong

Some of Toronto’s best study spaces

Illustration | Seolim Hong

Carey Roach | Staff Reporter

Opinions • The Strand

5

Making a bee-line for the back of the pet store, I spotted the puppies sleeping in their newspaper-strewn areas, with litters separated by small glass walls. When I saw one particularly cute chocolate-brown ball of fur, I asked to hold him, and in-stantly fell in love with a puppy who was tiny, cuddly, and fit in one hand. Hogan is a cockapoo, one of today’s designer breeds, with a tiny body that makes him very portable and easy to manage. On his first night home, when a harmless blue-berry dropped to the floor in the kitchen, he instantly jumped and scampered away.

While time improved his social skills, his timidity would prevent him from fending for himself if he were ever lost.

My family and I didn’t instantly no-tice the missing tail, the fragility of his stature and his vulnerability. We just played and cuddled and became best friends with him, enjoying the fact that he fit nicely on our laps. Later, my brothers and I joked about his stump of a tail, but with time it became a real concern. The vet determined that his tail was cropped too short, and that the procedure which removed it would have been not only

painful, but also damaging. She explained that some breeders of small dogs remove the tail using toenail clippers or scissors, and that the unnecessary surgery was done “to maintain an unnecessary breed-appearance standard.” While the cruelty behind his missing tail was upsetting, it brought to light an important injustice.

Our need to create the perfect pet causes us to disregard an animal’s inher-ent qualities and instincts, and instead we often view them as possessions—as almost toy-like, rather than spirited, liv-ing animals. In order to achieve a play-

ful and obedient pet like Hogan, breeders favour traits in dogs that will make them less aggressive. As Ádám Miklósi said in his book, Dog Behaviour, Evolution, and Cognition, “an ideal dog is small and looks childish with a short nose and large eyes. It is docile and tame and shows a tendency for submission.” These genetic selections facilitate the integration of do-mesticated dogs into human families, but also inhibit their ability to survive inde-pendently. Additionally, these selected traits can pose health risks to dogs, as an unusual eye size can cause eye deteriora-tion, and a flat face can restrict breathing.

Domesticated dogs that do not fulfill breeder expectations may undergo sur-geries that also cause health problems. An article published in the Journal of the American Veterinary Medical Asso-ciation explained that dogs and cats are put through unnecessary surgeries, due to traditions born of ignorance, rather than facts. For example, the tails and ears of hunting or fighting dogs were cropped to reduce their risk of infection, a process known as “tail docking”, as in some cases people thought removing the tails would reduce the risk of rabies. Since dog fight-ing is both illegal and cruel, and since an animal’s risk of rabies depends upon its exposure to other infected animals, the cropping of tails has no real purpose. In-stead, these surgeries have increased the health risks of dogs and hampered their ability to communicate by altering their ears and tails.

Although domesticated dogs living with humans benefit from shelter, food, and water provisions, their health prob-lems may outweigh the benefits. In order to alleviate genetic health problems, hu-mans should treat animals better by do-ing away with the outdated practice of needless surgeries. Likewise, those adopt-ing new pets should opt out of any un-necessary procedures that could threaten an animal’s welfare.

No tail, no reasonGenevieve Wakutz | Photo Editor

Lack of transparency in healthcare system unacceptable

Canadians are known around the world by our fiercely defended stereotypes—we’re just a bunch of hockey-loving, Tim Hortons-swigging, polar bear-riding, igloo-dwelling folk with a great health-care system. But we know better—none of those things are black and white. Our national sport isn’t even just hockey, it’s also lacrosse! And our healthcare, despite popular belief, isn’t always as great as it sounds.

Canadian healthcare has been un-der fire recently, as complaints of with-holding information under the Qual-ity of Care Information Protection Act (QCIPA) have been steadily rising. What started out as a way to protect the privacy rights of hospitals has since been used under unethical circumstances. Hospitals are hiding behind the QCIPA to protect themselves against the threat of grieving families after mistakes that they should be held accountable for.

The act was first passed in 2004, in an effort to keep in-hospital investigations confidential, and allow health-care pro-fessionals to divulge information at their discretion so as not to be threatened with

a court case. It was intended only to be used in the most serious cases, but institu-tions like St. Joseph’s and the University Health Network swear by the QCIPA.

If Canada really is as free and accept-ing as our neighbouring countries believe it to be, there should be no secrecy in our health-care system, its policies, or cor-rective actions taken when things don’t go as planned.

In one case, a woman named Pamela Minocha was admit-ted to St. Joseph’s Hos-pital in Toronto for pain in her tooth, and was pronounced dead seven hours later. Her parents and brother were informed of her death upon arrival, but given no further information under the act. Not only is the hospital’s reluctance to involve family in patient care a telling sign about their handiwork, it also suggests refusal to cor-rect their mistakes.

At Brampton Civic Hospital, a man named Prashant Tiwari, who was stay-ing in the psychiatric ward, hung himself while staff members were allegedly at a potluck. In this case as well, it took the hospital 15 days to get back to Tiwari’s family, who were given limited infor-

mation regarding his death under the QCI-PA.

Such negligence speaks volumes about the priorities of our current health-care system. With an act like this put in place, what we’re essen-tially saying is that a patient’s well-being comes second to the hospital’s reputation.

Both aforemen-tioned cases lead to lawsuits for the hos-pitals in question, something that the act was put in place to avoid. It seems that cases like these aren’t just detrimental to a patient’s family but also to the institution and the system itself. When hospitals hide

the contents of their investigative reports, they’re not only hiding them from family but also from other hospitals, increasing the likelihood that errors will be repeated elsewhere.

In light of these events, a review com-mittee is considering standardised use of the act across the province. Other pos-sible revisions include increasing fines for offences, reaffirming the rights of the patients and their families to information on corrective actions to be taken, and re-viewing the act every five years to ensure it is not being abused.

Changes like these could greatly im-prove the current system and the trend of decreasing trust in our healthcare provid-ers. If we can increase transparency with amendments to the QCIPA act, we may still have the right to boast about our health-care system that millions depend on so heavily.

Anchal Sharma | Contributor, The Fulcrum

Photography | Genevieve Wakutz

Not only is the hospital’s reluctance to involve family in patient care a telling sign about their handiwork, it also suggests refusal to correct their mistakes.

OUR MASTHEAD

The Strand has been the newspaper of record for Victoria University since 1953. It is published 12 times a year with a circulation of 2000 and is dis-tributed in Victoria University buildings and across the University of Toronto’s St. George campus.

The Strand flagrantly enjoys its editorial autonomy and is committed to acting as an agent of con-structive social change. As such, we will not pub-lish material deemed to exhibit racism, sexism, homo/transphobia, ableism, or other oppressive language.

The Strand is a proud member of the Canadian University Press (CUP).

Our offices are located at 150 Charles St. W., Toronto, ON, M5S 1K9. Please direct enquiries by email to editor@thestrand.ca. Submissions are welcome and may be edited for taste, brevity, and legality.

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Anthony BurtonRhianna Jackson-KelsoHolly McKenzie-Sutter

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news@thestrand.ca

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editors-iN-ChieF editor@thestrand.ca

Olivia DziwakopiNioNsopinions@thestrand.ca

Geoff BaillieClaire Wilkins

Clarrie Feinsteinarts & Cultureartsandculture@thestrand.ca

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CoNtributors

Erin Calhoun, Ariana Douglas, Olivia Dziwak, Arika Jiang, Molly Kay, Ryan Kay, Ammar Keshioda, Adele Keyes, Sean Kudryk, Kody McCann, Andrew Nevin, Tamilore Oshodi, Emily Pollock, Erik Preston, Carey Roach, Philip Rus-sell, Adina Samuels, Anchal Sharma, Yimeng Sun, Sara Truuvert, Genevieve Wakutz

CoNtributors

Amanda Ghazale Aziz, Alexandra Jones, Sa-brina Papas

illustratioNs

Seolim Hong, Yasmine Shelton

photos

Rusaba Alam, Rhianna Jackson-Kelso, Molly Kay, Genevieve Wakutz

Cover photography

Genevieve Wakutz

Genevieve Wakutzphotophoto@thestrand.ca

Seolim Hongartart@thestrand.ca

Emily PollockGrace Quinsey

desigNdesign@thestrand.ca

editorial assistaNts Joshua KimTanuj KumarAinsley MacDougallTristan McGrath-WaughTamilore OshodiAlison Zhou

Kasra Koushanwebweb@thestrand.ca

6

Let’s say that it’s been a tough few weeks. Especially in Toronto, where issues surrounding marginalized voices silenced by the system have been very close to the sur-face. After an investigation spanning several months, it was announced on March 18 that the anonymous police officer responsible for the death of 45-year-old Andrew Loku would not be facing any criminal charges. On March 24, after a trial spanning nearly two months, Jian Ghomeshi was found not guilty on all charges. While the latter has been given extensive media coverage since Ghomeshi’s dismissal from the CBC in October 2014, the dialogue has not focused on the perspectives or voices of the complainants. Coverage of Loku’s murder has—unfortunately but not unsurprisingly, given the media’s shameful track record regarding news coverage concern-ing violence against people of colour—not been nearly so consistent or abundant.

Too often, the voices of victims and survivors are denied a platform and ultimately silenced at a legal level by a system designed to maintain the oppression of marginalized groups. In such circumstances, peaceful protests and rallies can function as a powerful way to amplify these voices. This week, the citizen response to the aforementioned rulings has been overwhelming, and has served to increase media coverage of these systemic injustices. It’s also managed to foster a sense of solidarity that spans multiple and connecting communities.

The Toronto coalition of the activist group Black Lives Matter (BLMTO) has been occupying the area in front of Toronto Police Headquarters in peaceful protest since March 21. The movement began on March 20 in Nathan Phillips Square, in response to the announce-ment Andrew Loku’s murderer had been cleared of any legal wrongdoing. The protest has since garnered support from members of the Indigenous, LGBT+, and Muslim communities. The occupation has continued undeterred despite violent opposition by Toronto police officers.

Likewise, on March 24, Torontonians gathered in front of Old City Hall for a rally under the moniker of “We Believe Survivors” in response to the Ghomeshi ver-dict earlier that day. Despite the freezing temperatures and persistent, cold rain, hundreds of people attended the rally. Those who spoke included Lucy DeCoutere, the only named complainant in the Ghomeshi case; “Witness 1,” the first woman to level sexual assault al-legations at Ghomeshi and whose name remains under publication ban; Arij Elmi, an instructor of Wen-Do, a form of self-defense developed for women; City Coun-cillor Krystin Wong-Tam; and Glen Canning, the father of Rehtaeh Parsons.

I joined the growing crowd in front of City Hall around 5:30 PM. Immediately I noticed the strong sense of shared injustice and, more importantly, deter-mination in the atmosphere around me. As the rally’s organizers led stretching exercises to help everyone shake the cold, I heard many of the women standing around me exchange words of grief, anger, and disappointment with regards to the verdict. One woman, half laughingly embarrassed and half defeated, mentioned that she was on her fifth spurt of angry crying of the day. Organiz-ers urged attendees to promote the event on social me-dia under the hashtags #IBelieveSurvivors and #WeBe-lieveSurvivors, and throughout the hour that followed, countless phones could be seen held up to record and later share the words of the speakers.

The words of the speakers were powerful and in-vigorating. Overall, the messages were hopeful but not

complacent, and many of them were rightfully angry; every speaker acknowledged the immense deficits in how the current system treats victims and survivors and made strong calls for change. However, the most powerful speeches, for me, were those made by the two complainants in attendance. Both DeCoutere and Wit-ness 1 seemed simultaneously touched and gutted; over-whelmed by the outpouring of support but obviously and understandably still reeling from the verdict. De-Coutere called the trial and succeeding rally “phase one of a conversation,” noting that “this is something that is not going to end here.” Witness 1 took a similar stance, saying, “I am so touched that you all came. It means a lot. I love you all for coming, and I give you all consent to love me back. […] But it’s really not over. It’s really just begun for me. It’s now time to keep these conversa-tions going and stop the way that these sexual assaults are tried. It’s barbaric. It’s antiquated. It needs to change and it needs to stop.”

At around 6:30 PM, the group began a march up Bay St, to join the Black Lives Matter protest—promot-ed on social media with the hashtags #BLMTOtentc-ity, #BLMTO, and #BlackLivesMatter—at the Toronto Police Headquarters at 40 College St. The group met the often surprised glances of passersby with chants of “We believe survivors” and “Join together, free our lives, we will not be victimized,” and urged passing cars to honk in support. By around 7 PM the “We Believe Survivors” rally had fully merged with the Black Lives Matter protestors in the front courtyard of the Toronto Police Headquarters. Representatives from both move-ments—including female speakers from the “We Believe Survivors” rally and several Black women who have been instrumental in organizing and maintaining the BLM-TO movement—then spoke about the importance of in-tersectionality when discussing victims and survivors of sexual violence. These experiences affect disabled, trans, gay, and racialized people disproportionately to, and in different ways than, the cisgender white women who are so often the focus of media coverage and discourse—a topic that had only been touched on by one of the speak-ers from the “We Believe Survivors” rally.

This merging of these two prominent dialogues rein-forced just how little our justice system does to protect marginalized individuals, as well as how important it is that we, as a society, keep demanding that the struggles of these individuals be heard as a response to this lack of protection. Showing solidarity by attending the rally, lis-tening to the voices of the women involved, and sharing their words on social media felt incredibly important. Despite the adversity these groups do and will continue to face, all of this felt productive.

Watching as the leaders of the Black Lives Matter protest led the newcomers from the “We Believe Survi-vors” rally in chants of “No justice, no peace, no racist police” and “Black/Muslim/Trans/Queer lives matter,” and as the members of each movement shared ponchos and hand-warming packets between them to fight off the wet and cold, I gained a sense of powerful intercom-munity love and support. This atmosphere of solidarity amongst both groups of protestors illustrated the true strength of intersectional support in fighting oppressive legal structures and gaining traction for oppressed voic-es. Ultimately, while the system continues to fails us, it’s crucial that marginalized groups and their allies support, listen to, and demand an audience for one another.

Survivors refusing to be silenced

Rhianna Jackson-Kelso | Editor-in-Chief

#WeBelieveSurvivors and #BLMTOtentcity demonstrate just how much our justice systems have to answer for

Photography | Rhianna Jackson-Kelso

Editorial • The Strand

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This past Thursday, March 24, showed the acquittal of Jian Ghomeshi on all charges of sexual assault and overcoming resistance by choking.

The discussion surrounding the verdict has focused on the power of words. Judge Horkins’s comments have been criticized as discouraging future survivors of sexual as-sault from coming forward with allegations. Judge Horkins suggested that a photograph-ic memory and an absence of “odd” behav-ior in the wake of an assault is necessary for a conviction within our justice system—a term the judge used to categorize the wit-ness’ behaviour for emailing the defendant after the assault took place. The three com-plainants in the case have been alternately praised and vilified in the media for speak-ing about their experiences and on behalf of other survivors. In the wake of the trial, there has been positive usage of words on social media, with the hashtags #IBelieve-Survivors and #WeBelieveSurvivors rallying support behind the witnesses in the trial and the many silent survivors of assault who had to relieve their trauma by the verdict.

A Mainstreet/Postmedia poll of 2,017 Toronto residents taken on Thursday indi-cated that 53% of those surveyed disagreed with the judge’s decision to acquit Ghome-shi. The crowd that turned out for Thurs-day’s rally at Old City Hall, and number of social media posts claiming support for sur-

vivors seem to corroborate this data.Why, then, do one in four Canadian

women experience sexual assault in their lifetime, and why do 97% of sexual assaults in this country go unreported? Why does the court indict and convict only 3% of at-tackers?

Why did women quit their jobs at Q after reporting Ghomeshi’s violent tenden-cies, and why had they received no assistance from superiors? Why did professors at West-ern University and Ryerson University have to stop sending interns to Q after Ghomeshi repeatedly behaved inappropriately toward students? Why had the media community in Canada actively choose to paint Ghome-shi as a womaniser with more than “aggres-sive” tendencies? And why did all this infor-mation come to light after a male reporter, Canadaland’s Jesse Brown, broke this story in an investigative piece for the Toronto Star?

These are the questions we should be asking, rather than why a woman would send a flirty email to Ghomeshi after he punched her in the head, or say at one point that she was wearing hair extensions and then, at another point, that she wasn’t, as much of the judge’s verdict questioned.

Yes, our justice system is flawed. As Judge Horkins’s comments on Thursday illustrated, the testimony of witnesses in sexual assault cases—which are often per-sonal, complicated, and lacking in concrete

evidence aside from testimony—are not enough to prove that someone was abusive. The court does not have systems in place to recognize how trauma impacts memory, of-ten resulting in victims taking a long time to come forward and to process what has hap-pened to them. Let alone, the court does not have a system that recognises abuse, and re-fuses to consider why a victim would be un-der such a mindset to keep in contact with an assailant, as was the case that played out in the Ghomeshi trial.

But something else is flawed, and it is our culture of silence surrounding violence against women—not as victims, but as wit-nesses, bystanders, and enablers. Powerful people in Ghomeshi’s workplace were aware of his actions as well, and yet were aware of his reputation as a celebrity, something that Judge Horkins commented on as a factor that attracted all three women to him in their initial interactions. This case’s com-mentary on our culture surrounding sexual assault is largely about what people are not saying when confronted with sexual violence on a regular basis.

The women who testified against Gho-meshi were incredibly brave to take the stand against him, as were the 20 others who spoke about their abusive experiences with him but did not have enough evidence to consider building the case.

There are also many survivors of sexual

assault who are too traumatised to speak about their assaults, or who simply cannot due to social positionality, racial and sexual identity, or any combination of these fac-tors. There are plenty of victims who will never have the chance to speak about their experiences, because not all victims of sexual assault are survivors. Many of these victims have other factors stacked against them con-tributing to their silence—such as missing and murdered Indigenous women, an ongo-ing epidemic in our country, which is largely met, again and again, with silence. These women, both criminally underrepresented and erased in our justice system and our re-porting, must have a platform for their ex-periences, not just the victims who are able to speak to their experiences either publicly or privately.

As Judge Horkins proved on Thursday, there is a huge power in words, but the bur-den of preventing future assaults should not be the victim’s responsibility to retell a per-fect story, or to tell a story at all, as many are unable to. The burden to prevent future assaults must be placed on those in positions of power to call violent behaviour what it is—be it harassment, assault, or abuse—as they witness it, because contributing to a culture of silence on this topic only serves to create more victims and enable more preda-tors.

Ghomeshi verdict reminds us of the power of words It’s time to wake up to the culture of silence surrounding abuse that enabled himHolly McKenzie-Sutter | Editor-in-Chief

This was the year that things got personal.In a Facebook post on Tuesday eve-

ning, VUSAC co-presidential candidate Rahul Christoffersen accused opponent Chris Knipe of “appropriating the language of equity and representation” that featured prominently in his and running-mate Stu-art Norton’s platform. Knipe’s original post reiterated his claim that VUSAC doesn’t do a good enough job representing student in-terests, but it changed the source of this lack of representation from the insular nature of VUSAC that he’d been criticizing through-out his campaign to the lack of diversity on the judiciary.

The exact content of the post isn’t what I’m trying to document here. What Tues-day’s back-and-forth between Knipe and Christoffersen represented was the boiling over of tensions that dominated the week-long race. Knipe’s post, made on the eve of the final voting day, was just the inevitable combination of his antiestablishment stance and the equity-based rhetoric that slowly took over the campaign: Vic students not being represented by VUSAC wasn’t just a programming issue, but an equity one.

An informed reader will have realized by now that I haven’t brought up any men-tion of how Knipe’s post outlined solutions to these problems. That’s because, with the exception of a census, there weren’t any. In-stead, the post was a good example of how many candidates in this election diagnosed a host of problems in VUSAC and offered abstract restructuring as the cure-all. But ab-stract it remained: the list of concrete poli-cies proposed to make this change happen started short and stayed short.

The sense that VUSAC could be doing more for students can’t be resolved by sim-ply acknowledging the presence of struc-tural problems. When you promise “better

representation” without taking the time to think about how you would actually achieve it, you create the erroneous impression that the system is not working anything like it should. This impression does a disservice to both students and the candidates who cre-ate it.

It’s not that VUSAC is a lost cause, for-ever serving as nothing more than a glass-doored bubble. It can be a source for good, and we’ve seen it in some of the things that the council has done: this year’s mental health and sexual violence focus groups, which played an effective part in the battle for real change in administrative policy

that’s currently happening on campus; the work to make Highball more accessible and truly formal; inclusive fundraisers for home-less LGBT+ youth. But these are all tangible events that occurred over the course of the year, elements of a portfolio that directly af-fect Vic students and those outside of the College.

Some may claim that this year was a re-construction year, and not indicative of what VUSAC is capable of doing. This is true, but only to a degree—it doesn’t take twelve months for an organization that’s open 9 to 5, Monday to Friday, to build itself back up from some certain disaster. And even if it was, much of what VUSAC accomplished

this year was outlined in the platforms of the candidates who ran for their positions. None of the platforms were based much around the structure of VUSAC (save for Vice-President Internal, but that’s literally their job). By focusing on what they could do for students, they didn’t foster a sense of dissatisfaction by setting up unrealistic goals for themselves. They aimed for the opposite.

So there’s a paradox that arises from making a perceived problem with VUSAC the crux of a campaign, and that’s the lofty expectations you set yourself up with. If you spend too much time diagnosing a problem, then you have less time to actually solve that

problem when you step into office. This leaves students doubly disappointed: the change they were promised doesn’t come, and the programming that they’re used to, that nobody even campaigns on anymore, is one of the casualties of this half-step. It’s much easier to demolish a house than build one.

I keep thinking back to a question that VPSO-elect Hannah Brennen asked near the end of the Town Hall. “There’s not very many people here right now, and barely any-body watching on the live stream,” she said with the tone of somebody who just realized their illness was terminal. “How do you re-ally plan to get more students to care about

student politics?”The better question is, why should

more students care about student politics? Is caring more about student politics spend-ing five hours sitting in NF 003 watching people debate their conception of the ideal structure of VUSAC?

I have hope for VUSAC, and you should too. Knipe’s candidacy raised the very real question of what more the council can do for students, and Christoffersen’s en-gagement on that Tuesday evening proved, if anything, that Knipe’s concerns have be-come a real issue. But VUSAC is a union representing some 3000 students, many of whom never set foot on Vic campus and are also represented by the UTSU. We need to keep in mind what we can expect from it.

“Collaborating” with other campus groups, “integrating” organizations with the students of Vic, “representing” students’ interests and identities—these are all the ex-act things that a student union should do. But these are things that should come from the regular interactions that students need to have with their student union. They’re ultimately just byproducts, and that’s why, when used the way that they were this year, they were empty buzzwords. By overstating the need for VUSAC to change, you run the risk of overstating VUSAC’s jurisdiction, and all that manages to do is leave people disappointed about something that’s outside the realm of possibility.

A more diverse council and a strong fo-cus on equity issues, especially at a college that’s as white as Vic, are the best way to en-sure that students are properly represented. But it’s doing a disservice to what VUSAC can actually do for who it represents—from both an equity and a student body perspec-tive—to promise this representation before telling students how.

Promising “change” on a bad cheque This year’s VUSAC election cycle was dominated by the idea that students aren’t properly represented by our student union. This kind of rhetoric is bad for everyone.

Anthony Burton | Editor-in-Chief

By not being any more specific than saying that things will change to better benefit students, well, you avoid that pesky business of having to specify how, but you also avoid actually doing anything for them.

This was my first year in Toronto. The previous year I had been at an international school in Hamilton, Ontario, populated with people coming from the various expanses of the globe, and it’s safe to say that we all felt sheltered there. There was a constant feeling when walking down the halls that we were not al-ways aware that we were living in a foreign country, but the differences between us were what made us feel at home. The idea of a multicul-tural and multiethnic mix of people in cohabitation with each other was

what I assumed would sum up my first year at the University of To-ronto.

Life at UofT has turned out to be one of the most eye-opening learning experiences of my life, quite different from the melting pot of different cultures and races that I expected. A city proclaimed to be one of the biggest cultural hubs of North America, it certainly lacks a certain cohesion of different nation-alities with a harmonious under-standing of differences. Yes, there are events such as University of To-

ronto’s “International Week” that showcase the vast arrays of cultures that thrive around us, mixed with rich experiences and traditions out-side our limited horizon and norms. In reality, these demonstrations of a “United Nations” rarely educate others on the true essence, whether positive or negative, of these civili-zations and only satisfy the search for something “exotic” and “color-ful.”

Coming to Canada from places rich in distinctive norms, with cul-tural behaviors and attributes that

easily define you wherever you go, sometimes it feels like life would be a whole lot easier if we decided to let go of these attributes and blend in with the Canadian majority. Be-ing an international student, one is constantly stuck in a conflicted middle ground of trying to stay true to your home country and repre-sentative of the things you refuse to forget about said country, and adopting the personality, including the language and mannerisms, of an average Westerner in order to make life and interactions with others

When Cultural Awareness Only Goes So Far:The trials of an international student

Tamilore Oshodi | Editorial Assistant

Features • The Strand

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less awkward. Let’s just say, the usual “Sorry, could you say that again?” or “What did you say?” tend to become tiring at times. I can recall numerous conversations I’ve had with domes-tic students in my normal conversa-tional tone that took turns downhill because of lags in sentence pick-ups. Those conversations were immediate-ly revived once I diverted to the more uncomplicated “North American English”. I can assure you both par-ties were still speaking the same Eng-lish language. So, many international students basically live dual personali-ties, with the intent to appease the discomfort of others but still wanting to keep our former personas as alive as possible. It should not be deemed necessary for us to adopt your culture and its attributes, at the expense of our own, in order for you to feel fully comfortable and relaxed around us. We should be more accepting of our differences, and not promote the idea that we should all be clones of one another.

As international students in Can-ada, there is also a constant need to falsify the usual stereotypes. That is, you come in as a representation of your country, and however you act or behave is what others would assume is the norm from your country—a country they have heard little or only negative news about. I am from Nige-ria, a country in Africa, so that means whenever I engage in a new conver-sation with a typical Western other, the usual questions come up: “Wow; you speak English so well, have you lived there all your life?” “How is life over there?” Why are there quick as-sumptions that because someone is from Africa, they must speak in bro-ken sentences, fail to enunciate their words properly, or be in constant search of the appropriate words amid sentences, leaving behind awkward pauses? Africa is a massive continent filled with many countries that have such different ethnic groups with-in each of them, with English and French the most widely used means of communication. There is a definite possibility that international students

may not know how to speak “North American English” properly and suf-fer from such problems as outlined, but it should be considered appropri-ate to give someone who has arrived from a foreign place the certain bene-fit of the doubt before labelling them as a struggling novice.

Jiamin Shi, a first-year student from China, discloses further on the constant battle with language bar-riers. “One issue is how to adapt to a new country, and the other one is

language,” says Jiamin. “Most in-ternational students are away from their parents, so some of them have a strong desire to find a sense of be-longing in this new country. For example, Chinese international stu-dents are very likely to be friends with people who share a similar background with them. As a result, there is a high probability that they will form a small group and mainly live in that small group. Since they speak their mother language most of the time, the language problem may always exist.”

International students face ig-

norant assumptions on a daily basis. You may think we all come from a completely alternate way of living, where you think things are very dis-similar from life here. Put simply, it is usually Third World countries that bear the brunt of such misplaced judgments. These nations have cities and metropolitan areas growing each and every day, as well regions that continue to carry out the traditional life—with many cities that equal the metropolitan status of your beloved

Toronto. Our lives are not so differ-ent from yours. If you wish to truly know more about the place an inter-national student is coming from, ask them about their beautiful country. It would be beneficial to hear about the idea of “home” from the point of view of an individual who has knowl-edge of life outside their immediate expanse, rather than maintaining an ignorant belief in overplayed images of such countries in mainstream me-dia.

When I asked Amina Dan-Sule, a first-year student from Nigeria, what she felt about how some have decided

to accept the situations best, she had some important points. “For interna-tional students, you can never really be prepared for what life will throw at you when moving to a new coun-try. Arriving weeks ahead, signing up for the international student orien-tations, watch movies or documen-taries about the country, your first time here will still be different,” says Amina. “Being here means we have to find a balance between keeping true to ourselves or assimilating. It may prevent you from making friends the way you’d have liked to because some don’t care enough to understand or try to understand, but hopefully you’ll find your people and it won’t be such a bad experience.”

If you find yourself in discussion with an International student, and you truly yearn to learn more about their background and their home. It is necessary to see this person not as an exotic anomaly, but rather as a new opportunity for a friendship—as you would see any other person. Again, while many would have no prob-lem telling you all you need to know about their countries, it would be re-freshing to not hear the usual run of the mill questions of how different life is over there, but rather, engage in a more challenging and open-minded approach, displaying an understand-ing, adjusted, and informed outlook.

International students face a number of difficulties on a day-to-day basis. While our foreign tastes may seem alluring and fascinating, it would be more meaningful if you were able to understand that there are certain pains that come with our disparities in culture and civilization.

So yes, inquire, learn, and digest the cultures and variations of life in the countries these students jour-neyed from, but remember to learn about the actual person beneath all those layers after you have taken your fill.

Being here means we have to find a balance between keeping true to

ourselves or assimilating.

Illustration | Seolim Hong

When I first entered the University of Toronto’s Faculty of Music building (just across the road from Vic), I was fairly sur-prised by the interior. This faculty is one of the highest-ranking post-secondary in-stitutions for studying music in the coun-try, yet the inside was outdated and lack-lustre. Most people know that the arts, in general, often receive little funding, and the Faculty of Music is no exception.

Last month, I had the pleasure of speaking with Gordon Foote, the fac-ulty’s Professor of Jazz Studies. Regard-ing the program funding, he said, “What the faculty really needs is a major donor to help us out. The unfortunate reality is that while our alumni include some of the most talented musicians I’ve ever known, there just isn’t as much money in the fine arts as there is in fields such as math and science.” He continued, “Our administra-tive team is incredible. They’re excellent advocates for the staff and students and they work so hard. But our budgeting isn’t great. Our facilities are outdated, and music is generally quite expensive to offer and maintain at any university.” The lack of funding, then, results in the faculty’s lack of exposure. While on some level most of us know that a music program ex-ists here at UofT, the majority of us know nothing about it.

Professor Foote is extremely devoted to promoting the jazz scene and music studies in general. As one of his teaching duties, he also directs the University of Toronto Jazz Orchestra. He claimed that although exposure for the Faculty of Mu-sic has gotten better over the years, there is still a long way to go until it receives the recognition it deserves.

A huge issue is that so many of us are unaware of the incredible opportu-nities offered at the Faculty of Music. In fact, Professor Foote outlined several ways that non-music students are able to get involved with the faculty. “It would be great if more students came out to the concerts. But more importantly, it would be great if we had more students coming out to auditions. You don’t have to be a part of the Faculty of Music to play in one of our ensembles. In fact, students invited to join an ensemble can actually earn a credit toward their degree. So many stu-dents come to university having loved music in high school, and would perhaps like to continue studying it. I really wish more students knew that they didn’t have

to give up playing when it could serve as a complement to their studies.”

Professor Foote said that his favourite part of working at the Faculty of Music is the energy of the students. “Our students pursue music because they have to—it’s their calling. They enter their programs knowing that there’s a good chance they won’t become famous, but they don’t care about the glory or the paycheque. They’re here to study music because of its artistic value, and that’s a level of dedication and passion you just don’t get to experience anywhere else.”

After learning about the Faculty of Music from the perspective of one of its most dedicated professors, I became very interested in learning more about student life at the faculty. Fortunately, Victoria College and the Faculty of Music have a very intimate relationship due to their close proximity. Moreover, many music students actually live in residence here at Vic because of the lack of housing oppor-tunities through their own faculty.

I had the chance to speak with two extremely passionate and talented stu-dents at the Faculty of Music. Here’s a little more about them: Zack Goldstein is a highly ambitious and enthusiastic first-year clarinet major in a comprehensive program, with hopes of transferring into clarinet performance next year. Macken-zie Clark is a third-year vocal student in the CTEP music education program, and is also one of Victoria’s most spirited and fun-loving dons.

The Strand: Why did you decide to en-rol in the Faculty of Music?

Zack Goldstein: Heading into Grade 12, I knew that I wanted to pursue music. It’s been my passion from a very young age, and I can’t imagine my life going any-where else. I chose UofT because of its strong reputation as the best music pro-gram in the country. I knew that if I was going to pursue a career in music, attend-ing the best school was what I needed to thrive and make my dream a reality.

Mackenzie Clark: Multiple reasons! The faculty is internationally renowned as an impressive and established musical insti-tution. As someone who wants to be a music educator, what really appealed to me was the quality of teaching and the high expectations that professors put on

their students, in all areas of study. The faculty expects its music education majors to be polished performers, and not just musicians who can teach. The members of the education faculty are incredibly tal-ented musicians who constantly remind us how important it is for teachers to be proficient in their instruments.

What is the most rewarding part of be-ing in UofT Music?

MC: Definitely the amount of experience we get in our field. We work very hard as musicians, and so the opportunity to share our gifts with our community, city, and professors is really fulfilling. The faculty works really hard to give us both professional and casual performance op-portunities, so we can see improvements and the impact of our work. In the same sense, the education students get tons of opportunities to go out into schools in the city and work with children. Our ex-perience is almost entirely hands-on, and to be out in the world performing and educating is such a rewarding experience.

If you could let fellow students know one thing about the Faculty of Music, what would it be?

ZG: The one thing I would want to tell other students is that studying music isn’t easy. It’s not calculus or physics, but that doesn’t mean music doesn’t take as much hard work. I’ve never worked harder in my life than I have since I’ve been here, and I think it’s really important for people to open their minds about the reputation of studying fine arts in order to break this stigma. Music […and] other fine arts are just as useful and important to our soci-ety as math, science, literature, and so on.

They are simply undervalued as a practice.

In your opinion, what sets Music apart from the other faculties at UofT?

MC: It’s definitely the size of the facul-ty that makes it stand out in the greater university. We often have faculty-wide events, like pub nights, where we bond as a faculty. Every instrument group (vo-calists, percussionists, pianists, etc.) wel-comes incoming classes every year and students get a chance to make friends across programs and years. Further, we work one-on-one every week, with our private teachers, for all four years of our degree, which makes instruction feel very personal. It is not often that you find people who don’t feel like a number here at UofT, but I think that all music majors would agree that they [have a] place in our community.

Zack and MacKenzie demonstrate the passion and dedication that is needed to pursue the rigorous and competitive world of classical and jazz music. The Fac-ulty of Music is just one of many faculties at UofT that strengthens and diversifies our academic institution. The lack of in-vestment and awareness of the program is discouraging, as there is an abundance of talent and creativity that needs to be fostered. Too often, the arts take the back seat when it comes to university consider-ations, yet it is the arts which enhance and enrich our community. Professor Foote and many others urge you to become ac-quainted with the Faculty of Music and take advantage of the resources it offers.

A closer look at UofT’s Faculty of MusicMolly Kay | Associate Arts & Culture Editor

Arts & Culture • The Strand

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Photography | Molly Kay

Arts & Culture • The Strand

VCDS’s RENT is saturated with brilliant staging ideas—to the point of losing clarity

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The beloved musical Rent focuses on a group of bohemian artists living in Al-phabet City during the AIDS epidemic. Their living circumstances are jeopardized when, coincidentally, they all decide not to pay their rent. (Who thinks they can get away without paying rent? Silly art-ists.) Various relationships are formed in this circle. Songwriter and guitarist Roger Davis (Michael Henley) meets and falls in love with exotic dancer Mimi (Mirabella Sundar Singh), and philosophy professor Tom Collins (Roddy Rodriguez) does the same with Angel (Aaron Hale).

VCDS’s production straddled a spi-dery two-tier set, flanked on one side by a heavily graffitied garage façade, on which was spray-painted, among other things, a “VCDS” autograph. It was a suitably rough-and-ready set. It lacked the beauty and the funding of Broadway’s splintered wood and textured backdrop, but it got the job done, and it had some charm, too. Crowning the centre platform were pseudo-stained-glass panels. They looked great; I thought the VCDS tech crew members would do cool effects, like shine coloured light through them, but they just hung there, colourfully forlorn. The set’s centerpiece, as it turned out, was an eight-foot dancing pole—of all set pieces, it probably got the most action.

The main cast gave strong perfor-mances, from Hale and Singh’s outra-geous platform-heel virtuosity, to Katie Pereira’s curiously self-aware and naturalistic Mark. The ensemble had striking moments of their own, and they seemed carefully cos-tumed, albeit with a strong reliance on flannel. Director Shak Haq had a vision so generously extrava-gant that it obscured those very perfor-mances and threatened the clarity of the show, although it was a brilliant sort of threatening. The large amount of black umbrellas at Angel’s funeral functioned

like a blackout—immediate, unbearable sombreness. Additionally, I was amazed at how the choreographed orgy in the num-ber “Contact” managed to be so effective. However, the cornucopia of dance num-bers, choruses, squeegee men, projec-tions, peddlers handing me empty wine

bottles—not to men-tion the sheer number of bodies on stage at any given time and opening night’s nu-merous tech issues—collectively made the action hard to follow.

The audio was shaky all evening. The Isabel Bader Theatre

is a sizable room, so it’s reasonable to mic the main cast, but the volume bal-ance between main cast and ensemble was such that I’d hear snatches of singing, followed by silences where ensemble solo-

ists couldn’t project their voices. I don’t even know which of those silences were caused by the general saturation of back-ground sound and which were caused by the inexplicable mic cuts that peppered the show. I also suspect that the vocal clarity that microphones provide allowed for some laziness in the visual clarity. In larger numbers like “Rent” I could hear Mark’s voice, but since the microphones freed him from the downstage centre fo-cus, and tech didn’t spotlight him amid the homeless crowd, I had a fun time playing “Missing Mark.” Smaller-scale movement like the lovely duet in “Light My Candle” worked just fine, until Rog-er’s mic cut. I didn’t hear him again until midway through “La Vie Bohème.”

Technical problems on opening night after limited in-theatre technical prepa-ration are understandable. If, like the Broadway production, this run had over 5,000 nights, mistakes on opening night

would be forgettable. Unfortunately, it just so happens that opening night was a full third of this production’s run. Lim-ited technical preparation doesn’t excuse the projections on either side of the stage from being distracting, bluntly edited, and lacking the screen that would have made them clearer.

Who can really blame a show for hav-ing a grand vision? Yes, there were some clarity issues, but they were not so bad that they prevented appreciation of the energy and careful love that went into this production. There truly were some breathtaking and heartrending moments. It’s also nice that a relatively big-budget show found room for playful references to this season’s VCDS plays, including a MIKA-themed throwback to Trojan Bar-bie. I particularly enjoyed the pleasantries of getting mooned, twice.

The dancing, by the way, was sublime throughout.

Yimeng Sun | Contributor

The UC Follies Sketch Troupe capped off their 2015-2016 season with a sold out performance in the renowned Sec-ond City Theatre in downtown To-ronto. Second City is known as a cor-nerstone of the Toronto improv world, having launched the careers of John Candy, Mike Myers, and Eugene Levy. Their show, entitled We Miss you Lorne Michaels, paid homage to UC Follies alumnus Lorne Michaels, co-creator of Saturday Night Live. With a show so connected to Toronto greats, how well would UC Follies Sketch hold up among these titans of the comedy world?

I would be remiss if I did not briefly mention the opening act for the show, which was our very own Victoria Col-lege sketch troupe, The Bob. Beginning with a hilarious opening monologue from co-director Greg Martin compar-

ing and contrasting the two troupes, they then presented some of their own sketches. While they provided some laughs based on the outrageous situa-tions the actors found themselves in, this was just a small sampling of the night to come.

The main show opened with a sketch featuring UC Follies’s head co-writers, Celeste Yim and Kelly de Hoop, discovering a time machine and exploring the past. Unfortunately, due to their ethnicity and gender, they didn’t get very far into history. The sketch was hilarious from the get-go, and set the tone for a show that was not afraid to take risks with its content and stylistic choices.

What I liked so much about the show was how the sketches took a vari-ety of forms. There were more straight-forward sketches based on situational

comedy, with well-timed punchlines. There was some political satire, with actor John Richardson making an ap-pearance as Bernie Sanders at a teenag-er’s house party. The troupe had some more absurd moments, with director Lucas Loizou periodically coming on stage to have mental breakdowns to cheerful pop music. Even with such an array of sketches the show still came together nicely, feeling well-paced and never overworking the material. And, save for one very strange sketch about pornography in the children’s book publishing industry, I found all the sketches to be incredibly funny. To cap off the night, the cast sang a song about the rich and historic culture of the “bro” throughout the ages.

All in all, the show was wonderful-ly constructed from beginning to end. All of the actors played their parts bril-

liantly, with everyone receiving their own moment to take the spotlight, and they were able to effectively play a spectrum of characters—the more outlandish the better. You could really feel the bond and trust the cast had with one another as they performed onstage, which definitely added to the humour in some of the more off-script moments. UC Follies Sketch Troupe were also able to play on certain social issues and bring light to them humor-ously, without totally demeaning them. Unfortunately, as this is their last show of the season, there will be no more op-portunities to catch them this year, but I would highly recommend attending shows if you get the opportunity in the future.

UC Follies Sketch Troupe delivers comedy at its finestPhilip Russell | Contributor

Photography | Rusaba Alam

The main cast gave strong performances, from Hale and Singh’s outrageous platform-heel virtuosity, to Katie Pereira’s curious-ly self-aware and natural-istic Mark.

Film & Music • The Strand

12

What is Kiarostami trying to tell me?That’s the question I’ve been asking

myself while being introduced to his films over the past few weeks at his TIFF Retro-spective.

I’m told there’s a magic moment that comes to those going through Kiarostami’s work for the first time. For me, it was dur-ing his documentary, 10 on Ten, where Ki-arostami drives around the hills of Tehran with a camcorder trained on himself, as he shares ten lessons about cinema and the making of his film, Ten.

At the end, after all this knowledge he’s dropped on you—nuggets about his film-making philosophy, working with actors, and the purpose of film—he parks his car on a hilltop and gets out. The camera is still on, and you’re sitting there, starting out at the greenery through the car window, left alone for a brief moment to ponder all the sage advice that’s been handed to you as Kiar-ostami steps out of frame.

And then you begin to hear what sounds like someone taking a piss in the bushes.

“What does this mean?” you ask as your jaw drops. Is this intentional? If so, what message is he sending the audience by do-ing this? Is he proverbially pissing on all the advice he’s just shared with us? You’re not quite sure if what you’re hearing is actually what you’re hearing, but you’re left think-ing, “Does this man have an off switch?”

You’ll find yourself often asking what’s real when it comes to Kiarostami. His most famous work, Close-Up, is a shining exam-ple. It’s a film about an Iranian man imper-sonating a famous filmmaker and tricking a family into showing him hospitality as he pretends to use their house to shoot his next film. It sounds like a brilliant, slapstick conceit for a story, were it not for one important fact: all the characters ap-pearingin the film are the real people who were actually involved in the real-life case. The family, the imposter, even the filmmaker whose identity is being sto-len, all play themselves in this film. But it isn’t a documentary. It’s presented and filmed for the most part as a fiction, like any other movie. You have these people reenact-ing a bizarre and in some ways embarrassing situation they were actually a part of, and you’re left trying to pencil in the bound-ary between reality and fiction. How much of this story is real, and how much of it is melodrama? Are the actors playing them-selves, or are they playing reality? Hang on, they’re not even actors, they’re just people. You’ve just been a participant in some pecu-liar form of cinematic catharsis.

Experiments like these are how Kiar-ostami tests the dexterity of cinema. He pushes against the membrane of the medi-um to see just how far he can go, and in what ways can he contort the boundaries of film. And you, as the audience member, are an important part of these experiments. Your

perception, con-text, and beliefs are tested at every turn. Like a new drug, his films expand your consciousness, giv-ing new insights into what’s possible. Kiarostami’s fascina-tion with the medi-um is evident; he has a habit of drawing

attention to his films as films. He wants you to know you’re watching a movie, or that you’re about to begin watching a movie, or that you’ve just spent the last two hours watching one.

He pulls this exact move with A Taste of Cherry. Throughout the film we follow a man driving around the hills of Tehran (driving is a big theme for Kiarostami). The main character spends the duration of the film trying to charter the help of lonely strangers to aid him—as we slowly real-ize—in committing suicide. We’re never of-fered insight into why he wants to do this. Instead, we’re simply engaged in this search,

and the implicit idea that the act of killing oneself requires more than one person.

As our protagonist seems to be at the end of his journey, Kiarostami cuts away to documentary footage of his crew shooting the film. Forget breaking the fourth wall; this action shows us who’s building the wall. This last piece of footage is part of the framework of what he’s trying to say with this film. It’s not an addendum or a coda, it is the ending. Kiarostami seems to be sug-gesting that we are complicit. This movie, and the act it depicts, cannot exist without us. He becomes a documentarian of the ex-perience of fiction. Not a documentarian of life, or fiction as individual subjects, but rather the experience of fiction.

These ideas seem to most deftly come across in Shirin, a film that takes place in a cinema where we see over a hundred women watch a Persian epic love story on screen. We never see a single frame of what they’re seeing—you aren’t watching a movie so much as watching people watch a movie. Some will no doubt gawk at the realization that this film is 90 minutes of silent faces, but in spite of its minimalism, it communicates mountains. Over an hour and a half, with nothing more than sound and dialogue, you’re watching this film play out across these women’s faces—their tears, their laughter, their fright. Whichever way you cut it, it is a profound artistic statement.

Why are we only shown the faces of women in the audience and never the men? What does Princess Shirin’s story say about these women and the way they react to it? What does this format articulate about the relationship between people and art? Is it a political statement on censorship in Iran? Or a love letter to the communal experience of cinema?

All of these questions yield many an-swers—and that is perhaps Kiarostami’s greatest lesson to us. When it comes to mat-ters of spirit, an answer is almost never as important as the question. These are sub-jects to be grappled with, but never brought into submission. They are made to expand in your mind, not shrink.

That is the magic of Kiarostami.

TIFF’s Kiarostami retrospective finishes next week; look out for screening of Shirin, 10 on Ten, Certified Copy, The Experience, The Wedding Suit, The Traveler, Tickets, and Like Someone in Love over the next few days.

Vic’s Picks: Singles you should be listening to

A thousand or so words on Abbas Kiarostami

Ammar Keshodia | Contributor

“Take Your Picture with Me While You Still Can”—We Are The City Off their recent LP, Above Club, the Vancou-ver-based indie band tells the story of a lim-inal time. Their production—unique, the-atrical, and unafraid—hides nothing, shows nothing, and only asks you to be vulnerable enough to join. Recalling the early days of The Antlers, the delicate, war-torn vocals are an honest confession, sung on the shoul-ders of all who have ever lost themselves. It brings me where fate is felt, not seen, and ultimately, to the place where we change. The camera pulls further and further back into a wide-shot of objective self-reflection, and then I remember I’m listening to a song and writing a review.

-Aaron Rambhajan

“Make It Work”—Majid Jordan This is a group I find particularly fascinating because they care more about the space in between than the space itself. Majid Jordan

understand sound as physical and tangible, not something that we just hear. They man-ifest experience here—not just controlling how the sound enters your ear, but its time with you and how it leaves. This, to me, is everything that makes an infectious dance record. “Make It Work” does exactly this, fronted by Al Maskati and Ullman in one of their best performances yet.

-Aaron Rambhajan

“Famous”—Kanye West Misogynistic? Homophobic? Perhaps, but a musical success nevertheless. West’s con-troversial song, “Famous,” divides itself in four incredibly distinctive parts, each with its own vocabulary. Rihanna begins the song with a characteristically emotional rendition of Nina Simone’s “Do What You Gotta Do,” coupled with the abrupt juxtaposition of West’s rapping. The dialogue goes back-and-forth between these two for some time, before resolving itself with a remix of Sister

Nancy’s “Bam-Bam”—another contrast to his normal style.

-Charlène Hanania

“Sticky Drama”—Oneohtrix Point NeverIn a musical climate now drowning in syn-thetic sound, “Sticky Drama” by Oneohtrix Point Never attempts to accelerate the pro-cess of digitization tenfold, straight to its doomsday. In place of a traditional vocal-ist, OPN opts for a vocal line sung from what sounds like a sentient, malfunctioning Gameboy that has been set atop buzz saw bass drones. OPN’s combined efforts on “Sticky Drama” come the closest he ever has to making a club track; however, in place of allowing listeners to dance, he forces them to bear witness to its violent implosion. He even has the courtesy to make it catchy.

-Sean Kudryk

“New Math”—Drive Like Jehu In the opening 30 seconds of “New Math,”

Drive Like Jehu could easily fool you into thinking that they were amateurs. Though this wasn’t exactly uncommon in ‘90s hard-core, Drive Like Jehu were amongst the best performers of their scene. “New Math” demonstrates exactly why Drive Like Jehu are such a phenomenal band: guitars bend in and out of tune, frantically dragged for-ward by a rhythm section that refuses to cooperate. As the song progresses, the dis-sonance builds and suddenly settles, leaving moments of complete harmony. It is here that Drive Like Jehu demonstrate just how in control they really are, resulting in one of the most impressive songs produced in ‘90s rock music.

-Sean Kudryk

Vic Records Staff | Contributors

Photography | Celluloid Dreams

He pushes against the membrane of the medium to see just how far he can go—in what ways can he contort the boundaries of film. And you as the audience member are an important part of these experiments.

Film & Music • The Strand

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What does it mean when your favourite band disappears from social media? We Are The City, a progressive indie rock band from Van-couver, deleted all of their Instagram pho-tos, tweets, and their Facebook page in the middle of 2015. Many fans were perplexed by their behaviour. “What happened to We Are The City?” was a common thought that bombarded the minds of many fans, as dem-onstrated by nervous tweets and Facebook posts. However, by October 2015, they were back—with exciting news. They announced that they were releasing a new LP, but that was not the end of the sto-ry. We Are The City told fans they would be doing a 24/7 live-feed recording of their new album; people would be able to watch the band as they recorded their album.

The live feed began on October 12, 2015 at 12 PM. People were able to access the broadcast through www.wearethecity.ca. The band reported to view-ers that they were in Serbia, recording in a little room above a nightclub. The broadcast reached a climax when a strange man came into the studio and started touching their equipment. He stole their laptop and spoke aggressively into the webcam. This was very confusing and worrisome for many viewers, including the band The Zolas, who expressed concern over Twitter: “What’s going on at the http://wearethecity.ca live stream right now is beyond fucked up. Everything ok over there guys?” The band was able to smooth things over with the man, and they continued to re-cord. The album took a total of three weeks, with their live stream totaling 360 hours. The band titled their album Above Club, and it was released on November 12, 2015 with eight tracks.

Everyone was happy to hear that We Are The City was back and releasing a new album, but they had another announcement. Just a few weeks ago, in an interview with CBC radio, We Are The City revealed that the whole live stream had been a hoax! They had never been in Serbia, and it had not real-ly been a live stream—it was all pre-recorded.

It turned out that they had actually finished their album a year and a half prior.

So what inspired this bizarre but intrigu-ing act of deception? In the CBC interview, the band claimed they were frustrated with social media. Specifically, they did not like the presentation and representation of social media. They were bored with the classic for-mula of depicting their best and coolest mo-ments on a medium that was projected to the world (this explains their initial hiatus and in-activity on social media). They were tired of it, so they decided to do something different.

Additionally, the band wanted to present an “al-ternate reality of story-telling,” so they created a different universe. They wanted to use social me-dia and live streaming as a medium to tell a story.

How does a band convince the world they are recording an album

on the other side of the world from where they actually are? It certainly was not easy. The band members (Andrew, Cayne, and David) went into incognito mode. They had to disguise themselves and wear costumes; Andrew embodied a stealthy hacker, David dressed as a “gangster,” and Cayne imitated a hipster. Close family members were not aware of their elaborate plan. On Instagram, they were geotagging from Serbia, when, re-ally, they were in Vancouver the whole time. However, hiding from the world was just the beginning of their intricate scheme. They also had to record a lot of footage, and this took a long time. Since it was a 24/7 live stream, they had to film themselves sleeping. Dur-ing the sleeping scenes, the camera would be angled towards one person lying in bed, and then another person would have to pause the recording while the person in bed changed sleeping positions. They took the footage they had and looped it, simulating the natu-ral tossing and turning of a human’s sleeping state.

In the end, they exported a lot of foot-age and finished with 360 hours of recorded material—the longest film ever made. In-terestingly, the band actually applied for the

Guinness World Record for longest film in history (until 2020, when a 720-hour film is allegedly being released). On a 250 GB hard drive, their film is now available to pre-order on their website.

This is not the first time the band dab-bled in the film. Just last year, Violent—a film that Andrew Huculiak (drummer) di-rected and wrote with others—screened at the Vancouver International Film Festival and Canada’s Top Ten Film Festival. The film is visually breathtaking, and quite an expe-rience in itself. Set in Norway, Violent fol-lows the life of Dagny, a young woman who moves to a big city. Drenched with existential undertones and minimalistic symbolism, the film illustrates the underpinnings of life and death, movement and inertia, and lightness and darkness. With a soundtrack composed by none other than the band themselves, the music drives the film into a dream-like state.

Besides their work in the film world, the release of the new album called for a world tour with shows in Europe, the United States, and Canada. Just a few weeks ago (February 27), We Are The City had a mesmerizing show in Toronto at Adelaide Hall. From the visually stunning lighting designed to match their musical sounds, to the pure and honest stage presence of the band, the three musi-cians led an aesthetically pleasing and ener-getic show. Playing tracks from both their

new album (Above Club) as well as their older album (Violent) induced a sense of nostalgia, but also futurist hopes. At one point, Cayne temporarily took away phones from people that were recording because he did not want them to experience the show through their phone screens. The audience was completely engrossed by the atmospheric and entrancing music, which carried them back and forth through an endless time portal; time no lon-ger existed when people were watching, lis-tening, and experiencing We Are The City.

One thing is very clear—the band is pas-sionate. They are absorbed by the work they do, which is demonstrated through their commitment and effort. They continue to push past boundaries in their art, experiment-ing with different musical sounds, ideas, and visuals. These ardent artists trigger inspiration as they pull people away from the mundane aspects of everyday life. Through their music and films, they say to their fans, “Hey! There is more out there in the world for you to ex-plore and discover.” It is incredibly refreshing and motivating to see boundless dedication and excitement for their art. The band has come a long way since their formation in 2008. From winning film awards to simulat-ing reality via fake internet broadcasting, We Are The City is not your typical band.

Arika Jiang | Staff Writer

Pushing Past Boundaries: We Are The City is not your typical band

Kody McCann & Andrew Nevin | Contributors

This Unruly Mess I’ve Made or The Heist again?

Macklemore and Ryan Lewis self-released their second studio album, This Unruly Mess I’ve Made, on February 26, 2016. There was some advertising before the release, but it was not as hyped as it could have been after coming off their Grammy Award-winning debut album The Heist. Like The Heist, This Unruly Mess I’ve Made features over 15 dif-ferent artists, ranging from global icon Ed Sheeran, to great verses by Chance the Rap-per, KRS-One, and Anderson Paak, to hip-hop pioneers like Melle Mel, Kool Me Dee, and Grandmaster Caz. It includes songs that tackle drug addiction, raising a child, fame and materialism, and white privilege. The al-bum debuted at Number 4 on the Billboard 200.

In the trailer released for the new album, Ben Haggerty (a.k.a. Macklemore) discusses how he needed to escape Seattle to clear his mind from the pressure to survive in the mu-sic industry. While out in a cabin in Eastern Washington state, he remembered why he made music. He and Ryan Lewis made mu-sic “not because we had to, but because we got to.” Macklemore noted he has struggled with the exponential rise to stardom thanks to the incredible popularity of The Heist, and especially its songs “Thrift Shop” and “Same Love.”

Macklemore and Ryan Lewis’s biggest single from the album before its debut was “Downtown” featuring Eric Nally, Melle Mel, Kool Moe Dee, and Grandmaster Caz. “Downtown” was the combination of a homage to throwback rappers and an answer to “Thrift Shop.” “Downtown” has way too much going on in it. It felt like a forced an-chor for the album, and it lacks the original-ity and hilarity of “Thrift Shop.” The same can be said about “Dance Off,” featuring actor Idris Elba and Anderson Paak, it is a classic Macklemore song only because he al-ready made it as a solo performer titled “And We Danced.”

“Growing Up,” featuring Ed Sheeran, is about Macklemore becoming a father. The song is a very real description of fatherhood that gives insight into how Macklemore wants to raise his daughter and his views on the world. The chorus by Ed Sheeran is typical Sheeran (which is a fantastic compli-ment). It’s a calming song with a very genu-ine feel.

In “Need to Know,” with Chance the Rapper, the two artists discuss how they struggled to retain their genuine writing style in the industry. Chance the Rapper raps about how he has to “Stare at the cue cards, take out the juke parts/Take out the

God references, just leave the cool parts.” In my opinion, this is the best song on the album because it is what Macklemore and Lewis became famous from—calling out the absurdity of the culture where artists need to dilute their music to fit the mainstream pop because the money matters more than the music.

The album’s best commentary is “Kev-in,” wherein Macklemore discusses his drug relapse, railing against the culture of over-prescription in the United States. His best line from the song is “Got anxiety, better go and give him a Xanax/Focus, give him Adderall, sleep, give him Ambien/‘Til he’s walking ‘round the city looking like a man-nequin.” Macklemore and Lewis convey a sense of hatred of this pervasive culture, one learned through experience. While these lyr-ics are not the most creative beats anyone has ever dropped, they pinpoint the problem at its core: anyone can be “fixed” with a pill.

“White Privilege II” was the album’s most direct commentary on current culture, but the eight-minute-46-second song did not reach its full potential. It was a culmi-nation of random dialogues from the news and Macklemore’s own verses. It constantly felt like it was there only because it needed to be. It’s long and discombobulated, and

it lacks the sharp wit that Macklemore and Lewis are known for. It had specific points that were very good, such as its comment that Americans take what they want from black culture but do not show up to defend black lives, but it lacks cohesion and any sort of clarity in the message. “A Wake” (featured in The Heist) was Macklemore and Lewis’s best song that dealt with race. Compared to “White Privilege II,” it is subtle yet powerful in its message, and has lyrics that are more emotional than forced.

What made The Heist so great was that the songs weren’t made with the intention of appealing to a mass audience. Macklemore made them for himself, with the intention of making music and making society better. In this album, Macklemore and Lewis are too self-aware, and the constant reminder that they tried to be as genuine as possible blurs the points they try to make. With the excep-tion of a few songs, the album cannot com-pare to their previous one. With that said, Macklemore and Ryan Lewis continue to write songs about the issues they care deeply about; debating how well those songs address a certain issue is inherently better than an artist that doesn’t address any societal issues at all.

How does a band convince the world they’re recording an album on the other side of the world?

Photography | Kirsten Berlie

14

Film & Music • The Strand

A Twenty-First Century Fairytale

It’s that time of year again. The time when millions of people unite for the television event that everyone will be talking about. Every Monday night, these televisions are tuned in from 8–10 PM to watch The Bach-elor.

Approximately 8.5 million people tune in to The Bachelor every week. The show fol-lows the journey of one eligible single man in an attempt to find true love. He is pre-sented with 25 women, and must proceed to date all of them at once in order to find his soulmate. The goal is for the Bachelor to find “the one” and propose to her by the end of the show.

Now, this is as good as reality television gets. As anyone can imagine, one house with 25 girls all competing for the same man is a recipe for drama, drama, and more drama. The viewers watch in awe as the con-testants proceed to backstab, gossip, and lie, all to gain affection from the Bachelor. It is hard enough keeping track of the women’s names, never mind how many tears they’ve shed per episode.

In a typical episode of The Bachelor, there will be one-on-one dates, a group date, a few cocktail parties, and a rose ceremony. The contestants compete for the Bachelor’s

affection and, more importantly, for a rose. At the end of each week, the contestants who do not receive a rose have lost their chance at finding love.

To any self-respecting individual, the premise for this show seems ridiculous. Find love? In a matter of months? With 25 girls? At the same time? All while being filmed? The representation of women constantly seeking validation from one powerful man seems to be working in opposition to the way women want to be viewed in society today. So why do millions of us watch this show, season after season?

Perhaps the way we are raised can give us the answer. From a young age, every child is told fairytales. We listen to stories of gal-lant knights, fearful villains, vulnerable prin-cesses, and we fall in love with the idea of finding a happily-ever-after fairytale ending for ourselves.

Vladimir Propp, a Soviet folklorist, analyzed fairytales and broke them down in order to understand what it is we love so much about them. Propp describes 31 basic elements that seem to occur in most fairytales. These range from #1: “The Ini-tial Situation” in which the story is set up, to #15: “Transference,” where the hero is

taken to another emotional level, to #25: “Difficult Task,” where the hero must face a challenge in order to reach #31: “The Wed-ding,” where the hero and the princess live in matrimonial bliss forevermore. The basic fairytale also has recurring characters. There is always a hero, a dispatcher—who explains the hero’s quest—a villain, and a princess, among others. Sounds familiar? It should. ABC has successfully captivated millions of viewers by creating a modern day fairytale.

Never mind the fact that throughout all 20 seasons of The Bachelor, there have only been about five successful relationships. Ev-eryone who watches The Bachelor desires the confirmation that true love still exists. The fairytale ideal allows for the fantastical, dream-like setting in which the Bachelor and 25 women are trying to fall in love. The viewers delight in seeing Chris Harrison, the host of the show, help the hero in his quest for love. They relish the takedown of the villains as the Bachelor gets closer to find-ing his princess. As he slays his dragons and hands out his roses, The Bachelor fandom is with their hero every step of the way.

But beyond creating the kinds of fairy-tales we grew up listening to and reading as kids, The Bachelor develops a darker, more

Hans Christian Andersen kind of story. Its representations of identity, romance, and personal value are aligned with crude ideas of capitalism and sexism. I would argue that the way this series tells its story, emphasizing the ways that such themes can be hidden be-hind frivolity and the promise of happiness, make this not just a piece of mindless enter-tainment, but also a potentially dangerous text. It socializes certain ideas about how we value people, how we understand what is re-alistic and desirable.

We have been taught that true love conquers all. The opportunity to watch love develop on camera, disregarding the many edits and times it takes to get the perfect shot, is beyond our resistance. The Bachelor is the world’s twenty-first century fairytale, brought to us on a high-definition screen. And who doesn’t love a good love story?

Adina Samuels | Staff Writer

REVIEW: American Crime Story Ryan Kay | Contributor

True crime stories, whether produced in the form of a television series, film, or novel, have an inescapable hook for audiences that crave realism. Dramatization aside, audi-ences are attracted to this form of storytell-ing because the events are situated in a real-ity that closely resembles the world they live in. When Netflix’s Narcos used actual foot-age of bombings and assassinations associat-ed with Pablo Escobar’s Medellín Cartel, it bound the TV drama closer to a shocking, but true, reality. American Crime Story: The People v. O.J. Simpson, Scott Alexander and Larry Karaszewski’s new anthology series on FX, is the most recent example of a prestige television production tackling a true crime story. The ten-part series covers the O.J. Simpson murder trial, a trial that is largely considered to be the most famous trial in history of the United States. The Ameri-can public was drawn to the case because Simpson, a football and movie star at the time, was accused of murdering his ex-wife, Nicole Brown Simpson, and her friend,

Ronald Goldman. Its popularity was com-pounded when Judge Lance Ito decided to televise the trial for the public.

Alexander and Karaszewski took an ar-tistic risk when they chose to tackle such a monumental event. Critics and commenta-tors were concerned that the series would disregard the facts, veer towards campy storytelling, and fail to capture the larger-than-life people that played a central role in the trial’s events. These factors, and the phe-nomenal nature of the trial itself, make The People v. O.J. Simpson’s success all the more impressive. The series simultaneously com-bines a (mostly) factually accurate retelling of the case with a smart use of social satire to address the absurdity that surrounded the trial. The showrunners were also able to make the issues that surrounded the case relevant today, tapping into the zeitgeist of contemporary society. Whether it is police misconduct, racial difference, or a growing infatuation with mass media coverage, the events depicted in The People v. O.J. Simp-

son are surprisingly relatable to significant issues that continue to exist in contempo-rary public discourse.

The show’s ability to convey these issues owes a great deal to the showrunners’ script, the directorial vision of Ryan Murphy, and the performances of the cast. There’s an in-fectious pace to the show that manages to make seemingly boring moments exciting. These moments are upheld by the cast’s col-lective commitment to realising the person-alities of the real people they are playing. The standout performances are Sarah Paulson as prosecutor Marcia Clark, and Courtney B. Vance as lead defence attorney Johnnie Co-chran. Both actors convey the complex per-sona of these lawyers, in performances that will surely garner them recognition dur-ing awards season. In regards to the show’s structure, there is a clear effort to follow the timeline of the case from the night of the murder to the verdict. The show does not hold back in its retelling of the events that occurred prior to and during the trial, cov-

ering everything from the famous Bronco chase, to the media’s treatment of Marcia Clark. While many facts were inevitably left out due to time constraints (the series only runs for ten episodes), the show still re-mains dedicated to accurately including the most important details of the case and trial.

The People v. O.J. Simpson is essential viewing for any television fan, especially for those interested in true crime dramas. The fact that the outcome of the trial is widely known by the majority of the public dem-onstrates the showrunners’ impressive abili-ty to entertain and surprise an informed au-dience. Alexander and Karaszewski provide a novel way to represent history, and choose a particularly spectacular history to tell. For what it sets out to do, and considering the scope of event it is tackling, The People v. O.J. Simpson is hugely successful in taking a circus of a trial and turning it into a care-fully crafted short series that exists among the best that TV has to offer in 2016.

Photography | ABC

Stranded • The Strand

15

Nighttime. A father sits on his young daughter’s bed. She is snuggled under the covers, blinking innocently. Soft light. Crickets chirp.

Father: All right, Sally, time for your bedtime story. Tonight’s is “The Tale of the Four Circles.” Are you listening, Sally? It’s a very important story.

Sally: Oh yes, Father, I’m listening!

Sally’s bright eyes widen to show she is listening. Her father smiles.

Father: Once upon a time there were four best friends—three circles and one triangle. One day, they decid-ed to go on an adventure to find the powerful Emperor Wally T., for it was rumored that he could turn all shapes into circles.

Sally: Father, why does the triangle want to be a circle?

Father: Hush, Sally, all shapes want to be circles. Everyone knows that.

He pats Sally’s head. She is so young, so naïve.

Father: The circles and the triangle journeyed far across the land. They rolled up and down many hills and squeezed through many dark tunnels. All the circles rolled along easily, but the triangle struggled to keep up.

Sally: Oh no, poor triangle!

Father: You see? That’s why he wants to be a circle.

Sally: But, Father, why doesn’t Em-peror Wally T. just change his king-dom instead? He could flatten the hills and widen the dark tunnels so all the shapes can move around!

Father, shaking his head: Sally, that’s not how it works. Do you have any idea how expensive and time-consum-ing that would be?

Sally: But he’s an emperor—

Sally’s father grabs a juice box from Sally’s bedside table and sticks the straw in her mouth.

Father: Hush, now, dear Sally, just listen to the story.

Sally sips juice indignantly. Her father takes a deep breath.

Father: Ahem, when the shapes finally found Emperor Wally T. at the end of a long, dark tunnel, he rewarded their courage. Wally T. took four shiny gold circles and stuck them on each of the shapes. He declared that they were all true circles, even the triangle. Every-one rejoiced. The end.

Sally spits out her straw.

Sally: But Father! The triangle’s not re-ally a circle!

Father: No, Sally, it’s fine. Everyone has to call him a circle now, okay? The end! Yay!

Sally’s father hurriedly tucks the blankets around her and grabs the juice box.

Sally: But it’s still going to be harder for him to journey back over the hills and through the tunnels! Wally T. didn’t do his job right!

Her father squeezes the juice box ner-vously.

Father: Shhhh, it’s a happy ending, okay, Sally? Good night, darling.

He hurries out of the room, shaking juice off his hand. He wonders vaguely why he is sweating. Tomorrow he will tell her a better story—the one about the pink bird who gets 72 worms for every 100 worms the blue bird gets. Yes, there is nothing wrong with that one.

Sara Truuvert | Staff Writer

The Tale of the Four Circles

DOWN

1. Teletoon favourite ___face2. Tree-sounding word for enthusiasm 3. Ready, willing, and ___4. What do you call 3.15? ___ __5. Short for Sarnia6. Elec___7. Water in Cancún8. ____ and Gabban13. Parental goodbye15. Delaware school16. Poet ___ cummings17. Sudbury’s underground observatory21. Miranda Lambert hit22. Only you can prevent forest ___23. “Don’tcha ___ your girlfriend was...’24. Sailor’s place25. Fancy dogs26. ___ scan, no “Axial”27. Pancake restaurant, less a letter28. ___ Misérables29. Best food, abbrev. 30. Relatable figure in classical myth 34. “___?!?” “No, beads.”35. *N___36. Juan or Giovanni38. “It’s not me, it’s ___”40. Comment ça ___?41. Robot brain42. ___ Bean/Cool J

1. There’s always money in it9. Ol’ J___, the ring guy10. People smell11. Charlie Brown catchphrase12. __GYN14. Bad way to celebrate Valentine’s Day?18. Undesirable relationship trait19. Hit TLC show Sex Sent Me To The ___

20. ___ olde21. King ___ the Hill25. Final Teletubby26. Sid Meier’s opus31. Soon-to-be-saintly nun32. “It’s shite being ___ttish!”33. Smeagol catchphrase abbrev.34. “Bees?!?” “No, ___.”

37. As, Es, Is, Os, Us, and __38. Once per solar orbit39. Drake’s label/festival41. Lotion ingredient43. B___os días44. Nemo’s ride45. Student services centre

ACROSS

The Crossing of the WordsAriana Douglas | Crossword Queen

Stranded • The Strand

16

The harsh clack of your keyboard, dredg-ing another essay from the well of Good Enough. The sting of the sunrise, piercing your eyes as you desperately try to format that data table and stop getting error messages. The cold hand on your shoul-der grasping you from beyond this mor-tal coil, pulling you into a carnival of the

damned as the deadline comes and goes and you accept that this just isn’t worth it any more. Don’t you wish there was a better way? Or at least one more listicle to read prior to actually doing all that?

Stranded has heard your screams in the night, your whispered prayers for a rogue asteroid to ruthlessly smite this un-

holy institution. The only salvation we can offer is a knowing shake of the head, and a hollow sigh of resignation. Stranded knows what ultimately breeds this cycle of horror, these tortured nights: procras-tination. Slipping into nightmares is not so different, as the pleasant and dream-like gives way to utter despair. Gather

round, and hear the woeful parables of The Strand’s miserable masses; how they once felt the warm embrace of procras-tination, and how it turns to a chilling stranglehold. Behold: the Delightful and the Detestable!

Lying Under a Blanket Doing NothingFor me, the most fulfilling activity before starting to consider my responsi-bilities is just simply lying under a blanket for a really long time. Not look-ing at a clock or phone is a requirement. It can be in the dark or not, doesn’t really matter. It’s often better if darkness starts to creep in to indicate that a lot of time has passed, but you can’t really know say how much.

Cool Wikipedia ListsThere’s few pleasures purer than a well-curated, fully-realized Wikipedia list. Sure, most of the great ones involve death; “List of professional cyclists who died during a race,” “List of entertainers who died during a performance,” “List of inventors killed by their own inventions,” etc. But let’s be real: if you’d turn your nose up at a list of every fatal alligator attack in the United States since the 1970s, then you are probably the least fun person you know by a wide margin.

Costume DramasOne of my favourite forms of procrastination is watching costume dramas in several parts on YouTube. Nearly all of the good ones from the 1980s and 90s are on there somewhere, as well as a good many of the shittier ones from recent years. The formatting can be a little offbeat, and quality is of-ten wanting, but you really don’t notice after the first hour or so. The 1995 Pride and Prejudice with Portuguese subtitles in 48 parts? Sounds good. The extremely shitty 2009 Desperate Romantics with spotty audio and significant portions of episode 4 missing? Absolutely. I love it.

Rec League SportsOne of my favourite non-school activities is playing for a soccer team on Sunday nights. The busier and more draining school becomes as the semes-ter winds down, the more I look forward to those end-of-the-week games and begin treating them much more seriously than anyone should treat a rec league. I mine the league’s standings for statistics, assess our biggest threats, mentally craft post-game pros & cons, and draw up defensive schemes. Ide-ally I’d devote more preparationtime to schoolwork, but ROSI does not reward me with a tuque emblazoned “League Champions” (cue “Sweet Vic-tory” by David Glen Eisley).

SmokingI’m ready to work. I’ve got a lot of ideas, and I’ve been thinking about this essay all week. It’s going to be great, and it’s going to be easy. Time for one last indulgence: I sit on the bench outside of Robarts and light a cigarette, basking in the sharp buzz of my Peter Jackson Blues. I’m not addicted, be-cause I only smoke as a luxury. And what a luxury it is.

Good procrastination is that feeling when you wake up and realize you have more time to sleep. It’s the freedom of knowing you could work on that thing you need to work on, but you don’t need to at this point. You can delay, because your eternal lover, Time, has not crunched its thighs around your head yet. It’s the wise words of J. Alfred Prufrock telling you that “there will be time.” And you can spend three hours playing Zelda instead of doing your essay.

Cleaning Every Surface in My ApartmentI don’t love to scrub toilets or do all my laundry that’s been piling up for several weeks while I was lying under a blanket doing nothing. But if I have a lot of essays to write, it’s the perfect time to do all of these things, as well as collect and wash all of my own and my roommate’s dirty dishes, sanitize the inside of the microwave, organize all my shelves, sweep and mop the floors, and so on.

Sad Wikipedia ListsAlec Guinness complained a lot about being best known as Obi-Wan Kenobi toward the end of his life, but all things considered he got off easy. He could have been remembered as “Actor who appears most often on Wikipedia’s list of films featuring whitewashed roles.” He also could’ve had the unfortunate fate of reading through the entire “List of political self-immolations” page. Or finding that only the third film in the Atlas Shrugged trilogy is included on “List of films with a 0% rating on Rotten Tomatoes.” Maybe those two shouldn’t be compared, but my point is that I don’t spend too much time on Wikipedia. Hate-ReadingMy absolute least favourite form of procrastination is hate-reading MRA or PUA material online. This doesn’t happen very often, but when it does, it is invariably several hours into an essay-is-due-in-the-morning all-nighter. Really there’s not much to say here because it is obviously the very worst. Did you know that Bang: The Most Infamous Pickup Book In The World is available in its entirety as a photocopied PDF for free on Google? You don’t even have to download it. It’s the worst. I don’t know. Just don’t read it.

Drawing Out The InevitableI have a routine to ease myself back into work. It often begins with a run down to the Harbourfront at the crack of dawn so I feel like Rocky Balboa ready to take on defending heavyweight champion Sidney “ROSI” Smith. Then comes a philosophical shower lathered with deep existential thought. Following a quick round of ‘procrasti-cleaning’, I settle into a newly orga-nized workspace and am reminded of the Gorbachev quote “We can’t go on living like this.” I then initiate the perestroika my study habits desperately need, fighting off resistance from hardliners such as Rick Grimes, Dwight Schrute, and Gennady Yanayev.

SmokingWhen Lindsay Lohan went to the hospital for exhaustion, was that legit? I wonder if I can get a doctor’s note for that. It’s three in the morning. Class is at noon. The first floor of Robarts is not conducive to all-nighters. Ab-sentmindedly, as I’m still very absorbed in this whole exhaustion gambit, I go to light a cigarette before I realize that it’s actually very illegal to smoke inside. I go outside, where the street meat guy is the only one there to judge me. He is judging me.

Bad procrastination is the sinking feeling that arrives when you understand that, no matter how much coffee you ingest, you are not going to be able to recover the hours you’ve lost. It’s sitting and doing nothing because you have so little time left to finish the thing you need to finish that Time has become an abstract concept. You can no longer comprehend the shit you are in. It’s realising that you really should’ve dared to eat a peach while you still had one to eat, because now all you have is disappointment, a terrible GPA, and the knowledge that Hyrule is safe.

The Stranded Guide to Delightful and Detestable Procrastination

Delightful Detestable

The Strand Staff | Inveterate Procrastinators