Voter apathy has been an issue at McGill for the past few years, with turnout in SSMU Executive elections and referendums ranging from around 10 per cent to 19 per cent, which amounts to around 3,000 people – a very small proportion of the 26,765 undergraduate students enrolled at the university. A fair number of voters who open the voting link for elections also choose to abstain on all questions, with around 30 per cent of voters abstaining on the majority of candidates in this year’s SSMU elections. This demonstrates either a lack of concern for who is elected or an arguably understandable lack of faith in any candidate.  While there is always ample (and valid) criticism of our student unions – students need only take a quick scroll through McGill’s subreddit – students consistently fail to show up to vote. It’s hard to work out who’s to blame for this, though. While students need to at least show up if they want change, it’s easy to understand why they are disillusioned with student government: years of disappointment from inexperienced and power-hungry executives who have failed to follow through on their campaign promises leaves a bleak environment for electoral politics. 

Students have found communication from SSMU to be frustrating, contributing to their lack of motivation to vote in student government elections. An anonymous U3 Arts student spoke to the Daily about the SSMU’s lack of clarity in elections emails: “I normally can’t find the time to go through the chutes and ladders of figuring out the online portals, and almost every time a question or a candidate has changed and I have to do it multiple times. And even when I do fill it out, I often get follow-up emails asking me to vote again, or saying I haven’t yet voted, even though I know for a fact that it’s the exact same question or election I just voted on. It takes too much time, and it’s clearly not worth the effort.” Another anonymous student working for SSMU feels that Elections SSMU doesn’t have a good handle on the process: “I find those emails to be poorly written. They’re always full of errors, and I feel like the Elections officers quite often miss things that they shouldn’t. It means ballots are constantly being restarted every time and everyone receives, like, fifty emails at once. Nobody’s going to read all that when we have stuff to do like classwork.”

Students complain that the election process is so bureaucratic that it creates confusion about who is running and why, and that information is often hidden behind the numerous links that students receive in election periods. Tory Fortunato, U3 Arts, cites this as a key reason for lack of student engagement with SSMU politics: “While the frequent reminders are helpful for me to remember to vote, the fact that they flood my inbox for an entire week is honestly a bit overwhelming. I wish emails included more about who is running and what is on the ballot rather than just simple reminders. For students who are not as active on Facebook, which is where most SSMU campaigning happens, receiving emails about the ballot in its entirety would be helpful.” Fortunato’s mention of Facebook highlights another issue – that students are often not provided candidate information on an easy-to-access platform. Just this year, Elections SSMU failed to provide contact information for every campaign on the Referendum Question ballot, and it did not inform campus news outlets about the removal of the Palestine Solidarity Policy from the ballot at any point – the Daily was notified directly by Solidarity for Palestinian Human Rights McGill. This lack of communication runs contrary to Elections SSMU’s mandate regarding media communication, and it makes running for, voting for, and reporting on SSMU an inaccessible process for all involved. 

It’s therefore no wonder that students don’t participate in elections when the process often seems complicated and bureaucratic, particularly for the average student not involved in student government. Blinded by bureaucracy, unions are failing to provide meaningful support to the students they represent: “I think what underscores the plight of student unions everywhere in Canada is a crisis of engagement, a crisis which could be avoided entirely if student unions could recall their raison d’etre and make themselves meaningful to students,” said Nick Taylor of Trent University in a conversation with the Daily. “At Trent, our student union has come to see itself as an extension of the university, far more concerned with the administration of services, than with any kind of actual lobbying, whether around tuition costs, or accessibility needs for online learning, or the seemingly ceaseless desire of our university administration to corporatize and commercialize.”

This is one of the student body’s biggest gripes surrounding our own union at McGill: SSMU is so bogged-down by bureaucracy that it takes forever for real institutional change to happen as well as for student-serving initiatives to get up and running. Right now, for instance, Councillors and Senators are mostly unpaid positions.  Though paid Commissioner roles do exist, Councillors and Senators do a comparable amount of work; they are absolutely crucial to the drafting and presenting of motions for enacting institutional change and for generally serving the interests of their constituents. With these roles being mostly unpaid, the capacity of these workers is diminished. 

Councillors who do receive compensation for their work are financed by their respective departmental associations – like the Arts Representatives, who are funded by AUS. Arts Representative Yara Coussa told the Daily that this leads to problems for the unpaid representatives, who have to work on a voluntary basis: “It is not coincidental that the only Councillors getting paid through their departmental associations are the ones who are constantly bringing forward motions and speaking out,” Representative Coussa explained. “That being said, we are paid below the minimum wage for a very demanding and mentally taxing job.”

Students responsible for enacting change are therefore overstretched and underpaid for their time while still being held accountable for their work. In the past year, we have seen cases of Representatives being reprimanded for failing to consult on motions – but a lack of institutional memory in SSMU means that students are inadequately prepared for the roles they hold and that errors like this happen due to a lack of training and clarity. 

This year also saw VP Internal Sarah Paulin request that campus media refrain from contacting SSMU employees despite the contracts signed by those employees not preventing media outlets from doing so. But VP Paulin came into the role with limited experience, taking over from a line of VP Internals who either never took office or also had limited experience in student government. Running unopposed in last year’s election, Paulin had little template on which to base her work – it’s not surprising that SSMU Executives make mistakes like this when there is a profound lack of institutional memory in the organization and when training is inconsistent from year to year. Effectively, SSMU has become a place where inexperienced candidates are burdened with salaried jobs that they aren’t prepared for.  Though students should understand the risks and responsibilities of running for SSMU, the bureaucracy of the organization makes it hard to ensure that unprepared candidates know the full extent of the responsibilities and difficulties they can expect to face in their roles. 

As a current SSMU employee myself, I would never run for a SSMU executive position. It’s a common sentiment among casual staff that the roles are doomed and that those who actually care about and are involved in student government know not to run because they’re likely to be burned out by October and embroiled in various disputes, scandals, and interpersonal conflicts. The roles are too much work for too little gain – while it’s an often-cited complaint that SSMU executives receive a high salary, their work reportedly translates to around minimum wage, with executives often taking on other jobs during their tenure in order to support their studies. The work that executives are tasked with is often burdensome and impossible to complete in a single year, particularly when much of the year is spent putting out fires – such as this year’s ongoing disputes regarding President Darshan Daryanani’s absence and the extra work required of other executives in his absence. Readers can take a look at the Daily’s past endorsements to see if any candidates managed to complete even the most basic of their campaign promises – more often than not, they’ve not completed any. 

The roles therefore attract people running for the wrong reasons, not the students who have actually fought for change. This year, extensions were issued for three key positions (VP External, VP University Affairs, VP Student Life) due to a lack of applications, and three positions overall ran unopposed. These issues are far from exclusive to SSMU and McGill – the University of Toronto’s student union has failed to find a president for the coming year after nobody ran for the office. Meanwhile, The Ubyssey, despite not normally issuing endorsements, urged students not to vote for a particular slate following a slew of elections violations. Taylor provides insight into similar issues for executives at Trent University: “at the end of last academic year, half the executives of our student union stepped down over what was ostensibly an interpersonal conflict […] I think a lot of people see student union executive positions as something akin to a high school’s student council, and often their approach to the position reflects the same level of maturity. But it’s a job! And students are footing the bill for these opportunistic careerist types to clamor all over one another in a competition to see who the biggest narcissist is. It’s gross!” Exceptions to this would include candidates like this year’s VP University Affairs Claire Downie, who went on a leave of absence following the return of President Daryanani. At a recent consultative forum, Representative Coussa commented, “​​I think that it is shameful that SSMU is an environment where an exec is unable to work because she feels unsafe […] I think that we have failed VP Downie.”

While writing this article, I received news of VP Downie’s resignation from SSMU. In her letter of resignation, she describes the toxic environment that led to her departure: “There are some truly kind and devoted people at SSMU who genuinely care about supporting students, but there are far more people with different priorities. SSMU attracts a lot of truly harmful and just plain unkind people. For the past few months, I have witnessed my coworkers fail to understand, let alone advance, anti-violence and anti-oppression in the workplace. Inaction allows it to continue with impunity regardless of who it harms. Their behavior as well as their inaction has furthered an unsafe environment at SSMU. It cost me this job, a full time source of income, and a lot of other things that I can’t articulate properly yet.”

With issues ranging from voter apathy, to a lack of candidates, to corruption allegations, and to inexperienced executives, it’s almost impossible to know where to start in terms of reforming SSMU and other Canadian student unions into organizations that actually enact meaningful change for the students they serve. One proposed solution is an initiative by Bryan Buraga to “Democratize SSMU,” but current members of SSMU governance have expressed dissatisfaction with the initiative. Current AUS VP External Charlotte Gurung told the Daily that she feels the initiative “is not feasible, it is a bandaid for bigger issues, and would make SSMU operations impossible.” They also criticized Buraga’s process of consultation: “The faculty societies are independently licensed organizations. Organizers of the Democratize SSMU motion did not do due diligence in consulting the Faculty Associations when writing this motion which would fundamentally change the operations of the independent faculty organizations […] Organizers of the motion did not consider that democratizing the Board of Directors (and removing executives from the Board) is a completely infeasible plan which could slow down already tedious Board decision-making processes, leave the Society open to legal liability, result in ineffective communication between Executives and the Board, and delay funding approvals for student initiatives, clubs and services.” SUS VP Academic Alexandra Mircescu also described the initiative as a “utopian fantasy campaign,” arguing that the proposed change to faculty association governance structures ultimately “fails to address any of the pressing issues with SSMU which are impacting students right now.” In the past week, McGill administration has also threatened to sever its Memorandum of Agreement with SSMU in protest of its democratically voted-upon Palestine Solidarity Policy, jeopardizing the union’s ability to exist in the way it currently does. 

Ultimately, it’s unclear whether any solutions could save the crumbling student unions across Canada. At some point along the way, we lost sight of what was really important: the students that elected candidates are meant to represent. Student government is meant to be a form of institutional support for the interests and well-being of students on university campuses – instead, it’s become a site of toxicity and bureaucracy, and countless students across the country have been harmed by their student unions’ politics and processes. It’s hard to not be pessimistic, but students across Canada have come to expect corruption over change, and it doesn’t look like things will change anytime soon. 

The post The State of the Union appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Tonnesen spoke to the Daily last week, at the beginning of the Floor Fellows’ strike against the university and in light of the administration’s meagre wage offerings and refusal to reach a collective agreement. Harm reduction in residence, Tonnesen explained, has been a key focus of the strike. “We’re really just trying to get to the root of why [they decided] to, in recent years, take a harder stance on drugs and an even harder stance on alcohol.” Tonnesen references the strict rules regarding alcohol and drug consumption that can be found in the Residence Handbook, which bar students from consuming alcohol in public spaces such as common areas, limiting open alcohol to private areas like residents’ rooms, or, in the case of Solin Hall, apartments. The handbook also prohibits “mass consumption,” only referencing drinking games, and specifies that residents can be sanctioned with a verbal or written warning, or Residence Probation. The Residence Handbook fails to specify the details of Residence Probation, only citing the reasons a student may be placed on it and clarifying that, if violated, there may be an escalation of a disciplinary case.

“That only got worse in 2020–2021, it’s the COVID year. So on top of all these rules, we also get a new rule that says if you don’t open the door to someone who knocks, you can be subject to disciplinary action under the Student Conduct Code. It was essentially in response to students who maybe had one other person in their room not opening the door out of fear of being disciplined. And so then they’re like, oh, we need some way to get into these kids’ rooms […] They basically took the Student Disciplinary Code and said, how can we morph this to where you have to obey authority in order for us to be able to check that you’re not breaking the rules?”

The Community Living Standards (CLS) outlined in the Residence Handbook make it so that students are confined to their rooms if they want to consume alcohol, something that was virtually impossible to do with others during the pandemic, particularly during the 2020–2021 year, where no guests were allowed whatsoever. And during the strictest period of guest policy implementation, the alcohol-related section of the Student Conduct Code was enforced strongly: “No more drinking in any space that is not your room, period. No drinking games within residence, period. No socialized drinking events in the residence, period. And finally, we are limiting the size of the bottles you can bring into residence to be a certain size.” With no guests allowed in rooms, including guests from within the same residence, this meant that students were forced either to drink alone, to drink secretly, or to leave residence and drink in other spaces.

“So, of course, then you start to see the next part of students doing stuff in secret, because they’re afraid people will bust them,” Tonnesen explains. “Whereas before, if a student was drinking too much in the common room, the Floor Fellows could see it while they were on duty and keep an eye on it. Now, we only see it when it’s too late, or when the ambulance shows up, which is rough and pretty much anti-harm reduction.” This attitude was the opposite of what many Floor Fellows took the job expecting, especially those that joined prior to the implementation of this policy, who experienced things like floor teas with alcohol and residence parties hosted by the Inter-Residence Council, featuring alcohol with a ticket. “It’s not that drinking was encouraged, but it’s like the opportunity was there, and we were treating you like an adult making adult decisions.” The pushback in recent years has made McGill residences more difficult to consume alcohol in, ultimately making things less safe for the very students in residence McGill claims to protect through its draconian policies.

Students being forced to consume “illicit” materials in secret has, unsurprisingly, proved dangerous. In one such case, students found fentanyl in their drugs after testing, and when Floor Fellows reported the incident to staff, they were told that McGill would only send out a vague and generalized memo concerning fentanyl in supplies in the city, rather than specifying where and with what drug the incident took place. Floor Fellows also asked for drug testing kits to help keep their residents safe, but McGill refused. Floor Fellows were told that providing drug testing kits would be a tacit admission of drug use in residence – McGill administration was not willing to face that reality, preferring instead to prioritize its image over the safety of its students. 

It’s hard to trace exactly when the McGill administration shifted its attitude toward substance use in residence, but Tonnesen believes it was after the legalization of marijuana in October 2018. “McGill had what one could say was a knee-jerk reaction,” Tonnesen explains, “and they essentially said, kids can smoke now, how can we relate that to us?” According to Tonnesen, McGill originally planned to not allow for possession of marijuana anywhere on campus. After acknowledging the illegality of that demand, the university instead decided to make it so that students could own marijiana but could not consume marijuana in residence. “I was like, even sprays or gummies or anything? And they said no, no drugs. And we said, okay, that’s kind of against everything we stand for. But sure.”

McGill banning all marijuana consumption in residence, and strictly enforcing this rule, forces students to go off campus to experiment with drugs. Not only this, but McGill demands a medical certificate for the consumption of marijuana on its properties – something practically unheard of in Montreal – and impossible to obtain for someone using cannabis for common medical needs, such as to help with cramps or nausea. Consuming marijuana can be a negative experience for some people, especially when consumed in an unfamiliar or uncomfortable environment. These restrictions put students in a situation where they are unable to experiment in a safe space, something that can have a real negative impact on students, particularly when administration knows that students will experiment with drugs during their time at university regardless of their own regulations. Being far from Floor Fellows and the safety of their own dorm can make a common university experience frightening for students.

The Residence Handbook’s regulations regarding possession of “drug paraphernalia” further stigmatizes relatively innocuous recreational drug use, particularly of marijuana. The handbook states, “Possession and storage of drug paraphernalia in residence is prohibited. This includes bongs, pipes, vaporizers, and any other device associated with the consumption and usage of drugs,” and “consumption of an illegal drug or non-prescribed medication will result in residence sanctions.” This means that students are entirely unable to store items used for consumption of drugs, even if those students are not intending to use those drugs in residence. Under this definition, drug testing kits would be considered “drug paraphernalia” as they are “associated with the consumption and usage of drugs.” McGill has therefore created an environment where students cannot be sure that they can keep materials that would ensure their safety should they choose to consume drugs, thereby endangering students’ lives and wellbeing. 

Tonnesen notes that there’s no clear way students can know what types and styles of sanctions they may receive upon violation of the Community Living Standards: “That depends on the RLM [Residence Life Manager] you talk to. There’s no set standard for that.” The Residence Handbook lists a variety of disciplinary measures, which all have vague definitions. For instance, two of the sanctions are named “Community Repair” and “Educational Sanction,” with one suggesting  that a student may be made to make “promotional materials to raise awareness” and the other suggesting “educational posters” be made by the student being disciplined -– the lack of clear differentiation between these types of “educational sanctions” demonstrates the vagueness of McGill’s policy regarding disciplinary measures. The section also explains that RLMs may choose to enforce “Discretionary Sanctions,” which could include “room reallocation, access restrictions, restitution damages, or fines.” For students found to be violating a policy that either directly or indirectly relates to COVID-19 policies, their case will be managed under the McGill Code of Conduct disciplinary process instead of by their RLM, creating further confusion about the complaints process and a lack of clear standardization of sanctions. The policy does not make clear which of these sanctions qualifies “Residence Probation,” as mentioned elsewhere in the Handbook. 

Tonnesen believes that this has led to a “very toxic culture” in McGill residence, particularly in regards to regulations that he states technically require him to report any violation of the Community Living Standards to higher-ups: “There was another rule that came out […] it said, hey, if you’re a residence student, and you see someone breaking these rules, or have an object [for example, bongs or pipes] and you don’t report it, you could also be liable then if it gets found out. So, essentially, snitch or you could get in trouble.” Tonnesen believes that this has contributed to an environment of fear in residences, where students are afraid of the sanctions they might face should they not report drug usage in residence. He notes that, “We have this culture, then, of fear of drugs, which works in McGill’s favour, of course, because for them the less drugs in residence the better. That means less liability that they have to hold on to.”

“For Floor Fellows, though, it puts us in a really rough position,” Tonnesen explains, shedding some light on how hard it has been for those charged with protecting students throughout this period of strict drug and alcohol policy. “How am I supposed to take a harm reduction approach when my students are scared to talk to me because they’re afraid I’ll narc on them to my boss?,” Tonnesen asks, making clear how badly the policies have harmed the relationships between Floor Fellows and the residents they care for. Floor Fellows reportedly miss the days before these policies, where there was a more transparent culture and communication of trust in residences. “There was an open culture of, I might be doing drugs, and I want you to know about it,” Tonnesen explains. “Floor Fellows at that point weren’t restricted. We were like, okay, you can talk to me about doing drugs. I can talk to you about ways to do it safely, and perhaps share our own experiences about that.”

It’s important to remember that it is not just the student residents who have been harmed by these policies. It is also the Floor Fellows who have had their job expectations completely turned around by the anti-harm reductionist framework McGill has decided to work under. “It’s something Floor Fellows have to be really careful about – how they do the messaging for now. We have to say, listen, I want to support you, but obviously if you come to me and are like, Christian, I’m going to do coke later, I may or may not have to tell my boss that someone’s going to do an illegal substance in residence, which is pretty dangerous […] Telling me puts me in a weird position of either I break the rules and don’t tell my boss and I support the student, or I have to tell my boss and potentially make quite a difficult relationship with a student who might not trust me.” Students can no longer rely on their Floor Fellows in the ways they could before – McGill has harmed that relationship. 

Ultimately, McGill’s policies make things dangerous for student residents and for students working as Floor Fellows. It’s no secret that drug use is prevalent in universities – it’s estimated that about 54 per cent of McGill students will at least try marijuana during their time at university, and studies by institutes such as the Higher Education Policy Institute consistently demonstrate that students will participate in illicit drug use during their college years. It is not about whether or not students will take drugs during their time at McGill – they will – but it is up to McGill whether or not they want to put students in danger while they consume. Right now, McGill’s intense desire to not be held liable for drug use on campus creates a “culture of fear” in residence, according to Tonnesen, and this makes residence life unsafe for both student residents and Floor Fellows working to supervise them.

Tonnesen would like to correct that, after checking records, the CCL was first issued around 2018, and not 2010.

The post “We only see it when it’s too late, or when the ambulance shows up” appeared first on The McGill Daily.

It’s a well-known fact at McGill that administration has consistently failed survivors in the disclosure and reporting process of sexual assault. In recent months, the McGill administration has attempted to give student organizations a seat at the table, principally through the involvement in a January 24 collaborative roundtable between the Office for Sexual Violence Response, Support and Education (OSVRSE) and the McGill chapter of It’s On Us, a campus organization that seeks to educate students about sexual violence. Though events such as these are a meaningful way for students to communicate their concerns directly to those in charge of protecting the student body, the utter lack of institutional change from McGill administration and repeated instances of survivors being harmed by McGill’s poorly implemented policies prove that we are a long way from seeing real change. The Daily spoke with a survivor about their negative experience reporting their sexual assault to administration, and learned more from the president of It’s On Us McGill about their panel and discussions with the McGill administration. 

Alice* reported her sexual assault to McGill in 2020, before the pandemic. Alice believes that due to COVID-19, her case “fell through the cracks,” as her OSVRSE-assigned counsellor told her she did not have time to see her anymore. Nobody at the university was able to provide support to Alice once she left Quebec due to laws concerning out-of-province health care, something that was not made clear to Alice before she left. When we asked Alice if she was directed toward other resources or people to try and contact for support once OSVRSE was unable to provide services, she said, “No, they didn’t give me any other resources.” 

OSVRSE was formed in 2016 under the Office of the Dean of Students, in order to help implement the newly-instated McGill Policy Against Sexual Violence. However, students have voiced concerns that the office is over-burdened and under-funded, leading to a lack of accessibility for students in need. Currently located at 550 Sherbrooke, the office is difficult to find and difficult to access within the building. “The building itself has, like, three elevators, and they all go to different floors,” Alice explained. “I can’t imagine trying to navigate that if you’re in distress.” While it’s beneficial to have OSVRSE’s office in a discreet location, there is no reason for the office to be so complicated to access, with limited information about how to enter the office if an individual uses a wheelchair or has accessibility concerns. McGill administration owes OSVRSE more in order for the staff to be better prepared to equip students. 

Isabella Kalarickal, President of It’s On Us McGill, highlighted how students are having to provide services that the administration is incapable of providing. “Although I am grateful It’s On Us can help the student body by compiling their concerns and questions and relaying it to the administration, at the end of the day, we are fulfilling a need the university is not providing for,” she explained. Kalarickal also noted that the roundtable event organized with OSVRSE was ultimately a way for It’s On Us to do the labour of engaging students, while the administration does little else to prove their commitment to survivors on campus. Kalarickal pointed out, “It is the university’s responsibility to communicate with their students and provide them with a space to voice their frustrations, needs, and suggestions. We are volunteering to do this, but it’s frustrating to see little action other than the panel event, and no move to address students directly.”

At the panel, administration responded to questions from students about where to find support, pointing toward services like OSVRSE and SACCOMS (Sexual Assault Centre of the McGill Students’ Society), which can help with mental health support during the reporting process. However, Alice found it difficult to be connected to these resources, and highlighted how students are only able to find resources after an assault, rather than being educated about where to go for support from the beginning of their time at university. “Finding the resources themselves was really difficult. I had no idea who to reach out to or where to reach out when it happened,” commented Alice. “OSVRSE, I felt like, was survivor-centric, but limited because of the resources that they have. They have no resources. They really actually can’t make the changes that they want to make.” 

In contrast to Alice’s experience with reporting, Dean of Students Robin Beech claimed resources are easy to access and provided to all students. According to administration, moreover, there is a standard support package provided to all students who report an assault, and students will be communicated with in order to reduce the risk of seeing their abuser on campus. “They communicated to me that there was something that I thought was quite good, something where they make sure you don’t run into your abuser on campus,” Alice explained. “But I have seen multiple abusers at University events, even after being red-flagged. I don’t think that the organizers check. I don’t think that the administration puts it on the organizers to check.”

Alice’s experience raises an issue with regard to Quebec privacy laws, which dictate an accused person’s right to privacy and anonymity throughout the reporting process. At the panel discussion, Deputy Provost Fabrice Lebau explained that the university is bound by a lot of rules and laws about privacy. Beech suggested that because the sexual violence policy centres the survivor, releasing the outcome of a disciplinary case would put the survivor front and centre, thereby endangering them further. Beech’s suggestion speaks for survivors, and it does not acknowledge that most survivors on campus do not wish for the intimate details of their cases to be publicly shared but rather that their abuser be kept from attending the same campus events as them with a policy similar to the SSMU’s Involvement Restriction Policy (IRP). 

The legal constraints that administration refers to come from a policy known as the “code of silence,” adopted in 2017 by the Quebec National Assembly, which makes something even as basic as an IRP-style list unlikely to happen. The code of silence makes it so that CEGEP and university administrations cannot publicly share the sanctions imposed on an abuser on campus – or even reveal whether or not sanctions were imposed in the first place. Past VP University Affairs Brooklyn Frizzle notes that “this code of silence is another example of how the institution protects the aggressor while keeping the survivor in the dark.” 

Alice has seen her abuser on campus several times since reporting her case, but her most recent interactions with on-campus support has demonstrated that administration doesn’t care. Nobody checked in with Alice during the period between her reporting her case and now: “No one reached out to me, but I reached out to someone maybe two months ago or last month. I told them I needed some extra support with my academics, because I was seeing my abuser around campus a lot and it was really difficult for me to deal with. So I told them, ‘Hey, please can you make some sort of accommodation for me? Can you reach out to my professors and tell them I need more time?’ And they said because I already have accommodations with the OSD for my disability, sending the email won’t make a difference.” When Alice asked OSVRSE to email her professors on her behalf, they suggested that she email her professors herself. “I wasn’t comfortable talking about that with my professors,” Alice explained. 

The McGill administration fails to support survivors – and Quebec’s privacy laws don’t change that. In many cases, survivors simply want McGill to support them through their experience, by providing academic and mental health accommodations to help them deal with their trauma. At the panel discussion, Beech suggested that if an abuser was sent to his office a second time for breaking the Student Code of Conduct, it would be flagged “so a second incident would be taken much more seriously.” Kalarickal found this sentiment disturbing: “Any incident of sexual violence, whether it is a repeat offender or not, should be taken equally seriously and the perpetrator should be held accountable. Someone’s trauma is not mitigated by whether or not their perpetrator has a history.” 

Administration’s recent attempts to connect with the McGill community and demonstrate a care for survivors of sexual assault have failed because the lived experiences of survivors on campus demonstrate that the student body can’t expect to be supported by the University in the face of sexual assault. It’s On Us McGill has been having regular meetings with the administration, to help bridge the gap between admin and student voices. Per Kalarickal, however, “excluding the panel event, we have not seen any change or heard any updates from the administration,” rendering events like this panel somewhat performative. Kalarickal believes that “there needs to be a sustained effort and communication from the administration to rebuild trust within the McGill community.” Until then, there is no reason for survivors on campus to have faith that the university will support them through their trauma.

*Name changed for Anonymity

The post “No One Reached Out to Me”: A Survivor’s Experience Reporting Sexual Assault on Campus appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Life for queer Ukrainians pre-invasion

For queer Ukrainians, safety has not been guaranteed for a long time. Since Ukraine gained independence following the fall of the Soviet Union in 1991, a number of developments in Ukrainian law and society have made the country safer for queer people, though progress has often been slow and fraught with challenges for those fighting for LGBT+ rights. In 1991, Ukraine repealed criminal liability for homosexuality, and an annual Pride march is organized in Kyiv every year.

However, KyivPride, a non-governmental organization focused on campaigning for the rights of queer Ukrainians, has had trouble organizing its annual March for Equality, dealing with pushback from both conservative Ukrainian groups and from Ukrainian police. The first Equality March was planned by the group in 2012, but it was cancelled due to an alleged recommendation from Amnesty International. The planning itself was secretive, and the location was hidden from non-participants. Ultimately, however, “a large number of nationalist and religious organizations” found the march. They reportedly shouted “Out of Ukraine!’’ at participants and sprayed an aerosol in the eyes of a KyivPride organizer. 

Protests against Pride events were also held outside of parliament buildings ahead of such events in Kyiv, which consistently “passed off without any incident,” while LGBT+ protestors have, throughout the years, continually experienced violence at the hands of Ukrainian police and right-wing groups. In 2014, KyivPride’s attempts at another Equality March were once again thwarted, this time “because police were incapable of providing security to the public gathering,” failing to protect LGBT+ individuals and allies from the violence of right-wing groups. 

Amnesty International’s Head of Research (Deputy Regional Director) at the Eastern Europe and Central Asia Regional Office has historically pointed to the failings of Ukrainian police forces in protecting queer citizens. At a 2018 event in Kyiv, speakers from Amnesty International, Human Rights Watch, and KyivPride were due to speak at an event titled “The Offensive against LGBTI Rights as a Form of Censorship: The Russian experience,” but the event was cancelled before it could begin when more than 20 far-right protestors arrived and threatened participating speakers and attendees with violence until they left. While five officers from Pechersk District Police force were at the event, they refused to intervene, and additional police forces arrived more than an hour later to assist in the safe departure of event participants – without a single arrest of the offensive parties. Krivosheev noted that, “[g]iven the police’s repeated inaction over such attacks, it is no surprise that members of Ukrainian far-right groups take full advantage of their impunity – repeatedly attacking individuals and groups whose views or identity they dislike.” 

Later in 2018, gay activist Borys Zolotchenko was attacked by ten men in Kryvyi Rig and subsequently hospitalized for his injuries. According to Zolotchenko and the group of activist organizers who witnessed the attack, policemen refused to appear at the scene. Zolotchenko demanded more protection from state actors: “We must show the authorities and society that safety and equality must be accessible to all Ukrainian citizens.”

Though life in Ukraine is not always safe for LGBT+ citizens, activists have made progress in recent years by seeking more protective laws for queer people. In the last three years, turnout for Pride events in Kyiv has increased, reaching 8,000 attendees at its peak. The 2021 KyivPride event reported no incidents of violence, and President Volodymyr Zelenskyy’s campaigns have often been markedly progressive, though his cabinet has put forth conflicting messages regarding their support of queer Ukrainians. Ultimately, public opinion on LGBT+ rights in Ukraine is mixed, and the country is not typically a safe place for queer people, both regarding their existence in society and their associations with law enforcement. As citizens continue to escape the country following Russia’s invasion, queer people will be reliant on those same forces and military aid to guide them to safety, and they will face persecution from even more vicious sentiment from Putin-led Russian troops. 

Russia and Putin’s anti-gay laws

Russia’s anti-queer laws are known for being oppressive. In a 2021 poll, only 14 per cent of Russians “totally agreed” with the statement “gays and lesbians in Russia should enjoy the same rights as other citizens.” The Kremlin is known for using state-sponsored homophobia as a control strategy, and in 2013, the country passed a federal law banning “gay propaganda” by 436 to 0 votes, making it “illegal to equate straight and gay relationships, as well as the distribution of material on gay rights.” The law also “introduces fines for individuals and media groups found guilty of breaking the law, as well as special fines for foreigners,” making the country unsafe for queer people to live in and visit. 

Putin’s intended plan to annex Ukraine and install a puppet government in the country would have dire implications for LGBT+ Ukrainian citizens, who are already unsafe in their country. When Putin announced the invasion on Febuary 24 as a “special military operation,” he spent a sizable amount of time commenting on the perceived threat to “traditional values.” He addressed the “fundamental threats which irresponsible Western politicians created for Russia,” commenting on how “they sought to destroy our traditional values and force on us their false values that would erode us, our people from within, the attitudes they have been aggressively imposing on their countries, attitudes that are directly leading to degradation and degeneration, because they are contrary to human nature.” 

When he speaks of “traditional values,” Putin refers to “patriotism, spirituality, rootedness in history, respect for authority, and adherence to heteronormative and patriarchal ideas of family and gender,” the Boston Review reports. Concepts that challenge the implied understanding of traditional Russian values include queer rights, as Putin has shown in his repeated human rights abuses towards queer Russians. Any appeal to the rights of LGBT+ people is viewed “not only as foreign to Russia’s values, but as existential threats to the nation.” 

Ways out: queer refugees

Should Putin be successful in his plan to install a pro-Kremlin puppet government in Ukraine, he will apply anti-queer Russian attitudes and policies towards LGBT+ Ukrainians. In the Kremlin’s federal national security strategy, it is written that “special attention is devoted to supporting the family, motherhood, fatherhood and childhood,” with the note that “higher birthrates are necessary in order to increase the population of Russia.” Putin’s security strategy includes a forcibly imposed heteropatriarchal view of the nuclear family. Those not in compliance with these identities or nuclear family structures will therefore be threatened by Putin’s rule. 

LGBT+ individuals are now making or attempting to make the journey out of Ukraine in order to escape Putin’s threats to their gender identities and sexualities. Fleeing to other countries also presents challenges, with many neighbouring countries also upholding hostile attitudes towards LGBT+ people. Many queer Ukrainians are seeking refuge in nearby Poland and Hungary, both of which have been condemned by the European Union for their anti-gay legislation. In Poland, around 100 towns – a third of all towns in the country – have legally passed resolutions declaring themselves “free of LGBT ideology,” meaning that queer Ukrainians will be forced to hide their identity at risk of severe discrimination. 

For individuals in Ukraine who are a different gender from what is marked on their legal identification documents, leaving the country has proven difficult. With conscription in force, any individual identified as male by their identification documents will be made to stay in the country and join the Ukrainian army, even if that individual is not and has not been living as a man. For transgender individuals, being forced into the military is a profoundly dangerous process, meaning that for many people seeking refuge by fleeing the country is often the only option. 

Activists on the ground in Ukraine have found that trans people with identification documents that differ from their gender identity cannot pass internal checkpoints, essentially trapping them in the country. They also note that trans people seeking aid as a result of the invasion of Ukraine may face difficulties: “Access to food banks, shelters, and other basic essentials often requires a valid identity card. Mismatching ID documents can lead to denial of service, besides suspicion of fraud, ridicule, harassment, and violence. Fearing discrimination, a trans person might forgo their right to seek assistance.”

This has been a traumatic process for many in the transgender community, who have, in some cases, had to temporarily de-transition in order to match the gender marker on their identity documents. One transgender man commented that he “had to whisper so nobody would notice my deep voice. I even painted my nails violet and wore Mom’s shirt to look more girly.” 

Zi Faámelu spoke with CBC about her experience as a transgender woman living in Kyiv. She says there is “no way” that the Ukrainian border guards will let her through with her passport, which still has a male gender marker. “If you have a male gender in your passport, they will not let you go abroad,” Faámelu explained. “They will not let you through.” 

The process for obtaining a passport or legal documentation with a gender marker matching one’s gender identity is excruciatingly difficult for trans people in Ukraine. The government forces transgender individuals to both participate in a long process of psychiatric observation and to receive gender reassignment surgery in order to have their gender identity formally recognized on legal documentation. Many transgender people opt not to have surgery for a multitude of reasons, and a psychiatric observation can be a long and draining process that imparts undue trauma on transgender individuals. Faámelu did not participate in the process to change her passport gender marker for this very reason: “I don’t want to go through that, this is like, humiliating.”

Networks of queer people across the country and throughout the world have banded together to help individuals in situations such as this safely escape Ukraine. Julia Maciocha organises Warsaw Pride (known as Equality Parade), and has been connecting queer refugees with safe places in her country: “[W]e created a database of people that we know that are part of the community so we can match them with people that are in need of safe shelter.”

The current Executive Director of Kyiv Pride, Lenny Emson, has commended the queer communities in neighbouring countries for their immediate offers of assistance for queer Ukrainians. He expressed immense gratitude for queer friends and allies who came to his country’s aid: “I was almost crying because European organizations like Warsaw Pride, like Budapest Pride, they reached out to us like in the first day of the war, offering their help, offering shelter, offering transportation from the border.” 

How to help

The solidarity shown by queer people across the globe for LGBT+ Ukrainians has been immense. Once more, queer people find themselves reliant on the support networks they have built in the absence of targeted support from governments, who fail to recognize the nature of the danger faced by queer refugees. 

For every person living in Ukraine, Putin’s invasion has enacted immense harm and suffering. For queer Ukrainians, who have already faced danger in their country, however, the task of leaving the country can be nearly impossible. Directly supporting queer Ukrainian organizations is an important way to assist queer refugees in their struggles to leave the country. Fulcrum is a Ukrainian organization based around supporting queer Ukrainians, and their website contains details on how to support Ukrainians financially as they attempt to find safe spaces to shelter and exit their country. Insight is another Ukrainian organisation that is collecting funds to help LGBT+ Ukrainians in vulnerable positions, and donations can be made through a variety of channels. As well as this, supporting global activists in their organization efforts helps drive the coordination of safe housing and refuge for those leaving Ukraine. For more information, stay up to date with LGBT+ news sources, which are sharing stories from queer Ukrainians and the global effort to get them to safety.

The post Queer in Ukraine appeared first on The McGill Daily.

I have had anxiety for so long, I had sort of forgotten what it feels like to not have it. To experience the lack of anxiety I have had this week is beyond words.” This is what Thomas Hartle said when he became the first Canadian to be granted legal permission to consume psilocybin – a psychedelic compound found in “magic mushrooms” – for medical purposes. Following a terminal cancer diagnosis in 2016, Hartle had struggled with the existential dread he felt regarding the end of his life, until he became one of the first individuals in Canada to be granted a section 56 exemption to the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act for the consumption of psilocybin. Granted to only a handful of people, this act allows individuals to be provided with access to a controlled substance for medical reasons under strict governmental regulations – this is the only way that patients like Hartle have been able to benefit from psychedelic therapies in Canada. Psilocybin treatment has been successful in improving the mental wellbeing of patients like Hartle who suffer from serious illness, as well as for mood disorders and other mental health conditions. This success is evidence that a better standard of care is available for patients, if only we can get over the stigma preventing doctors from accessing it. 

Psilocybin is a psychedelic compound found in different types of fungi. Throughout history, these psychedelic mushrooms have been used in a significant number of ceremonial traditions, as well as being a highly respected material in Ancient Egypt, where consumption of mushrooms was reserved for the priesthood and upper classes. Psilocybin has also been used for ritual purposes in modern history, with early research from R. Gordon Wasson in the 1950s examining the use of the fungi by Indigenous communities in the Oaxaca region of southern Mexico, a practice that was thought to have died out hundreds of years ago. This speaks to the significance of psilocybin throughout world history as a ceremonially and spiritually meaningful substance, and shows the ways in which psilocybin was historically received before mass stigmatisation of the mushroom. 

As knowledge of the properties of psilocybin spread throughout the late 1950s and early 1960s, pharmaceutical companies, doctors, and legislative entities began to show interest in magic mushrooms, in terms of both benefits and potential risks associated with use. In 1958, chemist Albert Hofmann isolated the active ingredients from magic mushrooms, synthesized the compounds and sold them to Sandoz pharmaceuticals, marking the beginning of corporate involvement with psilocybin.

Projects to learn more about psilocybin continued, with medical professionals such as psychologist Timothy Leary travelling to Mexico to participate in ceremonial use. Working with spiritual leader Ram Dass, Leary founded the Harvard Psilocybin Project, a research project conducted on Harvard graduate students that sought to examine the effects of magic mushrooms on human consciousness. Despite an absence of laws preventing use of psilocybin at the time, ethical concerns halted the study in 1963, though not before large research institutions had taken an interest in the fungi, paving the way for future research.

The hope for psychedelic therapies becoming seriously helpful to patients was borne from the counterculture of the 1960s, which saw an increase in use of psychedelic drugs and substances. However, this hope was ultimately tarnished by the war on drugs in the 1970s, which resulted in the mass incarceration of millions of people, the majority of which being racialized communities and particularly Black people.  The psilocybin molecule responsible for psychoactive effects was banned by the Nixon administration, meaning that labs and pharmaceutical companies researching the synthesized compounds for medical use were unable to continue research. This set back research on psilocybin care by decades, with the next study on psilocybin not taking place until almost 30 years later, in 1997. It is only in very recent years that research has ramped up again, with institutions like the University of Toronto and Johns Hopkins investing more in psychedelic substance research, and the FDA granting permission for study of psilocybin for depression. 

There are years of lost ground to make up for in the emerging field of psychedelic research. The war on drugs has withheld psychedelic treatment options from millions of individuals that may have benefited from psychedelic therapy, and has resulted in further stigma surrounding the ancient use of psychedelic fungi in ceremonial practices. As modern research institutions re-engage with the study of psychedelic medicines, it is crucial that Indigenous use of psychedelic substances be respected and considered, and that researchers are cognizant of the impact of Indigenous use of psilocybin throughout history. As noted in the Journal of Psychedelic Studies, “the [I]ndigenous use of psychedelics cannot be mapped on to modern geographic and national boundaries. Rather, its history should be considered tied to a broader community of [I]ndigenous practices across North, Central, and South Americas that were ultimately appropriated primarily by Western clinicians and scientists.” Work by researchers like R. Gordon Wasson has been crucial for expanding psilocybin research, but future researchers should recognize that the knowledge imparted to Wasson came from Sabina, a ceremonial leader sharing the sacred practices of her Mazatec culture. Erasing figures like Sabina from the history of psychedelic research further distances sacred medicines like psilocybin from their ceremonial use, and contributes to the harms of Western imperialism. 

As psilocybin research continues, professionals must consider the most appropriate way to deliver psychedelic care. TheraPsil is a Canadian organization pushing for medical access to psilocybin, primarily focused on representing Canadians seeking psilocybin use for end of life care. The organization advocates for “the professionally guided use of psilocybin (magic mushrooms) in combination with psychotherapy,” and promotes a “clinically tested treatment program” that focuses on “careful medical oversight of the medicine session, as well as intention setting and integration psychotherapy sessions (without psilocybin) that help prepare an individual for lasting healing.” The focus, from TheraPsil’s standpoint, is on providing long-lasting care programs that work in association with psilocybin use for proven results. 

Over 55 Canadians have obtained section 56 exemptions to allow legal use, possessions and transportation of magic mushrooms for psilocybin therapy. This number is an immense achievement, with TheraPsil being one of the only Canadian organizations lobbying for psilocybin to be made legal for medical use. However, the organization also notes that they are attempting to help many more Canadians that have been left without an answer from Federal Health Minister Patty Hajdu regarding their potential approval for psilocybin use. They report frustration with the system, explaining that the current method of approval restricts patients from choosing psychedelic care with approval from their healthcare provider, instead allowing patients’ medical care to be left to “ad-hoc exemptions granted by a politician,” according to the October 14 newsletter. 

“While beneficial to open the door to compassionate access,” TheraPsil notes, “section 56 exemptions granted on a case-by-case basis are not a sustainable model to offer healthcare – ” TheraPsil asserts that some patients have now been waiting for over 200 days for a verdict from the Minister of Health. This means that while some compassionate care is approved, the bureaucracy of the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act ultimately prevents patients from receiving potentially beneficial care. As TheraPsil argues, “section 56 exemptions are arbitrary, discriminatory, and infringe upon patients section 15 charter rights – ” it is time for upheaval of the Controlled Drugs and Substances Act instead of the slow process of granting exemptions.   

Realistically, section 56 exemptions represent a very small number of therapeutic psilocybin users in Canada. The vast majority of approved exemptions have been for palliative care, particularly for those experiencing “end of life distress,” the “psychological complex of extreme anxiety, depression, hopelessness and demoralization that can occur when a patient is diagnosed with an incurable illness or is receiving palliative care.” Psilocybin has helped a large number of patients ease their end of life distress, however the long and uncertain process of being granted an exemption is disheartening for many individuals. In a similar fashion to the lengthy period of proposed Bill C-7 alterations of the Criminal Code to change the criteria for Medical Assistance in Dying (MAiD), vulnerable people are left in the dark with prolonged periods of silence regarding the future of their care. As well as cases like these, there are large numbers of individuals using psilocybin for non-terminal medical reasons, and these individuals face barriers to accessing the substance, given the illegality and the lack of information regarding safe consumption. Individuals must therefore buy from dealers or online, meaning they must place their trust in these individual vendors rather than in a regulated system. This creates understandable trepidation for many individuals that might benefit from psilocybin use but who would prefer to only purchase from a government-regulated system. 

In a letter to Federal Health Minister Patty Hajdu, TheraPsil argues that “regulated access is not only important but also urgent because Canadians are already using psilocybin for therapeutic purposes.” Instagram account @realdrugstories posts submissions of individuals’ experiences with different substances. Users have submitted their experiences with psychedelic substances on the account: “I had struggled with trauma memories and intrusive thoughts for over 10 years […] I had contemplated suicide numerous times and came close twice. I suffered alone and even my therapists couldn’t help me to combat these thoughts. Using cannabis and mushrooms has literally changed my entire life […] for over six years I have experienced internal peace and I am free from experiencing the debilitating effects of the thoughts. I did not intend to use cannabis or mushrooms for this reason, I used it for recreational purposes however it literally changed my life.” 

An individual such as this would not be approved for a section 56 exemption, as thus far the criterion for this exemption has been a terminal illness diagnosis. However, the individual’s mentions of suicidal thoughts and claims that psilocybin changed their life is testament to the life-saving potential of the substance, and proof that the substance could be used for individuals suffering from long-term depression, including treatment-resistant depression and other complex mental health issues. Leaving psilocybin off the table as a treatment option for these mental health concerns is illogical, given the inclination of doctors to prescribe antidepressants and opioids to individuals suffering from similar concerns. Both of these medications have long lists of side effects as well as serious risks of addiction, whereas psilocybin has “extremely low toxicity” with practically no deaths attributed to the drug, according to the Drug Policy Alliance (DPA). The DPA also notes that ongoing epidemiological studies are showing lower rates of mental health disorders and suicide amongst psilocybin users – in contrast with the increased addiction and death rates of individuals over-prescribed legal opioids in the US. 

The DPA argues that the risks from psilocybin are “dependent on set and setting” rather than toxicity, and “the consequences of negative or challenging experiences can be minimised by education and awareness of psilocybin’s effects.” Unfortunately, it is difficult to access educational resources regarding psilocybin, especially due to the illegality of the substance and the subsequent hesitation to have open discussions about how to use and where to source. One anonymous individual speaking with the Daily notes, “microdosing is something I’m willing to try, even though it’s not legal, because [my mental health issue] is so bad I’m kind of desperate. I’m only hesitant because I don’t have anyone to sit with while I try it, and I don’t know where is safe to procure it from, and I know that hesitation makes it more likely to go wrong.” Individuals who could seriously benefit from low-risk use of psilocybin are unable to guarantee their safety in use – the Canadian government’s inability to recognise the urgency of regulated access is contributing to this danger. 

Psilocybin use for recreational and medicinal purposes is potentially as old as mankind itself. Stigma surrounding use of the substance is not. The man-made perception of psilocybin as a dangerous drug incapable of medical or therapeutic benefit is an archaic product of Nixon’s war on drugs, and it is time for governments and medical professionals to do better in offering therapeutic psychedelic alternatives for medicine in a regulated way. Individuals can look to TheraPsil for more information regarding section 56 exemptions for Canadians and to sign onto their petitions and letters. You can find examples of real lived experiences with drugs and substances from @realdrugstories, and information regarding drug policy from the Canadian Students for Sensible Drug Policy. For individuals located in Montreal, local organization@makingdrugsmoreaccurate can be found on Instagram, where testing kits can be ordered and delivered within 48 hours. Supporting the work of TheraPsil also advances treatment options for Canadians, and individuals can follow templates on their website to contact local MPs regarding psilocybin legalization as well as donate to the organization.

The post The Potential of Psychedelic Therapies appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Despite the roaring success of “Old Town Road,” Lil Nas X remained elusive to the public until he came out during Pride month 2019, announcing the news via a Tweet. “Some of y’all already know, some of y’all don’t care, some of y’all not gone fwm no more. but before this month ends i want y’all to listen closely to c7osure,” the rapper tweeted, including a rainbow emoji with his post. His studio album gives fans a much more intimate look at his identity both as a queer man and as a musician, perhaps in an attempt to perform his own story rather than create a line of open communication with fans concerning his identity. 

While not the only theme of the album, Lil Nas X’s sexuality is certainly a notable feature. “Void” is a letter to his earlier self, beginning with “Hello, old friend from the road/I wanted to write a note,” a familiar opener that reminds listeners of the many confessional notes-app tweets that the artist has addressed to fans, as well as a nod to his earlier single “Old Town Road.” Lyrics like “See, I’m getting tired of the way I’ve been living/I’d rather die than to live with these feelings” reference the artist’s prayers to God to rid him of gay thoughts. He also candidly references men he’s seeing in “Scoop (feat. Doja Cat):” “I ain’t talking guns when I ask where your dick at,” which makes for an upbeat, raunchy song showing Lil Nas X revelling in a joyful and public display of queerness. 

Rolling Stone has branded the album’s lyrics as “confessional,” although Lil Nas X shares more about the struggles of seeking commercial success than he does about struggling with his sexuality. In a 2020 interview, the artist spoke on his decision to not explore his sexuality in his music as much as other themes, focusing on the burden of responsibility: “I 100 per cent want to represent the LGBT community […] [but] I don’t want to encourage them to do something they don’t 100 per cent want to do. Especially in, like, middle school or high school. Because it’s just super hard.” 

Montero as a whole dedicates more time to Lil Nas X’s commitment to success, and is especially focused on the gravity of his decision to leave college and pursue music full time. Lil Nas X writes in “Dead Right Now” about his father’s warnings as he began his career: “He said ‘it’s one in a million chance, son,’ I told him ‘Daddy, I am that one.’” These lines feel in conversation with the later song “Tales of Dominica,” where Lil Nas X writes: “Hope my little bit of hope don’t fade away/I’ve been living on an island made from faith.”

As listeners, we are able to glean into Lil Nas X’s determination to battle the hardships that accompany his commitment. In “Dead Right Now” Lil Nas X emphasises how high stakes success was for him: “If I didn’t blow I would’ve died tryna be here/If it didn’t go, suicide, wouldn’t be here.” This continues, in “Sun Goes Down:” the artist writes “I wanna run away/Don’t wanna lie, I don’t want a life/Send me a gun and I’ll see the sun/I’d rather run away.”

Related to this is Lil Nas X’s relationship with his family, something that he has previously  only minimally touched on – but Montero feels like a diary, bringing his audience closer to him than ever before. In past statements, Lil Nas X has briefly mentioned a turbulent relationship with his mother due to addiction. In “Dead Right Now,” Lil Nas X writes “My momma told me that she love me, don’t believe her/When she get drunk, she hit me up, man with a fever.” Listeners were quick to misinterpret, accusing Lil Nas X of not helping his mother enough, which forced the artist’s father to take to Instagram and share that “@lilnasx is the greatest kid a parent can be BLESSED with. Although his mom is in a struggle with an addiction she’s STILL a QUEEN and he goes through great lengths to make sure we’re taken care of.”

The lyrics, and the subsequent efforts of Lil Nas X’s father to support him, reveal more of his personal life than has been shared before. However, Lil Nas X has not compromised on the quality of his music, still committing to a genre-bending, eclectic artistry that feels distinctly him. Sitting at “an impressively eclectic sweet spot between hip hop and pop,” the album is an amalgamation of genres that are ultimately linked by the artist’s unique lyricism and catchy melodies. 

The album ends on a jewel: “Am I Dreaming (featuring Miley Cyrus).” The song is a masterpiece, building on previous tracks that have unpacked Lil Nas X’s journey to the top. Conversely, this track focuses more on the struggles which artists — particularly those who have explored their sexuality in a public manner — face once they’ve achieved success. The second Lil Nas X track to features Miley Cyrus, a perfect choice as a queer musician who has faced years of criticism for her own sexuality. The lyrics look at the pain that comes with public scrutiny: “Tears running dry, shattered inside, but I still gotta smile/As I’m sinking, I relive the story/Glitter comes off, battered and blue, but I gotta go on/As I’m singing, I rewrite my story.” Speaking to a shared experience, the song forces listeners to consider the ways in which young queer artists are heralded as role models and held to impossibly high standards.

Montero is one of the most beautiful, soul-baring albums of our generation. Revealing a side of Lil Nas X which the public has never seen before, the 40-minute album is a long diary entry that invites listeners to meet Montero Lamar Hill. Musically complex, this album is evidence that Lil Nas X will continue to be one of the defining genre-bending musicians of our generation. Summing it up himself in “Industry Baby,” Lil Nas X takes a moment to throw his success in the faces of those who said he wouldn’t make it big: “And this one is for the champions/I ain’t lost since I began, yeah/Funny how you said it was the end, yeah/Then I went did it again, yeah.”

The post From Montero Lamar Hill to Lil Nas X: ‘Montero’ Reveals the Man Behind the Artist appeared first on The McGill Daily.

While the opioid epidemic continues to ravage communities, the Sackler family remains one of the richest families in the world, with a September 1 bankruptcy settlement absolving them from any long-term blame or accountability for their role in the crisis. The settlement, approved by federal Judge Robert Drain, grants immunity to the Sackler family in any future opioid-related lawsuits, while simultaneously marketing meagre payouts for those affected as a “solution” to the years of pain and suffering the family has caused. While it may seem as though one of America’s richest families has narrowly avoided prosecution, the Sacklers have spent more than a quarter of a century profiting from opioid addiction and deaths – all while keeping themselves at an arm’s length from legal matters concerning the drug and Purdue Pharma. At the end of it all, the Sacklers will still remain one of America’s wealthiest families. This begs the question: how did they manage that?

It is crucial to note that the Sackler family’s ability to absolve themselves of any blame and responsibility in the opioid crisis is not a last-minute stroke of luck. Rather, it is the success of years of calculated manoeuvres that set the family up for long-term financial security and minimal legal accountability. The three most central figures in the family are Arthur, Mortimer and Raymond Sackler, who bought pharmaceutical company Purdue-Frederick in 1952. While Mortimer and Raymond took responsibility for Purdue itself, Arthur became the biggest name in the new field of medical advertising. This connection would be a key foundation for the massive amounts of marketing that Purdue Pharma would go on to do for OxyContin. While Arthur Sackler died in 1987 and OxyContin production did not start until 1995, his widow Jillian’s claims that he should be removed from any discussion of the opioid crisis are purposely ignorant of his contributions to Purdue’s investment in medical advertising. “Where his brothers built their reputation manufacturing and selling pharmaceuticals, Arthur Sackler gained his business renown by promoting them,” Christopher Rowland writes in The Washington Post.

While the opiod epidemic continues to ravage communities, the Sackler family remains one of richest families in the world.

This is the cornerstone of Purdue Pharma’s identity: relentless advertising and marketing to healthcare professionals. Arthur Sackler helped build that identity by becoming a leading expert in the field of medical advertising, while Raymond and Mortimer Sackler used their clinical expertise alongside this foundation to launch OxyContin into the big leagues of prescription pain medication. Though Arthur died before the release of the drug itself, he was no doubt a key contributor to the corporate culture of malicious over-advertising for profit. Jillian Sackler’s desire to protect her late husband’s name is a subtle yet downright offensive way of overwriting the ways in which the Sackler family has organized to protect their financial interests from the very beginning of their business ventures. 

It is the precedent of overzealous marketing to healthcare professionals that really launched the opioid epidemic in the late ‘90s and early 2000s. Between 1996 and 2001, Purdue hosted over 5,000 pharmacists, physicians and nurses in attractive, all-expenses-paid symposiums, where healthcare professionals were trained liberally in the benefits of prescribing OxyContin. These symposiums, held often in “popular sunbelt vacation sites,” played an active role in healthcare professionals’ willingness to over prescribe medication. While most clinicians who attended these symposiums believed that enticing trips “would not alter their prescribing patterns,” researchers Orlowski and Wateska have compiled data to prove the contrary, arguing that attending events such as these leads to “a significant increase in the prescribing patterns” of the drugs being discussed during the conference. 

Another incredibly sinister aspect of Purdue Pharma’s marketing scheme regarding OxyContin was its abuse of data from physicians around the US in order to concretely target certain communities.  Using physician data, executives were able to identify which doctors prescribed the most opioids, then target those clinicians with more advertising. While Purdue Pharma and Sackler family members claim this was to identify “physicians with large numbers of chronic pain patients,” the database also identifies “which physicians were simply the most frequent prescribers of opioids and, in some cases, the least discriminate prescribers.” Ultimately, Purdue weaponised large amounts of physical health data to maximise their sales reach, with no real regard for the patients at the centre of it all. 

The other factors that increased OxyContin sales in terms of marketing were a “lucrative bonus system” for sales representatives, a patient coupon program for a free month-long prescription of the medication, and the distribution of promotional items. While the average sales representative’s salary for the company in 2001 was US $55,000, Purdue was paying out an average bonus of $71,500, with a cumulative $40 million paid out in bonuses to sales reps in that year alone, blatantly displaying the company’s impetus to keep their sales reps selling vast quantities of OxyContin. The message that OxyContin had a “less than one per cent risk of addiction,” a statistic based on studies that have since been disputed, was disseminated across the country through sales representatives. The coupon program allowed for patients to receive a free prescription of OxyContin for a full month, and when the program was ended in 2001, over 34,000 coupons had been redeemed. While it’s not uncommon for pharmaceutical companies to send branded merchandise to doctors, a plethora of stuffed toys, CDs, and clothing hit medical professionals desks, an “unprecedented” level of merchandising for such a medication, according to the Drug Enforcement Administration. 

This is nothing short of conscious manipulation of medical professionals for profit, and there is a strong case that Purdue Pharma, and specifically members of the Sackler family, knew the drug to be significantly more addictive and risky than described in their advertising. This level of marketing and manipulation could only happen because of years of medical advertising expertise that was built into the fabric of the company – the groundwork laid by Arthur Sackler serving as the foundation of Purdue’s calculated strategy. 

Part of this strategy had to include addressing doctors’ fears concerning opioid prescription, which they had long been told was high-risk and should generally be reserved for end-of-life care. Purdue’s argument was that OxyContin was a different type of medicine than the drugs they had come across before, because it was a sustained-release opioid, in contrast to opiates like morphine, which are immediate-release. The protective coating on OxyContin means that the drug is slowly released into the patient’s system over an extended period of 12 hours. Purdue claimed that this difference reduced the addictive nature of the drug, and made it safer for more widespread consumption than immediate release drugs like morphine. Moreover, they sought to address the issue of ongoing chronic pain, and argued that sustained-release OxyContin was better for managing constant or ongoing pain than immediate-release options. However, the FDA’s medical review officer in 1995 observed that OxyContin did not have a significant benefit for patients, and that similar results were achieved with immediate-release oxycodone. 

Purdue Pharma made OxyContin seem like a lifeline for sufferers of chronic pain. A drug that would allow relief for 12 full hours, longer than most other competitors, and only two pills to take per day, which would provide, according to Purdue, “smooth and sustained pain control all day and all night.” With Purdue Pharma continually claiming that the drug carried only a one per cent risk of addiction, it seemed like a medical miracle for individuals who had previously found no solutions for their pain conditions. 

However, for most patients, internal Purdue documents have shown that the drug, for many people, did not offer 12 hour relief. Instead, individuals began to experience withdrawals during the interim period between pills, experiencing “body aches, nausea, anxiety and other symptoms of withdrawal.” This suggests that the higher dose extended release pill was releasing the dose quicker than desired, essentially rendering the “extended release” function of the drug useless and sending patients into withdrawal. An LA Times investigation into this 12 hour problem noted that “when the agony is relieved by the next dose, it creates a cycle of pain and euphoria that fosters addiction.”

This is nothing short of conscious manipulation of medical professionals for profit, and there is a strong case that Purdue Pharma […] knew the drug to be significantly more addictive and risky than described in their advertising.

Purdue had created the perfect storm for an epidemic of addiction, and their executives, including members of the Sackler family, have been quick to deny any intent in this respect, claiming that they had no role to play in the opioid epidemic and that their genuine goal was  to relieve pain. However, internal documents prove that to be false – in fact, OxyContin was made to replace a previous Purdue product called MS Contin, which was no longer a moneymaker for the company. In a 1990 memo, Purdue scientist Robert Kaiko made it clear that the expiration of MS Contin’s patent would lead to a decrease in revenue for the company: “MS Contin may eventually face serious generic competition.” Therefore, the company was determined to find a new cash flow, but they needed it to stand out from pain medications that other pharmaceutical companies would be releasing – it needed to be different enough from MS Contin that it was considered a brand new “miracle” drug. 

Instead of demonstrating any care for sufferers of chronic pain, Purdue Pharma was entirely finance and profit-oriented. Chief executive Michael Friedman addressed Kaiko’s concerns: “OxyContin can cure the vulnerability  of the […] generic threat  and that is why it is so crucial that we devote our fullest efforts now to a successful launch of OxyContin.” Executive meetings were therefore focused on finding a ‘cure’ to the financial threat of Big Pharma competition, not on finding a cure to patients’ chronic pain. 

In addition to being purely financially motivated, Purdue Pharma has also been consistently vague about what they did and did not know about OxyContin in the first months and years after the drug’s release. The first trials of OxyContin were in women recovering from surgery in two Puerto Rican hospitals in 1989; these women complained of pain increase in the first eight hours, with half needing more medication before the 12 hour mark. After this clearly inconclusive study, OxyContin was somehow deemed safe, and the drug was approved as a longer-lasting painkiller despite the fact that it had failed to control patients’ pain for the marketed 12 hours. 

Moreover, Purdue Pharma knew years before any legal cases that addiction was an issue with their medication, and that they were contributing to widespread abuse of opioids. While the company and many individual Sackler family members have claimed that they knew only years after OxyContin’s release that it was dangerous, internal files from 1996 reveal a different story. Executives knew that pills were being crushed and snorted, with the company’s sales reps using the words “street value,” “crush” and “snort” in 117 notes from visits to medical professionals between 1997 and 1999. The crushing of pills removes the protective film that makes the medication extended release, therefore meaning that individuals were receiving an extremely high dose of medication directly into their bloodstream. Purdue Pharma’s sales representatives clearly acknowledged there was evidence of OxyContin being crushed and snorted; executives’ failure to intervene despite this knowledge leaves the blood of millions on their hands.

Purdue Pharma knew years before any legal cases that addiction was an issue with their medication, and that they were contributing to widespread abuse of opiods.

Purdue Pharma and members of the Sackler family knew what their drug was doing to people sooner than they claimed. The evidence for this is objective, written in internal memos and shared multiple times in court depositions, both in the 2007 case against the company and in the bankruptcy case this year. To see the Sackler family walk away with immunity from all future opioid related lawsuits is evidence of both the court and country’s lack of care for the victims of addiction, and demonstrates an obsession with pandering to the needs of the wealthiest corporations and members of society.

Bankruptcy court was the Sacklers’ way out of the OxyContin crisis, but for hundreds of thousands of individuals and families across America and the world, the crisis leaves permanent irreparable damage to their lives and communities, including the loss of at least 500,000 lives. While the Sacklers made an absolute minimum of $10 billion from the sales of OxyContin, the thousands of people whose lives have been ravaged by the opioid crisis will be unable to sue the Sacklers for the damage done, essentially the last nail in the coffin for seeking any small form of justice. Purdue Pharma and the Sackler family are responsible for what New York’s attorney general, Letitia James, describes as “the taproot of the opioid epidemic;” they have blood on their hands, and they’re getting away with it. 

The post How Purdue Pharma Got Away with it All appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Bill is filmed doing the Nazi salute when punctuating the word “fascism” during an absurdism lecture – the students have begun filming following a few tame quips from the Professor regarding alcohol and marijuana. The moment feels overly convenient, written in to allow for Bill’s offence to be caught on camera. The plot point may be indicative of a lack of young voices in the writer’s room, who could have provided clarity about the real nature of current classroom environments where it’s unlikely that so many students would be filming such an initially minor event at once. Moreover, the accusation against Bill is “neither compellingly realistic […] nor outrageously parodic” – it’s something there just isn’t time for in a series that runs only three hours long.

This subplot does somewhat re-centre Ji-Yoon’s narrative: it highlights the burden on women, particularly on women of colour, to clean up the white man’s mess. However, it’s ultimately a distraction from the more compelling plot line of Yaz’s battle for tenure, which is constantly obstructed by the interests of donors and older men in the field. The Chair would have been a more compelling series had this subplot been given more time and attention, and it’s a real shame that this plot line is not followed in more depth given the all-too common nature of the story in the real world. Yaz’s story also feels derailed by Bill’s blunders, where student voices are delegitimized and portrayed as overly woke – a disappointing generalization when these are the same students fighting in support of Yaz’s battles with administration.

It’s worthwhile still to consider the merits of the show aside from this subplot. As always, Sandra Oh is a beacon in the cast, shining as the lead, and complemented well by the equally talented Nana Mensah in the role of Yaz. In commenting on their characters, Oh expressed the importance of the characters’ intertwining plot lines: “One of the things I’m very proud of about the show is that you’re seeing two women of colour, of different colours, actually really speaking.” This is definitely one aspect of the show that is highly successful: Yaz and Ji-Yoon’s experiences as women of colour in academia are platformed in a way that has perhaps never been done so deftly before.

The show serves as a relatable narrative to individuals whose own narratives are not often so well represented on screen, particularly in the fraught relationship between Ji-Yoon and her adoptive daughter, who has a great deal of struggle in her own identity. Moreover, the storyline does seek to empower, dealing with stories at the intersection of race, gender and class. As Oh notes, these intersections make this a crucial story to tell: “With all those plates spinning, millions of people and millions of women are doing the exact same thing 24/7.”

Ultimately, though, Bill’s subplot detracts from the focus on these stories. It feels like it’s pandering to “cancel culture critics who think white men are being forced to apologize for things they didn’t do,” and makes the show feel timid in its writing, not daring to dive into more serious conversations of on-campus life. The students are depicted as overly accusatory foolish young people, who know nothing about the accusations they claim and are oddly unclear in their requests for a resolution, which is a betrayal to the more serious plot lines in which these same students play a pivotal role. Though this is disappointing, the show is otherwise well-made, phenomenally acted, and full of potential in its dissection of outdated and discriminatory academic practices, giving viewers hope for more cutting plot lines and less lazy writing should it be renewed for a second season.

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In the past weeks, preliminary searches at residential schools across Turtle Island have uncovered countless unmarked graves, revealing the thousands of Indigenous children across the country who were killed by the forced assimilation of the residential school system. Kamloops Indian Residential school was one of the most publicised discoveries, with the bodies of 215 Indigenous children being found on the grounds in late May. Today, its structure still stands on Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc First Nation ground. For years, survivors of Kamloops Residential School have spoken out about the abuse they faced there, including the group of day scholar students who recounted their traumatic experiences and continued pain in a class action lawsuit against the Canadian government, as well as survivors of the school who have since shared stories of burying their peers on the school grounds. While Prime Minister Justin Trudeau referred to this abuse of Indigenous people in Canada as “a dark and shameful chapter of our country’s history,” Indigenous youth and adults continue to suffer across Turtle Island, including a recent emergency within Montreal at government-run Batshaw Youth and Family Centre, where reports emerged of an Indigenous child confined in a windowless basement. Nunavut MP Mumilaaq Qaqqaq notes the similarities between the residential school system and the contemporary realities for Indigenous youth in social care systems: “Children are still being separated from their communities. Foster care is the new residential school system.” The Daily spoke with social work student Jo Roy regarding the ongoing mistreatment of Indigenous children in social care systems, and how the effects of Kamloops and other residential schools are still ongoing. 

Kamloops Residential School was established in 1890 as part of a policy of cultural assimilation and ethnic cleansing by the Catholic Church and the Canadian government. Located on traditional territory of the Secwepeme, Kamloops Residential School was another site of abuse in a long list of institutions across Turtle Island responsible for the murder of Indigenous children. Survivors of Kamloops Residential School have since spoken out about their time at the institution. At a 2013 Truth and Reconciliation hearing, survivor Jeanette Jules shared her experiences with sexual assault at the school. In 1997, survivor Simon Moses described life at the school: “All the hugging I used to get stopped at the residential school. To this day I have a problem saying ‘I love you mom.’” At another Truth and Reconciliation hearing, survivor Sarah McLeod shared the story of a nun forcing her to throw out a carved totem pole she had received as a birthday present. Meals were eaten in silence, students were whipped for wetting the bed, and a number was written on every student’s arm, which is what they were referred to for the duration of their time at the school. 

With 500 students attending at a time during peak enrolment, thousands of children at Kamloops Residential School were subject to the brutality of the nuns and priests in charge of their care. While the only official government records show 51 children dying at the school between 1914 and 1963, the discovery of 215 children buried in unmarked graves at Kamloops school is evidence of the mass murder of Indigenous people in residential schools across the country. 

The Indigenous communities of Kamloops and more have not received justice or reparations, and as a result, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau has faced criticism. Jagmeet Singh, leader of the NDP, told the House of Commons: “We all mourn the loss of those children, but to honour their lives, we need to move beyond words to action,” in reference to Trudeau’s ongoing failure  to pay reparations to Indigenous communities. Roy characterized Trudeau’s statements as “a pure form of gaslighting.” They continued, “This man is fighting Indigenous children in court, he isn’t fulfilling the promises to First Nation children.” 

Roy refers to ongoing legal battles between Trudeau’s cabinet and First Nations families, which Singh motioned to cease on June 7th. Calling the matter a “belligerent and litigious approach to justice,” the motion was supported unanimously by those present – however, Trudeau failed to attend, thereby abstaining from voting. “Trudeau didn’t even have the courage to vote,” Singh said “He walked away from Indigenous people…The cabinet didn’t have the courage to stand up for Indigenous people…They can’t even defend their own actions.” 

The failings of the government extend further, with Roy sharing news of an Indigenous youth at Batshaw group home who was forced into isolation in a windowless basement. The youth was mistakenly instructed to attend school, and arrived back at Batshaw group home several hours later, after finding the school closed for the day. The staff at Batshaw stated that this meant the youth was a COVID-19 risk, and subsequently placed them in isolation in a windowless concrete basement for 14 days, in spite of an assessment from the Directeur de la santé publique (DRSP) which confirmed that “the Indigenous youth in question presented little to no risk […] the measures taken by Batshaw were drastic.” As of June 3, it is believed that the child is no longer confined at Batshaw. 

“The child protection system is not protecting children,” stated Roy, a student in the School of Social Work. “You don’t need to literally imprison a child for two weeks in a windowless room. You don’t need to do that…When the workers at Batshaw were confronted with what was happening, they didn’t at all see any problem. This is a continuous problem, where Batshaw and the general Western child welfare system just abuses not just children in care, first of all, but Indigenous children in care.” There are many examples of abuse within the foster care system – the deaths of 102 Indigenous children connected to the child welfare system were reported in Northern Ontario between 2013 and 2017 and the death of 17 year old Cree youth Traevon Chalifoux-Desjarlais in 2020, who wasn’t found until four days after his death in a group home in Abbotsford. Roy argues that these continued cases show that “the federal government is complicit in ongoing genocide.”

Six years ago, the Truth and Reconciliation Commission created 94 calls to action. According to First Nations led research centre, the Yellowhead Institute, only eight have been completed. In an interview with CTV News, lawyer and author Michelle Good noted that many of these calls to action included searches for missing children and burial sites: “That was 2015 for goodness sake, and to me it is deeply resonant and reminiscent of the resistance of the federal government to resolving residential school claims in the first place.” Despite lowering the Canadian flag for last Thursday’s Canada Day, Trudeau’s fights against First Nations families in courts, and the continued mistreatment of Indigenous peoples in social care systems are evidence that the government has not and will not protect Indigenous communities across Turtle Island.

Illustration by Haida and Métis artist Tanya White, whose work can be found at https://studiomanylives.square.site, and @many_lives_ on Instagram.

A previous version of this article mistakenly stated that Jo Roy is Indigenous. The Daily regrets this error.

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The recreational use of cannabis has a history plagued by stigma, first starting from the early 1900s, when it became legally required for medical products containing cannabis to be labelled as such. After the Mexican Revolution of 1910, the population of Mexicans in the southern United States increased. The Mexicans were using cannabis recreationally, instead of medicinally. When stigma concerning the climbing immigrant population started to grow, cannabis was weaponized against Mexicans in the area, as angry Americans began to claim that the plant was turning people into killers. As the years went on, various states passed prohibition laws, and the Nixon administration’s War on Drugs sealed marijuana’s fate as part of the group of drugs identified as ‘public enemy number one’. 

It’s easy to see the history of what made the plant so stigmatized in the first place, but what seems to be the constant root of this stigma is a fear of the unknown, a sense that mysterious side effects of the drug will have huge negative impacts on the wellbeing of citizens. This harmful stigma is something raised by several youth advocacy groups, and something that was discussed at one of the Get Sensible roundtable discussions on March 25th, 2021. Get Sensible is a campaign from the Canadian Students for Sensible Drug Policy, and the project aims to provide evidence-based, non-judgemental, youth-led education concerning cannabis. The project notes that “authoritarian and fear based approaches to drug education don’t work,” highlighting the downfalls in our current government education programs and driving home this fear of the unknown that so many are scared of. 

The roundtable discussion from Get Sensible allowed for young people from across Canada to share their stories and opinions on a democratic platform. Participants were able to pick from various topics like Harm Reduction or Mental Health, and discuss them in breakout room sessions, where they were able to explore these topics in a context more comfortable and open than the norm for discussions concerning drugs. In the Mental Health room, for instance, youth discussed how cannabis can benefit their mental health and alleviate anxiety symptoms, as well as how over-consumption can trigger negative psychological experiences. The discussion was balanced and allowed for individuals to share their lived experience in a productive manner of facilitating drug education. 

Young people are leading the way in cannabis education. Get Sensible released a 75-page Sensible Cannabis Education Toolkit under CSSDP, free for all to download, and available in English, French, Spanish, Punjabi and Mandarin. Local organisation VoxCann has produced survey reports concerning cannabis use during the COVID-19 pandemic, hosted live-streamed panel discussions and produced a report titled “What Cann We Learn from University Students? Experiences with Cannabis from Youth in Universities.” Youth are prioritizing accessibility in cannabis education and are engaging in more productive outreach than the government seems capable of, and more nuanced discussion concerning usage. In a conversation with the Daily, CSSDP Chair and VoxCann founder Kira London-Nadeau commented: “Those who have learned about cannabis in schools often received information primarily from police officers, which reinforces the punitive and criminal legal-system based approach to drug use. In the absence of much-needed nuanced, evidence-based education that promotes the agency of youth in making informed decisions around cannabis use, much of the knowledge young people report comes from their own experiences with cannabis and learning from their peers. This is not to say that this way of learning isn’t useful, but it often doesn’t provide youth with the full scope of knowledge, support and resources they need to make the choices that work for them when it comes to cannabis.”

It was abundantly clear at the Get Sensible roundtable: youth are not receiving the unbiased, factual information concerning cannabis use that they should be in schools. 

“A common take-away of our roundtables is that students already have a lot of knowledge, but also many questions when it comes to the science, legal, social and educational aspects of cannabis,” London-Nadeau explained. That’s why VoxCann has their own Director of Medical Content, Fernanda Pérez-Gay Juarez, who has a PhD in Neuroscience from McGill and who is responsible for the health sections of VoxCann’s workshop and outreach. Having a medical professional on board is an unparalleled opportunity for the organisation, who are able to meet the needs of young people seeking further medical information about cannabis use.

While it is excellent that youth are taking the initiative to get involved in harm reduction and drug education, the Canadian government should face more accountability for its lack of education programs following the legalization of cannabis. On some level, it seems like Health Canada is making an effort, having launched a host of campaigns to “deliver ‘honest facts’ to teens,” and pledging to invest $100 million over the next six years in cannabis education. This being said, comments that this $100 million from Health Canada will go towards “cannabis public education, awareness and surveillance” are concerning, given the vagueness of what “surveillance” means and the harmful effects that increased surveillance of citizens has on societies, particularly in minority communities. It is imperative that we do not allow our government to re-criminalize an already legalized substance. 

We must demand more of our authoritative organizations, and put further pressure on the government to provide accurate health information regarding cannabis and to fund research that will benefit public health. It should be attainable for everyone who wants to learn about cannabis to be able to easily gain the information they need and improve their cannabis literacy. We must continue to productively engage in conversations about cannabis, and organisations should prioritise compensation for young people who are sharing their lived experiences, as Chapter Liaison Heath D’Alessio commented on at the Get Sensible roundtable: “If people aren’t compensating you for sharing your lived experience with them, that’s not right.”

The work of youth organisations such as VoxCann and the CSSDP is exemplar, and we owe it to student organisers to continue supporting their research by contributing to the conversations they facilitate and donating where possible to their organisations to help keep these valuable education initiatives alive. As London-Nadeau notes, it’s important to continue to “contextualise use,” given her work as a PhD student at the University of Montreal that has highlighted the increased use of cannabis by members of the LGBTQ+ community: “Among queer, non-binary and trans youth, there is more cannabis use as well as more mental health challenges, and cannabis seems to be a key tool that is used for coping purposes to address the challenges facing these youth. To me, this signals that the creation and dissemination of harm reduction tools and contextually-informed cannabis education is not only important for all youth, it’s also particularly important to support communities of young people that may be engaging in more cannabis use, such as queer, non-binary and trans youth.”

To learn more about these initiatives, check out cssdp.org, as well as voxcann.org, and download the free Get Sensible toolkit here. 

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Kezna Dalz

Kezna Dalz (known as @teenadultt on Instagram) is a visual artist who uses both digital and traditional illustrative styles in her work. Dalz works with ‘pop neo-expressionism,’ depicting “black women in their intimacy, in their solitary and loving dialogues, social and political.” She recently collaborated with author Shanice Nicole on the children’s book Dear Black Girls, a project she says was healing to work on, and that she would have liked to offer her childhood self.

Esther Calixte-Bea

Esther Calixte-Bea is a recent graduate from Concordia’s Fine Arts program, and a body hair activist whose work focuses on identity, beauty, and vulnerability. Her practice involves different mediums – while her primary medium is acrylic, she has received international acclaim for her photography in The Lavender Project, a self-portrait series about body hair. Calixte-Bea is also featured on the cover of the Daily’s Black History Month issue.

Danielle Murrell Cox

Danielle Murrell Cox is a graphic designer and illustrator. She creates prints, pins, stickers, colouring books, and plush toys, and is the author of the children’s book My Hair. Her diverse portfolio touches on a variety of themes, including representation, identity, and activism.   

Chloe Awali Cavis-Haie

Chloe Awali Cavis-Haie is a Montreal and Toronto-based designer who is “dedicated to designing strategies and media that inspires change.” She seeks to work with “industry disruptors,” and has created visuals for Cannabits Montréal, the Black Indigenous Harm Reduction Alliance, and the non-profit organisation Stella. Cavis-Haie is also an equity consultant, working with organisations such as Pride Montreal, as well as Concordia and McGill Universities, leading conflict de-escalation workshops and addressing intersectionality in the LGBTQ+ community.

Shanna Strauss 

Shanna Strauss is a mixed-media visual artist and community organizer whose work explores the African Diaspora, identity, and belonging. Her mixed-media designs predominantly feature images of people who represent a part of [her] and the different communities [she is] connected to.” Strauss notes the inherently political nature of her art, and how who she depicts in her work reflects her identity: “The people I portray tell a part of my story and are threads in the web of my kinship and the broader Diaspora.”

Noka Palm Trees 

Noka Palm Trees is a multi-disciplinary artist who creates work that “stems from afrocentric surrealism as a coping mechanism for navigating neurodivergency and unjust systems of oppression.” Working with both digital art and poetry, Noka Palm Trees invites their audience to “witness the rediscovering of [their] many selves through the shedding of intergenerational trauma and growing into (black) softness through [their] seasoned culture.” Their work features bright neon colours, outlandish performances and a unique blend of aesthetics from the ‘70s to the 90s.’ 

Zolani Stewart

Zolani Stewart is a graphic designer whose writing and visual designs inform his illustrations and brand work. Stewart has worked on booklet designs, album artwork, and advertising for Ray-Ban. With a wide ranging style and an eye for bold colours, Stewart is one of Montreal’s most notable designers.

Naskademini 

Naskademini is a portrait photographer who works with high-profile brands such as Nike, Little Burgundy, and Timberlands. Naskademini has created a sleek professional portfolio, allowing him to achieve his dream of photographing intimate portraits of people such as Malala, Dominique Anglade and Thundercat. Beyond his portraiture projects, Naskademini also produces some experimental art, which can be found on his website. 

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The Queen’s Gambit premiered on Friday October 23rd to universal acclaim – the series scores a rare 100% on Rotten Tomatoes, and it has been praised by Netflix audiences and the global chess community alike. The project is director Scott Frank’s second limited series at Netflix, and it adapts Walter Tevis’ novel of the same name. Much of the series’ success is due to Netflix’s investment in specialized consultants; chess experts Garry Kasparov and Bruce Pandolfini both worked on the show, and they helped create a depiction of chess that felt masterfully authentic. Kasparov, a child chess prodigy himself, imbued his personal experience and career trajectory into Beth’s journey, which gave more depth and nuance to her character. 

This sense of realism is also present in the series’ portrayal of addiction. The children at Beth’s orphanage are given one tranquilizer per day, and Beth learns to hoard and abuse the pills once she realizes they enhance her spatial reasoning. The viewer understands through a series of flashbacks to traumatic moments in Beth’s life that the tranquilizers help dull her sensitivities to the real world. The first episode, “Openings,” introduces Beth’s developing addiction, and the passing of legislation that removes her access to these pills. The seven hour-long episodes allow for a broad level of exposition, which creates a highly cinematic experience. 

The Queen’s Gambit follows Beth through different stages of her life, and Taylor-Joy brilliantly conveys the passing of time through her characterisation and changing physicality. In an interview with Netflix, the actress indicates that, “when [Beth] is fifteen, she waddles. She walks with flat feet, she fidgets a lot. She doesn’t have a lot of control over her facial expressions.” Taylor-Joy portrays Beth’s growing confidence in her skills by progressively altering her expression from beady-eyed to Beth’s final steely gaze. Her growth and character development is emphasized by the show’s excellent hair and makeup design, spearheaded by Daniel Parker. As Beth ages through the 1940s to the 1960s, her hair loosens up to reflect her increasing self-assuredness.

Despite its intimate depiction of Beth, the show falters in its characterization of certain secondary characters, most notably in Beth’s childhood friend Jolene (Moses Ingram). Jolene, who is Black, is relegated to the role of “best friend” – as critic Bethonie Butler writes in the Washington Post, “the show blunders when it comes to Beth’s childhood friend, whose backstory and character development are so limited that she seems to exist merely to make Beth’s life easier.” While the audience gets to see her succeed as a paralegal with hopes of going to law school, the series devotes little time to the exploration of Jolene’s backstory, even though she remains a significant presence in Beth’s life. This is disappointing, as Jolene is one of the show’s most compelling characters. 

Overall, The Queen’s Gambit is another excellent Netflix original, and it has rightfully become one of the streaming service’s most successful miniseries. Though not without its faults, Scott Frank’s accomplished exploration of chess, addiction and a woman’s coming-of-age experience is thoughtful and filled with complex characters and meticulous attention to detail. The series will undoubtedly appeal to a variety of viewers. 

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