While her birthday may still remain a mystery, Black Theatre Workshop (BTW)’s Angélique ensures that she is remembered for more than just the day she died. The play was written in the 1990s by the late Lorena Gale, a former artistic director at BTW, and draws heavily on archival material. It’s less a story about the specific circumstances surrounding Angélique’s death and more an exploration of her life as an enslaved Black woman in New France, chronicling her pain and joy amidst the systems of oppression that ultimately sealed her fate. The narrative follows her life in Canada, from her arrival in New France, to the death of the evil, abusive slave owner François (in a truly disturbing portrayal by Karl Graboshas), to her own attempted escape and subsequent death. Knowing the ending doesn’t make the journey any less compelling.

Directed by Mike Payette, BTW’s Angélique doesn’t shy away from the most horrifying aspects of this journey. On a small, almost claustrophobic stage that makes the horrors all the more intimate, the cast mimes gruesome violence and the audience is given full access to Angélique’s deep trauma, acted with excellent intensity by Jenny Brizard.
But the play also avoids becoming solely an exercise in watching pain. In one exhilarating scene, Angélique and Manon (Darla Contois), an Indigenous woman who works for François’ neighbours, both play with sheets while doing their boss’ laundry. Their exchange has no dialogue, only giddy laughter and captivating choreography. The connection it conveys between these two oppressed women needs no words. The scenes where Angélique falls in love with white farmer Claude (Olivier Lamarche) are also charming, providing little snippets of romantic comedy amidst the otherwise tragic tale.

As celebrations of Canada’s 150th birthday ramp up, plays like Angélique are doing the crucial work of calling attention to Canada’s past and present crimes – seeking reflection and atonement rather than celebration.

These moments of happiness, often the strongest in the play, assert that Angélique, while subject to immense oppression, can’t be reduced to it. Far from undermining the horror of her story, they make it feel all the more unjust when these moments are cut short (as with Manon) or lead to betrayal (as with Claude). The music in the play – composed and performed live on a ledge above the stage by the SIXTRUM percussion ensemble – adds to its immediacy, aiding the quick and sometimes disorienting vacillations between such intense sorrow and playful joy.

Angélique is, at its core, a story of historical structures told through personal relationships. Angélique’s relationship with César (Tristan D. Lalla) – a Black man who, when he asks for permission to court a woman, is coerced into partnership with Angélique – exposes how white supremacy structures the relationships between Black men and women, inhibiting sexual agency and dignity. Indeed, the white slave owners watch Angélique and César’s first meeting as if they’re at a zoo. Angélique’s relationship with Thérèse (France Rolland), François’ wife, depicts how white women – though oppressed in their own ways – are active oppressors of Black women. Through the relationship between Angélique and Manon, the audience sees how the weight of oppression can divide those who, under better circumstances, would likely be good friends.

These relationships, though effective as a microcosm for larger social forces, are sometimes not as fully drawn as they could be. Angélique and Manon in particular could use more scenes together, given that their first is so powerful. In general, the narrative moves between so many stories, time periods, and extreme moments of emotion, that the play at times could use more moments where the characters pause – allowing the audience to invest in them before moving on to the next plot point.

The relationship between Angelique and her environment, however, is wholly realized: the Montreal cold acts as an extra character, reinforcing Angélique’s sense of alienation from her home and nearly killing her when she goes on the run. Where contemporary representations of slavery often position the north – and Canada specifically – as the land of freedom, Angélique flips the script: when the protagonist tries to escape, she heads south to New England. As celebrations of Canada’s 150th birthday ramp up, plays like Angélique are doing the crucial work of calling attention to Canada’s past and present crimes – seeking reflection and atonement rather than celebration.

Though Angélique’s script mostly remains situated in the 1700s, the costume choices link Angélique’s experiences to the present day oppressions of Black people. François, in the scene where he first purchases Angélique and perversely describes her physical characteristics, wears a suit that looks like it belongs on a modern-day Wall Street patron. César, midway through the show, dons a black hoodie in a nod to Trayvon Martin, linking the way slave owner Ignace (Chip Chuika) treats César as an animal to Darren Wilson’s descriptions of Michael Brown. And in the final scene, as she is about to be hanged, Angélique herself wears an orange outfit reminiscent of a prison jumpsuit. The message is clear and crucial: the mass incarceration of Black people today is the direct legacy of stories like Angélique’s.

Where contemporary representations of slavery often position the north – and Canada specifically – as the land of freedom, Angélique flips the script: when the protagonist tries to escape, she heads south to New England.

Angélique opens and closes with dance: the first scene sees the cast circling the small stage in a line together, until Angélique falls out of step, collapsing and writhing onto the floor. It’s an arresting moment that foreshadows the manipulation and contortion her character will soon experience, conveying the sense that Angélique, as an enslaved Black woman in a cold, unfamiliar land, is not fully in control of her body – a notion that history seems to bear out.

But the play, in its final moments, suggests otherwise. As Angélique prepares to die, she breaks out once again into dance, but this time the movement is liberating. These last seconds are simply magnificent, a revelatory moment in Payette’s direction and Brizard’s acting. Against all odds, Angélique breaks free – perhaps not in the narrative, but certainly on the stage, and history, though not rewritten, has hope.

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Historian Keeanga-Yamahtta Taylor poses this crucial question six minutes into Stay Woke: The Black Lives Matter Movement, a new documentary directed by Laurens Grant that screened at the Montreal International Black Film Festival (MIBFF) this month. Grant’s answer to the question is in the film’s title, but the film itself serves as her argument: Stay Woke weaves tweets, protests, and interviews together to chronicle the birth and evolution of one of the most important social movements of the 21st century.

For Grant, who has worked on several social history documentaries, including the Emmy nominated The Black Panthers: Vanguard of the Revolution, this is a familiar challenge in a new context: with Black Lives Matter (BLM), the historical subject is also contemporary. “[Black Lives Matter] isn’t a movement that has occurred and landed and now we can excavate it,” she told The Daily after the Stay Woke screening. “What’s exciting is that it’s still happening.” Indeed, the same week that Stay Woke screened at the MIBFF, protesters were on the streets in Charlotte, North Carolina.

Stay Woke weaves tweets, protests, and interviews together to chronicle the birth and evolution of one of the most important social movements of the 21st century.

Grant, however, is uniquely suited to the task of balancing contemporary urgency and historical context, having worked as a journalist in Latin America before becoming a filmmaker. “I love telling stories,” she explained. “I wanted to be a foreign correspondent – my idols were Langston Hughes and Ernest Hemingway, because they covered the Spanish Civil War.”

Foreign correspondents need to be able to distill ongoing events into coherent narratives, a skill that Grant clearly demonstrates in Stay Woke. The film focuses on key moments in the BLM movement – George Zimmerman’s non-conviction, the Eric Garner video, the military in Missouri – while also telling a larger story that firmly establishes BLM as a new kind of 21st century social movement. BLM, Stay Woke suggests, is grounded in social networks and leaderless defiance, and has as much in common with the Arab Spring and Occupy Wall Street as it does with the Civil Rights Movement. One particularly stunning scene makes this link explicit, when activist Michaela Angela Davis recounts how activists from the Arab Spring tweeted advice to BLM activists on how to treat tear gas. “They were coaching them from the Arab Spring to Ferguson, making that connection organically,” she said, “And I thought oh snap, this is different. They’re in solidarity, uprising.”

The comparison soon becomes concerning, however. After charting BLM’s growth from a hashtag into nationwide protests, Stay Woke heads into existential territory, asking how the movement can remain strong amidst harsh racist backlash. Watching footage of mainstream media pundits decrying the “violence” of BLM and co-opting the movement’s narrative to paint it as an aimless group of hateful millennials, it’s hard not to hear an echo of Occupy’s failure.

For Grant, though, this backlash is just part of BLM’s evolution, not a sign of defeat. “I don’t want to pretend like I’m speaking for them, but it’s like, it was bound to happen,” she said. “Any movement in history, if they’re gonna grow or gain traction, then they’re gonna have some sort of blowback. That’s the nature of movements, of changemakers – change does not come quietly.”

“[Black Lives Matter] isn’t a movement that has occurred and landed and now we can excavate it […] What’s exciting is that it’s still happening.”

Grant envisions the shift from “moment” to “movement,” then, as a kind of coming of age. “I think that was a part of [the] learning curve,” she explained. “How to grow up, in a way. Each movement has its infancy, and if it lasts, then [the question is] how do you sustain yourself?”

This is the question that Occupy never answered. But Stay Woke suggests that where Occupy faded away, Black Lives Matter has branched out – into a global network with over thirty chapters worldwide. Instead of following a more traditional path that might have led to a national organization with a headquarters in one major city, BLM multiplied into a series of locally-based grassroots groups.

“[There’s] this whole criticism of leaderless movements,” said Grant. “But this power of local allows the local community to take ownership and tailor things to their needs – be it a different country, a different language, or a different jurisdiction. How [Black Lives Matter] figured that out is astonishing – they were able to tap local leaders to curate the conversation and bring changes forward locally. Now we’re seeing people running for office and local jurisdiction being called [on] to [make] changes, the department of justice trying to make indictments in different districts and saying this isn’t law and order, this is disorder. That is a testament to the power of local. The power is right where you stand.”

For Grant, this power of local extends beyond activism to film as well – this is part of the strength of festivals like the MIBFF, which encourage discussions about art and politics outside of elite Hollywood circles. “I know a lot of people say, well, why do you need this kind of festival, a festival just spotlighting women directors or minority directors or the diaspora,” she said. “[It’s] because these issues matter, these communities matter.”

“[Black Lives Matter] is a testament to the power of local. The power is right where you stand.”

Indeed, the importance of this local contextualization of political issues was evident during the panel that followed the Stay Woke screening, as artists and activists brought a Montreal perspective to the BLM movement. Activist Will Prosper discussed police brutality in the city, pointing to the death of Fredy Villanueva, while comedian Eddy King shared his own experience of police harassment last summer. This festival screening-and-panel format is thus essential for a film like Stay Woke as it allows the film to go beyond a static depiction of a social movement by actually engaging with the members of that movement. Stay Woke is not a film to be watched independently but rather a collective, community-building experience.

Grant agrees. “Film festivals allow that additional richness, where the community can come out together to actually talk about stuff and tailor the conversation to how things affect them,” she said, reflecting on the Stay Woke panel. “The conversation today was absolutely heart-wrenching and lovely at the same time, [seeing] how [anti-blackness] is felt and seen and experienced every day here. And that’s what Black Lives Matter is trying to tell you: each community has this, but in a different way.”
Given the ubiquity of systemic racism and police brutality, is she optimistic about change?

“Being from the U.S., we are always criticized for having humongous egos, so yes, I am very optimistic,” Grant responded. “I think things will get better, because look at history, look at my career, look at who I am. Things have improved, incredibly so. Just the fact that I made a documentary on what some [might] say is an important or contentious matter, I think that’s a huge change. But is the work finished? No. And how do you keep going? Well, we’re learning from these activists.”

Stay Woke reflects this optimistic tone. Though it depicts violence, oppression, and heartbreak, above all it is the story of a radical coming together, a simultaneous convergence and dispersion of resistance. Stay Woke is the story of an uprising that does not fall back down, an uprising that is not just vertical but horizontal, spreading its roots across the continent and laying the foundations for change.

The post Change does not come quietly appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Policy Content

The DPSV has three primary objectives: to prevent sexual violence through education and awareness, to “support Survivors of Sexual Violence,” and “to respond effectively to Disclosures and Reports of Sexual Violence.” Though the first and last of these objectives have their own explicitly labelled subsections within the policy, the goal of “support[ing] Survivors of Sexual Violence” does not.

The “Education and Awareness” subsection specifies initiatives such as on-campus informational campaigns and training sessions for various University bodies (including the University Residences, and Athletics and Recreation services).

The “Responding to Disclosures” subsection, meanwhile, would mandate McGill staff to “inform [survivors] about and provide access to appropriate […] services, including health and counseling services” at McGill and beyond, preserve the survivor’s confidentiality, and “refrain from questions or comments that imply judgment or blame of the survivor.”

The DPSV also features a section on immediate steps that the University can take upon receiving a disclosure or report, as to “protect the Survivor and the University Community,” including “voluntary measures” agreed to by the alleged perpetrator, “implementing alternate academic […] extra-curricular, residential or work arrangements,” or even “temporarily excluding the alleged perpetrator from campus or limiting that person’s role, privileges or duties.”

Finally, the draft policy stipulates that “within four months of this Policy coming into effect, the Provost shall initiate a review of the phenomenon of Sexual Violence at the University,” and that as part of this process, “efforts will be made to engage with” students who have experienced sexual violence, and those with relevant expertise.

“The draft that is currently up for feedback is heavily informed by the efforts of the student-drafted policy.”

It also mandates the creation of “appropriate, visible and accessible physical office space and the appointment of adequate and qualified staffing focused on Sexual Violence case management, education, prevention and support, which accounts for the particular effects of Sexual Violence on members of equity-seeking groups.” This is to be accomplished “through the allocation of appropriate resources.” The nature of “appropriate resources” remains unspecified.

DPSV vs. SAP

In an email to The Daily, Campbell wrote that “the draft that is currently up for feedback is heavily informed by the efforts of the student-drafted policy [SAP]. It draws heavily from their work, and we know that universities are often led to change through effective, thoughtful student leadership and advocacy.”

She went on to explain that features of the DPSV such as its definition of consent (which includes the specification that “consent may not be free or informed when a person is intoxicated, unconscious, or where the sexual activity has been induced by conduct that constitutes an abuse of trust, power, or authority”) and the aforementioned review of sexual violence at McGill came directly from consultation with students that took place over the summer.

Despite this, the DPSV features notable differences from the rejected working group’s SAP. It is significantly shorter, describes itself as “survivor-focused,” as opposed to “pro-survivor,” and, unlike the SAP, features no specific delineation of survivors’ rights.

It also includes fewer equity provisions than the SAP, as it does not specifically name marginalized groups that may be more vulnerable to sexual violence, eliminates the requirement of specific resources for such marginalized groups, and removes a commitment to equity from the policy’s objectives and the term intersectionality from the policy entirely.

Talia Gruber, one of the members of the original student working group that put together the SAP, expressed her frustration about the DPSV in an email to The Daily.

“The goal of our policy was to ensure a clear commitment by the University to create new, accessible, and effective recourse and interim measures for survivors wishing to pursue action against perpetrators, and to ensure the creation of new, more effective, and better funded […] intervention resources, which this Policy simply does not do,” she wrote. “By simply gathering existing modes of recourse, the University is maintaining mechanisms for recourse that are insufficient at best, and retraumatizing at worst.”

In their joint statement on the DPSV, the Students’ Society of McGill University (SSMU) and the Post-Graduate Students’ Society (PGSS) echoed Gruber’s concerns that the administration’s draft doesn’t go far enough to help those who have experienced sexual violence.

“Despite [some] improvements [over the status quo], however,” the statement read, “the current draft reinforces existing University limitations on responding to sexual violence. It does not address formal reporting and disciplinary procedures, relying instead on existing policies such as the Code of Student Conduct that fail to account for the specific challenges of cases on sexual violence. It also does little to guarantee or impose timelines on administrative responses to disclosures and reports beyond these existing policies.”

Vagueness and Impracticality

Several campus groups have also criticised the DPSV for using vague language and shying away from concrete measures. In an email to The Daily, The McGill chapter of Silence Is Violence (SiV) pointed out that, while the policy requires the University to direct survivors to “appropriate University services,” it fails to specify these services.

“What are the services that should be mentioned?” SiV asked. “Do they include free emergency STD testing, free emergency contraception, information regarding abortion services, and contact info for SACOMSS [The Sexual Assault Centre of McGill Students’ Society]?”

“By simply gathering existing modes of recourse, the University is maintaining mechanisms for recourse that are insufficient at best, and retraumatizing at worst.”

SACOMSS echoed these concerns, telling The Daily via email that they “do not see any of the desperately needed concrete changes in the reporting process or mechanisms for recourses within the University.”

Similarly, SiV is concerned about the lack of specification in the provision for “reasonable accommodations and immediate measures” for survivors, asking what form these accommodations could take and how they would be approved.

Gruber also criticized the DPSV’s use of language. “McGill uses equity language,” she wrote, “which the [SAP working group] felt was more watered down and often means historically marginalized groups continue to be excluded.”

While Campbell admitted that “there continues [sic] to be unanswered questions that we will need to address as we look to implementation: including a fulsome training program for staff, resources, and clarity around how this new policy will work alongside current disciplinary policies […] and how it will complement existing campus initiatives,” she did not address the lack of robust forms of recourse for survivors.

Student criticisms of vague language point to a broader concern with the lack of practicality and actionability of the policy. Some groups have even suggested that this vagueness is not mere oversight, but instead a measure that protects McGill from liability if the University fails to adequately support a survivor.

“In keeping the language of the policy vague and omitting certain topics altogether,” wrote SiV, “McGill officials are simultaneously asking survivors of sexual violence to take a giant leap of faith and assume that the University will do the right thing for them when they report, and protecting their own institution in case it falls short of a reasonable response.”

A Culture of Distrust

Student groups also expressed frustration with the administration for the process that led to the DPSV. SiV told The Daily that McGill’s “lack of transparency and shifting levels of commitment” has created a “culture of distrust among members of the McGill community.”

In light of this “culture of distrust” and the policy’s vague language, many remain skeptical that the DPSV’s creators had the best interests of students in mind. “We are concerned,” SACOMSS wrote, “that this policy may just be more empty words from a university that continues to prioritize its public image over supporting the survivors of sexual assault who were promised a supportive and safe learning environment.”

“We are concerned that this policy may just be more empty words from a university that continues to prioritize its public image over supporting the survivors of sexual assault.”

SiV concurred, claiming that the DPSV is simply “a PR stunt designed to polish McGill’s image superficially rather than a tool to ensure that survivors have their rights respected.”

In her email to The Daily, Campbell acknowledged students’ grievances, writing that the administration “regret[s] the sense of legitimate frustration that some students experienced as a result of the time and energy required to bring this matter to Senate. […] We truly want to continue working with and listening to students; their engagement with the process has been invaluable to-date.”

But according to Ian Beattie, a former editor at The Daily and another member of the original working group, this, if anything, represents an understatement. Beattie told The Daily via email that although he feels progress has been made since the group began advocating for a sexual violence policy in 2013, these developments have come about almost exclusively because of students.

“It’s surprised me from the beginning of this process how little urgency administrators have felt about this issue,” he wrote. “Every university in the [United] States, all the other major universities in Canada (and many smaller ones) have policies, and a few even have fairly developed infrastructures to support survivors.”

“At McGill, though, VP after VP, Dean after Dean started their job, presumably at some point became aware that there was no policy on sexual assault at McGill, and not one of them felt the need to do something about it,” Beattie continued. “I think it’s worth emphasizing that this was a student-led initiative – we took it to them, and then had to slog away at it for three years.”

Next Steps

The administration is currently calling for feedback on the DPSV, requesting that community members submit their comments via an online form by September 30.

This feedback will be reviewed by members of the administration in conjunction with the non-profit White Ribbon, an organization which describes itself as a “movement of men and boys working to end violence against women and girls, promote gender equity, healthy relationships and a new vision of masculinity,” and which, according to Campbell, is working against gendered violence on multiple Canadian campuses.

After feedback is considered, explained Campbell, the DPSV will be brought to Senate for information in October, and for approval in November.

Despite their reservations, SSMU and PGSS encouraged students to submit feedback. “The current feedback period is an important opportunity for student participation in efforts to implement pro-survivor, intersectional, and non-directional approaches to addressing sexual violence at McGill,” their joint statement read, adding that they “will be offering closed focus groups in order to gather feedback on the policy draft.”

Other campus groups are doubtful, however, that this public consultation period will lead to any concrete improvements in the policy. “Given that McGill has ignored student input around sexual violence in the past,” SiV wrote, “we are skeptical that public consultations will lead to major changes in the policy. Nevertheless, we plan to be involved at every stage of the public process.”

According to SiV, in order to eliminate McGill’s pervasive “culture of distrust,” “survivors need to be put at the centre of this process,” and the public consultation is the perfect place to start. “No online submission can adequately convey the unique needs of survivors better than face-to-face meetings with them as a major stakeholder.”

“I think it’s worth emphasizing that this was a student-led initiative – we took  it to them, and then had to slog away at it for three years.

Beattie stressed that beyond consulting students on the DPSV in the weeks and months to come, McGill must also address its problematic past.

“The fact that there has been no infrastructure for support up till [sic] now means that for decades people have been experiencing sexual assault at McGill without receiving any institutional support from the University,” he told The Daily in his email. “That’s a legacy which the University hasn’t begun to deal with. If in the next few months the University really seeks out and shapes this policy around those people’s feedback, though, that would be a good start.”

A previous version of this article stated that the Draft Policy against Sexual Violence was written by an ad hoc Senate committee over the summer. In fact, it was written by Associate Provost (Policies, Procedures, and Equity) Angela Campbell. The Daily regrets the error.

A previous version of this article also stated that the DPSV will be brought to Senate for approval in October. In fact, it will be brought to Senate for information in October, and for approval in November. The Daily regrets the error. 

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It’s possible that I just misremembered, but part of the reason I was expecting it to be more, well, disgusting, is because that scene was the movie’s claim to gross-out fame when it was first released. Moviegoers, critics, everyone was talking about its shock value. But on rewatching, I had to wonder, why? I’ve seen much worse in other comedies: the penis-shooting scene in 21 Jump Street or the vomit scene in I Love You, Man, for starters. So why was this one scene so remarkable? Maybe because this wasn’t Paul Rudd and Jason Segel puking on each other – this was a group of five women, in wedding dresses, doing the most ‘unfeminine’ thing possible.

In our patriarchal societies in Canada and the U.S., when men make reference to their bodily functions, it’s seen as a joke – an immature one, but, ultimately, a harmless one. It’s just perceived as “boys being boys.” Women, however, are not afforded the same leniency.
When girls become teenagers, their bodies are regulated and submitted to a double standard, the age-old virgin/whore dichotomy. On the one hand, women must be prudish and cover their bodies, while on the other, they are sources of sexual pleasure for men, their bodies exposed for objectification. Any function of the body that falls outside of these two categories, such as puking or having your period, is erased.

Pop culture is one of the biggest culprits in this regulation and sexualization of women’s bodies. Although there are some examples of female perspectives on how women are portrayed in film and TV, the standard portrayal of women still adheres to what film critic and feminist Laura Mulvey calls “the male gaze”: a woman’s body is filmed for the male viewer, making it a source of pleasure – no pooping, puking, and periods allowed.

In our patriarchal societies in Canada and the U.S., when men make reference to their bodily functions, it’s seen as a joke – an immature one, but, ultimately, a harmless one. It’s just perceived as “boys being boys.” Women, however, are not afforded the same leniency.

Hence a dire lack in Hollywood of vulgar comedies that make light of women’s experiences with their bodies. Just look at the division between teen comedies: teen flicks targeted at men often feature a storyline where a sexually preoccupied teenage boy is trying to lose his virginity, such as in Superbad and American Pie, and engages in gross hijinks along the way.

In teen flicks aimed at girls (think Mean Girls and Clueless) the coming-of-age story is usually not about coming into sexuality, but rather dealing with social image issues and finding a boyfriend. This trend where men can be gross and women are either desirable or trying to become desirable continues into adulthood and adult comedy.

This bias in bodily regulation and humour not only affects who gets to make gross jokes on screen, but also which kinds of gross jokes are acceptable. Period jokes, for instance, are way less common than fart jokes or puke jokes in movies. The first time I saw Superbad, I found the period gag (where Jonah Hill dances with a woman and gets period blood on his leg, and proceeds to freak out) pretty annoying, because I saw it as demonizing periods. But it’s actually a great joke, not only because period jokes are so absent from comedy culture, but because, yeah, it’s gross when your period leaks. And it’s funny – and arguably even healthy – to be able to laugh at those gross moments. But, even in Superbad, it’s the guys who get to make this joke.

This is why it’s so important for women in pop culture to be gross. Every time a female comedian makes a joke about the gross functions of her body, she is subverting norms of femininity that regulate the female body and tell women how they must behave and what they can and cannot do. One poop joke may seem like an insignificant action, but it is one small means of empowering women to make their own statements about their bodies.

On the bright side, as more female comedians become popular, they begin to shift the paradigm of what is acceptable to put on screen and what isn’t, if only slightly. 2015 wasn’t a bad year for women in body humour – Amy Schumer’s Trainwreck and the Amy Poehler-Tina Fey feature Sisters both include some refreshingly surprising moments, but there’s still a long way to go. Broad City is perhaps the best example of (increasingly) mainstream comedy that doesn’t shy away from the female body; one only has to look at the poop shoe episode of season one for confirmation.

The breastfeeding scene in Neighbors – a film noteworthy for including the wife character in the film’s comedic core, instead of relegating her to the sidelines – is one of the most memorable recent female body gross-out scenes. It turns the trope of the ‘pregnant woman with big boobs’ on its head by making fun of just how painful and unappealing breastfeeding can be. Though, again, the line between demonization and humour is a fine one, and it’s still Seth Rogen who gets the laughs.

[I]t’s so important for women in pop culture to be gross. Every time a female comedian makes a joke about the gross functions of her body, she is subverting norms of femininity that regulate the female body and tell women how they must behave and what they can and cannot do.

This isn’t to say that, as a society, we should all be making poop jokes. But, clearly, there is something about bodily functions that we find funny – Canada’s most popular emoji last year was the poop emoji. We laugh when we are surprised; this is probably also why comedy can be extremely offensive, because there’s humour in shock value. Poop is funny because it’s something normally deemed too gross for a conversation, but it’s also something that every human on the planet deals with on a daily basis. Women, though, often don’t have the power to make light of their own bodies within mainstream culture – and this is especially true for trans women.

So when a scene in a big budget Hollywood film takes five women in pristine bridesmaids dresses, the definition of chaste femininity, and has them puke all over those dresses, it subverts gender norms so shockingly that it’s not just funny – it’s subversive, and if the vomit got a little more screentime, it could subvert a little more.

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Wildside theatre festival

January 7-17

Centaur Theatre, tickets $16 regular, $13 for students, those under 30, seniors

This 19th annual Wildside Theatre Festival is co-curated by Johanna Nutter, who curated the 2014 edition and performed her acclaimed play My Pregnant Brother at Wildside in 2011, and Roy Surette, a B.C. theatre staple
and the current artistic and executive director of Centaur Theatre. Known for shedding light on young, budding Canadian talent, Wildside is a chance for Montreal theatre-goers to see indie shows that surpass the realm of what you might normally find on Montreal’s biggest stages, without having to sift through the overwhelming Fringe Festival program. This year, Wildside’s is featuring seven shows from local companies like Kaleidoscope Montreal and MaryBeth Productions, as well as imports from Vancouver, Ottawa, and Brooklyn. The shows range from quirky to terrifying, dealing with such topics as female superheroes, the commodification of happiness, and school shootings.

Must see: Co. Venture and In Search of Mrs. Pirandello
Co. Venture is a dance show that delves into the multi-generational influence of choreographer Merce Cunningham. It won the prize for Outstanding Choreography at the Fringe Festival in 2015.

Be sure to also check out In Search of Mrs. Pirandello, a play from the Black Theatre Workshop’s former artist in residence Michaela Di Cesare. The play looks at the life of author Luigi Pirandello’s wife, a woman who was unfairly labelled crazy and irrationally jealous in her time.

KickDrum Winter Marathon

January 14-16

Various locations, tickets $5-15, with various free events

KickDrum, a Montreal music promotion and management company, is putting on its inaugural Winter Marathon, a music festival that seeks to fill the void of cultural activities in Montreal’s cold winter months. Different from Igloofest, the popular electronic winter music festival that encourages Montrealers to embrace the cold and dance in the snow, the Winter Marathon focuses on alt folk, rock, and pop, and takes place at cafes and bars throughout the city, allowing festivalgoers to forgo the frostbite and enjoy a warm latte or beer with their music. Not only does this festival give you a chance to see some of Montreal’s top up-and-coming acts, it also gives you a great tour of some of the city’s best coffee.

Don’t miss: Look Vibrant

Look Vibrant is a McGill band that has successfully broken out of the McGill bubble and into the Montreal scene. Their off-kilter brand of art pop pairs fuzzy, nasal vocals with noisy guitars and catchy synths for a dance sound. Also, their videos are pretty weird (like, floating penises weird). They’re playing the closing event on January 16 with CTZNSHP and Technical Kidman.

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First introduced in 2003 by residence floor fellows and students from the Sexual Assault Centre of the McGill Students’ Society (SACOMSS), and Queer McGill, Rez Project was created out of a need to educate students on issues of gender and sexuality so as to make residences a safer environment for all students.

Regardless of its mandate, however, Rez Project faces certain limitations. Speaking to The Daily in 2013, Chelsea Barnett and Annie Preston, who were Rez Project coordinators at the time, talked about how the reception of the anti-oppression workshops was far from consistent and the project itself was lacking in intersectionality.

In 2015, many of the same problems persist. One student, who completed Rez Project this year and wished to remained anonymous, pointed to the West-centric assumptions of the workshop.

“It seemed as though people with strong religious beliefs and people who grew up in [different cultures] were very taken aback by what was discussed.”

“It was automatically assumed that everyone grew up the same,” they told The Daily. “It seemed as though people with strong religious beliefs and people who grew up in [different cultures] were very taken aback by what was discussed, while also being judged by some of the volunteers.”

In response to concerns of Rez Project’s limited and West-centric focus, some McGill students have organized a new workshop titled Race Project, which will be mandatory for students in residence, beginning this January. However, many of Rez Project’s other shortcomings continue to go unaddressed.

Inadequate facilitator training

Criticisms of Rez Project go beyond its content. According to a Rez Project facilitator who wished to remain anonymous, facilitator trainings are often rushed, leaving little time to discuss more complex issues.

Lucie Lastinger, another Rez Project facilitator, agreed, but added that it is not only the facilitator training that needs reworking, but also the selection of facilitators.

Lastinger told The Daily, “In one of my workshops we ended up talking a lot about intersex people, and I don’t think [that] was mentioned at all – or only mentioned once or twice – during the training session. But if you don’t know much about intersex people, it would have been really difficult to deal with that [discussion].”

Ki-eun Peck, who has been a Rez Project facilitator for the past two years, argued that the facilitators themselves could be part of the problem, noting that facilitators “can say problematic things” during a workshop.

“Especially if you have bad workshops with students who are very combative, [it becomes] very difficult.”

“The thing I liked last year, as compared to this year, was that in last year’s training session they specified that if you are a facilitator who is in a position of a lot of privilege, and you notice that you’re talking a lot or talking over your other co-facilitator, you should try and take up less space,” Peck told The Daily.

Due to time constraints and uninterested participants, the workshops themselves can be very draining and place a heavy burden on facilitators. Though coordinators do get paid, facilitating Rez Project is unpaid volunteer work that demands significant time and emotional energy.

“Especially if you have bad workshops with students who are very combative, [it becomes] very difficult,” Rhiana Warawa, another Rez Project facilitator, pointed out.

Responding to these concerns in an email to The Daily, Rez Project coordinators Kelly Schieder, Sophia Salem, and Kai O’Doherty stated that they “recognize and acknowledge the issues raised.”

“Rez Project is a huge undertaking, logistically, pedagogically, and culturally. […] We collect feedback and make improvements every year, and we look forward to continuing to evolve Rez Project for next year,” they continued.

Ways to improve Rez Project

Despite the criticism, students and facilitators stressed the importance of Rez Project.

Lastinger said, “[Rez Project] does a lot of productive work for people in residences. […] For example, in my first year, Rez Project was where I learned what the word cis meant.”

Nevertheless, Lastinger emphasized that Rez Project should not just be a one-time occurrence. “I don’t think it necessarily has to be as formal as another workshop, it could also just be incorporation of these values and discussions throughout the semester between the floor fellow and their students,” they said.

“When I was a student, that didn’t really happen for me […] but I think that’s an important aspect, to continue the education. You learn about this once, and then you forget what cis means. If you’re talking about it a lot, it becomes ingrained, and you realize these are important issues,” they continued.

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The sold out show started off a little slowly, the energy in the room low as the group began with “Circle in the Dark,” off their second album, Picture You Staring.

But things picked up soon enough as the band broke into one of their bigger, bouncier tracks, “Change of Heart.” Before long, lead singer Jane Penny was spinning all over the stage. Penny and bassist Alana DeVito were dressed for the occasion in black wigs with pink ribbons and dresses to match.

Currently on tour with California group Puro Instinct, TOPS took the stage on October 31 at Fairmount Theatre for a Halloween show in their hometown.

The band played a number of new songs throughout the set, such as the recently released “Anything,” and “Hollow Sound of the Morning Chimes,” in which David Carriere captivated the crowd with his smooth guitar playing. Penny’s recorded vocals, light and airy in Picture You Staring, returned to the punkier belting of the band’s first album in several of these new tracks, adding a harshness that charged the live performance.

They only played for a short but sweet 45 minutes, but that was all they needed to get the crowd eating out of the palms of their hands. By the time they played their eighties-infused ballad “Outside,” the whole audience was singing along in a collective John Hughes fantasy dream. When they launched into their second to last song, “Way to Be Loved,” the room became a mosh pit. Within seconds, costumed crowd members took over the stage, dancing around the band and belting out the lyrics to the group’s most popular track.

Band members were hardly fazed, continuing to play with perfect coolness. Once security had cleared everyone off the stage, they launched into The Pretenders’ “Don’t Get Me Wrong,” – a solid cover, despite being an anticlimactic way to close after the rowdiness of “Way to Be Loved.”

After the show, the band slipped into the crowd and danced along with everyone else to the Blue Hawaii DJ set that followed. TOPS like to have fun, and it shows in their sets – they know how to get a crowd going without compromising the quality of their sound. Their dreamy yet dance-like tracks made for the perfect Halloween party; the show may not have been very spooky, but it certainly was a treat.

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Unfortunately, the same can’t be said of their live performances. The band took the stage at Montreal’s Corona Theatre on October 20 to a relatively full main floor for a performance that was largely unremarkable. The sound itself was the band’s first problem – right from the start, the mix was way too loud and trebly, causing the guitars to sound piercing and in-your-face. Typically dreamy tracks like “The Agency Group” and “Next of Kin” played heavy and distorted.

On top of the bad sound was a somewhat uninspired set from the band itself. The live element added nothing special to their recorded songs, and lead singer Molly Rankin’s vocals certainly could have benefited from the reverb used on the album. Though initially shaky, her voice settled in after a few songs, as Rankin delivered the high notes on “Red Planet” with her signature beautiful emptiness.

The band took the stage at Montreal’s Corona Theatre on October 20 to a relatively full main floor for a performance that was largely unremarkable.

What Rankin may have lacked in vocal chops, however, she made up for in stage presence. Her charming banter was endearingly Canadian as she joked about hockey, Justin Trudeau, and Montreal parking tickets. While her vocals are known for their lack of emotion, her live persona is all spirit, and kept the show going through its sound troubles. Rankin’s music may be nothing like the folk songs of her heritage – she comes from the popular Rankin Nova Scotian music family – but she clearly has the Celtic entertaining gene in her.

Alvvays played every track on their album, interspersed with new material; a cover of Camera Obscura’s “Lloyd, I’m Ready To Be Heartbroken” was particularly touching in its tribute to the Scottish band’s Carey Lander, who recently passed away. The new songs were surprisingly fast and punky, a departure from the first album, but at least fun to dance to. Not that the audience was doing much dancing – the crowd was mostly laid-back throughout the show, despite the occasional yell of “Marry me, Molly!” That is, until the final song, “Archie, Marry Me,” which had everyone singing along.

Alvvays are by no means overhyped – their pop-like ballads have a depth that stands strong within the Canadian indie scene. If Tuesday’s performance is any indication, though, they haven’t quite figured out how their live performances can match the expectations set by their debut album. Hopefully, they’ll take some time this winter to perfect their live sound. Then, who knows how big they could get.

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Beginning with the third track of her Birthday EP, “River,” Poliquin’s wistful, almost haunting vocals drifted over the song’s swelling synths – until she suddenly switched into an impressive high belt with palpable force. Poliquin’s voice has the unusual quality of being both immediately recognizable and malleable. The way she alternated between breathy and hard-hitting vocals called to mind Lowell, another talented Canadian vocalist and songwriter.

Her stage presence, however, could not be more different from the quirky and excitable Lowell. Poliquin barely engaged with the audience throughout her 45-minute set, instead letting the emotion in her vocals do the talking.

The songs themselves didn’t always  quite come together – the live mix of synth sounds sometimes seemed off, with certain samples sticking out awkwardly from the otherwise enveloping ambience. Some songs were almost too engulfing for a live performance, the small nuances in the layers hard to appreciate amidst a talkative audience. But KROY were not thrown by the loud crowd, and a performance of the EP’s title track, “Birthday” demonstrated particular concentration and passion.

KROY, while not yet seasoned performers like some of the acts they shared the stage with, certainly have the potential to evolve into a captivating electronic act. And that, perhaps, is the true value of Passovah, a small festival that provides a platform for new, independent artists to explore their potential – as opposed to a festival like POP, which features many of the same artists, but in an oversaturated lineup.

The trio closed with the opening song on Birthday, “Monstrosity.” It was an uplifting change – despite its title – from the rest of their sweetly sad tracks. As Poliquin sang “tell me that the night is over,” she allowed herself a sole smile – and it lit up the stage.

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While We’re Young:
Indie darling Noah Baumbach follows up his 2012 hit Frances Ha with this comedic take on growing old in the 21st century. The film stars Ben Stiller and Naomi Watts as middle-aged partners who befriend a much younger and happier couple, played by Amanda Seyfried and Adam Driver. Quirky identity crises ensue.

While We’re Young opened March 27, but will be showing at local theatre Cinema Du Parc starting April 10.

Straight Outta Compton:
This biographical drama tells the story of the rise and fall of N.W.A, one of hip hop’s most legendary groups. The film chronicles how rappers like Dr. Dre and Ice Cube turned their childhood experiences of racism and violence into powerful music that rebelled against the authorities. Produced by Dre and Ice Cube themselves, the film also stars Paul Giamatti – and you can never go wrong with Paul Giamatti.

Straight Outta Compton opens in theatres August 14.

Inside Out:
Pixar’s first film in two years tells the story of a young girl who moves to a new home, and has to deal with the five competing emotions inside her head. Sounds a little more like a psychological thriller than a kid’s movie, but given that Pixar is the company that brought us Up and Monsters, Inc., we can probably have full faith. With Amy Poehler lending her voice to the project, this film could be a poignant and funny look at girlhood.

Inside Out opens in theatres June 19.

Highway of Tears:
This documentary chronicles the disappearances of young, predominantly Indigenous women along Highway 16 in B.C.. Of the dozens of disappearances and murders, only one has been solved, revealing the systemic racism of a federal government that chooses to ignore these deaths. Part personal, part investigative, the documentary tells a heart breaking story that must be heard.

Highway of Tears has its Montreal premiere April 10 at the Montreal Museum of Fine Arts. There will be a Q&A with the director afterward.

TV:

Gracie and Frankie:
From Marta Kauffman, one of the creators of Friends, comes this new comedy that tells the story of two women whose husbands have left them and declared their love for each other. With the talented and funny Lily Tomlin and Jane Fonda in the title roles, this series has the potential to be the next big hit for Netflix.

Grace and Frankie premieres May 8.

Orphan Black:
Orphan Black arguably has the best representation politics on TV, passing not only the Bechdel test (at least two women who converse about something other than a man), but pretty much every other test out there for representations that are not white/male/cis dominated or heteronormative. Most of these representations are portrayed by the amazingly versatile Tatiana Maslany, who plays a collection of characters who figure out they’re identical clones with a price on their heads. It’s intriguing, it’s badass, and it’s Canadian – what more do you need?

Orphan Black returns Saturday April 18.

BESSIE
This HBO made-for-TV movie is a biopic of Bessie Smith, iconic blues singer of the 20s and 30s. Written and directed by Dee Rees, the film will feature Queen Latifah as the Empress of Blues. While Latifah has in the past proven her singing and comedic chops, it remains to be seen whether she will be able to bring the dramatic power needed to carry the film.

Bessie premieres May 16.

Call the Midwife:

For those currently experiencing Downton denial, you really must check out Call the Midwife which just kicked off its fourth season. This British period drama chronicles the life and times of midwives in the 1950s and 1960s, narrated by the inimitable Vanessa Redgrave. Yes, my mom loves it, but my mom also loves Friday Night Lights and The Sopranos, so stop your TV-genre stereotyping and settle in for some classic drama.

Call the Midwife returned March 29.

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Gender in art

This was a year of breaking barriers for women and trans people in art, both on campus and off. Women in Montreal actively claimed traditionally gendered roles, creating spaces to speak up about their experiences in art and life. Beyond representation, gender was also addressed thematically in creative work.

At McGill, women took control of the stage, as Tuesday Night Café (TNC) Theatre’s entire season of shows featured only women directors. In Montreal, the creation of an all-women DJ collective, FéMTL, again promoted the work of amazing women in a field where they remain largely invisible. As singer-songwriter Lowell pointed out to The Daily, it is too easy to assume that music production is only done by men. “I’m guilty of it too,” she explained, “And I know people have done the same thing to me.”

Art exhibits such as “Trans Time” – Montreal’s first ever trans collective art exhibit – and Galerie Donald Browne’s “Testosterone,” as well as the novel he, used art to de-naturalize gender binaries. Similarly, the women of LadyCab, a new Montreal-based web series, demonstrated the performativity of gender identities by dressing up as stereotypical ladies to critique patriarchal notions of femininity. We may not have smashed the patriarchy this year, but we certainly did some heavy damage.

Students in art

Juggling academic and creative pursuits no doubt poses unique challenges, but this has never stopped Montreal’s student artists from delving into the city’s art scenes. This year was no exception as student artists took the city by storm, fearlessly tackling taboo topics like intimacy in the Concordia student exhibit “(Intimacy) Limits and Consequences,” to granting old operas new life in Opera McGill’s production of Mozart’s “The Marriage of Figaro.”

Student communities fostered creative energy, support, and collaboration throughout the year. The annual MainLine Gala for Student Drama created space for three talented women to stage their original plays. McGill’s resident house collective Our House Music (OHM) brought together a tight-knit community of EDM lovers.

At McGill, students debunked the stereotype of an apathetic generation by bridging art and activism. The inaugural Hip Hop Week Montreal taught the university its first lessons about hip hop – a cultural movement that is often ignored in classroom settings despite (or perhaps because of) its political power. The Arab Students’ Association (ASA) spotlighted the social and political power of theatre by staging the Theatre of the Oppressed, inviting spectators to resist everyday oppressions on stage. Student theatre companies across McGill delved into sensitive topics this year, impressing their audiences with taboo stories and with their theatrical innovation. Daring in their approaches, Montreal’s student artists left few stones unturned this year.

Community and culture in Montreal

A city of 1.6 million people, Montreal is known for its cool vibes, its party life, and its poutine. The city is also, however, a metropolis of arts and culture, home to thriving music, theatre, art, and experimental scenes all characterized by their sense of community.

A short trip up to the Mile End will take you to the Drawn & Quarterly bookstore, whose monthly Graphic Novel Book Club brings together an assortment of Montreal folks with little in common but their love of graphic novels. Beer in hand, the attendees discuss a different book each month, analyzing and assessing the designs in a comfortable atmosphere.

For those less interested in graphic novels, the Confabulation storytelling series at MainLine Theatre offers a different kind of community. At these monthly events, all are invited to get up on stage and share a personal experience or spin a yarn. In breaking down the fourth wall, these evenings add a layer of intimacy and authenticity that can sometimes be lost in theatre.

Even the events that only take place once a year offer a glimpse into the love and passion that comes with Montreal culture. This year, POP Montreal provided an opportunity for members of the local music community to come together and take over the city, while its exhibits and panels chronicled the lives of these musicians. Just a few weeks after POP, Montrealers were dressing up and dressing down to celebrate the community of freaks and lovers that is Rocky Horror.
The important thing to remember is that the McGill community isn’t the only one out there – and when you’re feeling isolated on campus, there’s always more to explore.

Saving the Earth with art

Saving planet earth from destruction has become a central concern for our generation, and this year, many Montrealers turned to artistic and cultural mediums to address these concerns. Cinema Politica Concordia kicked off its season with the 2014 documentary Cowspiracy: The Sustainability Secret, which points to animal agriculture as the primary cause of environmental damage today. The film cast the spotlight on an ugly and overlooked culture of overconsumption.
Literally taking matters into their own hands, the employees at Montreal cafe and skills-sharing co-op Le Milieu provided some answers to this trend by hosting “Dumpster Dining,” a culinary workshop. The event served up a mouth-watering reminder that “we can actually make delicious food from food that is otherwise thrown in the trash,” as facilitator Rachel Chainey put it. Multimedia art project Alchemy of Waste also challenged popular perceptions of trash, repackaging landfill-destined goods as artistic mediums.

Using art as direct action, Montreal’s annual PARK(ing) Day kicked out over 200 cars in Montreal from parking lots around the city, reimagining them as creative spaces.

From education to creation to action, these environmental artists demonstrated the variety of innovative ways in which everyone can promote sustainability.

Critiquing oppressive narratives

Art has historically been used both to oppress and to liberate. This year in Montreal, certain art exhibits tended toward the former. The Montreal Museum of Fine Arts sadly but shamelessly enshrined racist and misogynistic tropes of orientalism in its “Marvels and Mirages of Orientalism” exhibit. In an attempt to defy authority, Galerie UQAM’s exhibit, “The Disorderliness of Things,” ironically upheld certain oppressive narratives. By critiquing the corporatized workplace, suburban parenthood, and the like, the exhibit thus only addressing the narratives that oppress more privileged members of society.

Critiquing oppression was much more successful outside of formal gallery spaces. The last weeks of summer saw wheatpastes around the city declaring “Decolonize Turtle Island,” a powerful mark left by the Anti-colonial Street Artists Convergence. At McGill, art/activist duo DarkMatter took on the racial hierarchies that dominate queer movements, shutting down the false promise that ‘it gets better’ with poignant pieces like “It Gets Bourgi.” Also using spoken word, Remi Kanazi smashed rhetorics of neutrality that silence the Palestinian struggle. It was overall a year of critical thinking, with both artists and critics holding us accountable.

Culture picks 2014-15

2014-15 was a year to be proud of local art, as Montreal continued to prove itself as a hub of creativity in Canada. This year’s performances and exhibits shared marginalized stories, called out mainstream media, and mused on the meaning of the digital age. Here are a few of our favourites:

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Best album: COIN COIN Chapter Three: River Run Thee

The new album from Roberts, saxophonist and stalwart of the Montreal scene, is the artist’s most experimental endeavour. Through sax drones and electronic pulses, Roberts creates eerie soundscapes for her vocal performances to weave through, as she tells surreal stories of Black history. As Grace Bill put it in her article in The Daily, “the result is abstract yet beautiful, evoking a powerful dread or unreality.”

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Best play: Dear Elizabeth

Based on hundreds of letters sent between the two, Tuesday Night Café (TNC) Theatre’s production chronicled the almost-love of poets Elizabeth Bishop and Robert Lowell. Delving deep into their psyches, it depicted adoration, depression, and, above all, loneliness. Julia Borsellino and Max Katz were beautiful in their portrayals of Bishop and Lowell, while director Marina Miller deftly staged their separation as its own kind of poetry.

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Best book: Something You Were, Might Have Been, or Have Come to Represent

Written by Jay Winston Ritchie, editor-in-chief of The Void magazine, Something You Were, Might Have Been, or Have Come to Represent is the perfect picture of the awkward existence of young musicians in Montreal. A book of short stories, it chronicles the lives of aspiring artists as they struggle to make time for songwriting in between lecture halls and call centre jobs. Ritchie paints a beautiful and familiar portrait of the city, creating a world that will resonate with any student, musician or not.

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Art to keep your eye on: Underwater City

Disability activist Aimee Louw launched her new multimedia endeavour, the Underwater City Project, this year. The first part of the project is a zine that chronicles her search for “the most accessible city in Canada,” as Louw assesses the accessibility of five major Canadian cities. Louw uses the idea of the underwater city as a metaphor for an accessible utopia – if urban life were underwater, there would be no transit barriers. The project will eventually be a full documentary, but for now the zine has got our attention.

The post Year in review: Culture appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Just as refreshing, though, is the Canadian Guild of Crafts’ current exhibition, “Inuit Women Artists.” The works in this exhibit chronicle Inuit women’s art from three generations of artists. Drawing on personal experiences, environment, and legends, the seventeen artists in this exhibit tell stories of “individual and collective practices of women over the last century.” The exhibit closes this week, so make sure to see it before it goes. Even if you’re not asleep, the expression and creativity in “Inuit Women Artists” might still make you think you’re dreaming.

Niyousha’s Pick: HABITAT: Experimental Visions of Montreal
Montreal is a city full of strange adventures waiting to be had – something we too often forget as students in the McGill bubble. Ideally, we should be venturing beyond this bubble all the time, exploring every bump and corner of this city, expanding our vision of Montreal. But if for whatever reason you can only venture as far as La Sala Rossa this week, then that might be just enough. Sala is hosting a social event and film screening called HABITAT, featuring films that spotlight the Montreal environment across six decades. The screening interweaves iconic landmarks like Mont-Royal Park and nameless back alleys, promising to show Montreal from every angle – “at once dystopic and utopic, eerily empty and actively engaged, brutish and brimming with life.” So get ready for a visual adventure in this surreal snowy city we call home.

 
“Inuit Women Artists” runs until Saturday, March 28 at the Canadian Guild of Crafts (1460-B Sherbrooke).

HABITAT: Experiemental Visions of Montreal is Thursday, March 26 at La Sala Rossa (4848 St. Laurent) at 8 p.m..

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Rosie’s Pick: Hip Hop Week Montreal
For those who like to listen, make some time in your schedule this week for a Montreal music event that is not to be missed: Hip Hop Week Montreal. Since its inception 35 years ago, hip hop has been revolutionizing popular culture, from Grandmaster Flash to Kanye. But what does this genre, which has undergone internal revolutions of its own, mean today? Through speakers, panels, showcases, and more, Hip Hop Week Montreal will explore the current state of the genre in relation to politics and society at-large, and will also be looking ahead into the genre’s future. Must-attend events include “Big Booty Hos: Panel on Gender, Sexuality & Feminism in Hip Hop,” and “Fight the Power: Panel on Hip Hop, Activism and Revolution,” not to mention performances from influential MCs Jean Grae and Rakim. Plus, the week raises funds for No Bad Sound, a local studio that supports aspiring artists. Hip Hop Week Montreal gives you the chance to hear something a little different from your Monday morning lectures.

 
The vagina puppet-making workshop is Monday, March 16 and Thursday, March 18 from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. at 10 Des Pins, #414.

Hip Hop Week Montreal runs from March 15 to 21 at various locations. Head to hiphopweekmtl.com for more details.

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Niyousha’s Pick: Workshop: Pipelines & Tar Sands/Raps for Social Justice
Start your week on the right beat this Monday with a workshop from Climate Justice Montreal and rappers Waahli and Lou of Nomadic Massive. Focusing on pipelines and tar sands, this workshop is a chance to expand your environmental knowledge and learn how to compose rap lyrics with a social justice bent.

The workshop also allows participants to prepare for what promises to be an epic event: the Rap Battle Against the Tar Sands, where you can put your skills to the test. It will be more than just a showcase of incredible social justice rap – it’ll also serve as a fundraiser for Aamjiwnaang + Sarnia Against Pipelines (ASAP), a community group that acts as a forum for “action around the toxic reality of living in Chemical Valley” for Aamjiwnaang First Nation community members. The rap battle will feature some fierce competition, so polish your beats at the workshop this Monday – you’ll learn a lot, whether or not you plan on taking the stage.

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