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The benefits of being Black in a mostly non-Black community

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A Black person with an afro is trying to prevent a white person from touching their hair. The white person is saying “OMG! How do you get your hair to do that!”
ILLUSTRATION: Yan Ting Leung / The Peak

By: C Icart, Humour Editor

Kendrick performed at the Super Bowl last week, and while I didn’t watch the performance (I refuse to watch men crash into each other for fun), that didn’t mean I was exempt from seeing all the whining about it online. Some called it a “DEI halftime show,” while others complained, DEI only goes one direction.” All this is code for, “I saw too many Black people on my TV, make it stop.” As you know, racists are hardwired to get suspicious and jumpy when they see more than five Black people in the same space. Which is something I rarely get to experience since I moved here. Did you know only one percent of BC’s population is Black? That basically makes me a mythical creature when you think about it. But it’s not all bad. There are, in fact, benefits to being Black in a mostly non-Black community. 

1. You get compliments on your hair no matter what No matter how often I explain that my hair does just grow out of my head like that, people are still staring in awe and asking me what I did to it. I can keep my braids in for too long, and people will still be wowed. Apparently, non-Black people almost never change their hair (not sure why, seems like a sad way to live), so it’s always so notable to them when I sport a new hairstyle. Once, I was getting off an airplane and a bald white man, who I assume was the pilot standing at the entrance, stopped me to tell me he wished he could have his hair like mine. I laughed, pretending it was the first time I’d ever had an interaction like that with a bald white man. I’m pretty sure the lady who searched my fro at the airport security also told me she liked my hair. 

2. You get to practice your impersonation skills

People always tell me I should do stand-up. Which I’m not gonna do. I’m a grad student. I’m already getting screwed over financially, why would I try to get other poorly paid gigs? So instead of impersonating people on stage for very little money, I do it for free every time I get mistaken for literally any other Black person. Once, a Black girl came up to me in a café like, “Are you (random name)?” and I said no and she looked at me in shock and said, “What are the odds there’s more than two Black people in here!” Homegirl didn’t even know what the person she was looking for looked like. She just assumed she would get to the location and whichever Black person was there would be the one. I was attending a keynote last year and one of the organizers thought I was the guest speaker. I should’ve committed and claimed the real speaker was impersonating me! 

Welp, that’s it! What? You thought the list would be longer? There’s only so much I can say when the Caribbean food here is lacking, the DJs are playing god knows what in the club, and seemingly only a handful of salons will accept to do my hair. At least I can count on always having people reach out to me to organize Black History Month things! And sometimes they even pay!

Travel the world in music with International Guitar Night

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Four performers wave out to a stage while lit up in purple spotlights.
PHOTO: Izzy Cheung / The Peak

By: Izzy Cheung, Arts & Culture Editor

When one mentions the guitar, you may think of it as an accompanying instrument — a twinkle in the background of a singer’s vocals. But as proven on February 1 by International Guitar Night’s stop in New Westminster, there’s more to this instrument than what meets the eye. The tour, which will be making stops all across North America until the end of March, features the string-based artistry of Latin swing guitarist Lulo Reinhardt, romantic musician Alexandra Whittingham, the Soukous sound-inspired Niwel Tsumbu, and the enchanting Sönke Meinen and his folk-based ballads. 

“The idea behind this festival — it’s such a beautiful thing — is trying to get together four musicians from very different musical universes,” Meinen told The Peak prior to their first concert. 

“All the guitar players doing this professionally would aim to be a part of this,” he explained the significance of the tour to him. “We have 43 concerts in 10 weeks, which is a massive tour. It’s the longest tour of my life — I took my whole April off just to be safe.”   

This is Meinen’s first time on the tour, as well as his first time meeting his fellow performers. Despite not working together before, their sounds have been seamless, weaving together as artfully as the threads of a large tapestry. 

“Niwel is doing his traditional African influences. You hear the classical music of Alexandra in the other corner of the room, and then Lulo is playing his Latin swing. I think it will be very inspiring.” 

Inspiring, it was. I entered New Westminster’s Massey Theatre with no expectations, as I’d never been to a show that strictly focuses on one instrument. Upon sitting in my seat, I noticed that the stage looked simple, hosting only four chairs, four guitars, and a few microphones scattered around. Nothing else. 

“It’s just a wooden box with six strings. It’s such a simple concept, but there are so many different musical universes in there.” — Sönke Meinen, guitarist and composer

The show began with a dramatic ballad by Reinhardt, written for an old friend he met on tour who he exchanged letters with before she passed away. The deft plucking of the strings wove the smell of burnt oak wood through my nostrils, creating the visual of a desolate plain where I was the only visitor. This was quickly followed up by Whittingham’s solo set, which reminded me of walking through Van Dusen Botanical Garden during the spring. Hearing her guitar’s delicate, harp-like preens made me want to put on my cutest summer dress and have a picnic among pink-petaled tulips. 

Meinen started the second-half of the solo performances by perching himself atop his trademark wooden stool. He knocked his hands against the guitar with poise as he drew the audience into a fiery performance reminiscent of crackling flames. Startlingly, he followed this up with a composition best suited to stories of a faraway island home to graceful mermaids. With ripples like those from a lyre, he conjured the feeling of cold seawater and thick fog amid an audience dressed for the snow. 

Tsumbu wrapped up the solos with songs that whisked the audience away to a beachfront vacation. I felt the mist of the salted ocean splash against my face as he lulled the audience into singing “na na na” alongside him. If I closed my eyes, I would have imagined I was sitting in a wooden boat while being serenaded with the rich tunes of the Democratic Republic of Congo. 

The duo and quartet performances were just as impressive as the artists’ solos. Meinen had talked about the group’s goal with this performance, and as each pair took turns spinning the theatre into a different story, it was clear they did exactly that. 

“Music is there to tell stories, and that’s what we do onstage. If people are touched by it, then we achieved everything we wanted to achieve,” Meinen told me. “If we are able to move the people and they feel better when they leave the concert compared to when they came, then we achieved everything. That’s the goal of every concert, to just get people out of their everyday life. It doesn’t matter if it’s a small concert or a big one.” 

As a finale, Tsumbu took the helm by teaching the audience some lyrics to an African song that he said would take us to a jungle in Congo. Guitar strings reminiscent of the beats of steel drums echoed throughout the small theatre as every guitarist contributed to the song. Along with the hums of “ma ma ma” from the audience, every person in attendance seemed to be part of the lush, inspiring peace. 

When I settled back down at home, mind still churning in a sea of musical mastery, I thought back to something that Meinen had told me about the guitar a couple of weeks before. “It’s just a wooden box with six strings. It’s such a simple concept, but there are so many different musical universes in there.” As a settler in kʷikʷəƛ̓əm, I experienced how Latin, British, German, and Congolese influences can take you to a completely different world of musical complexity with just one insturument.

The intersections of colonialism and the climate crisis in Western Sahara

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This is a photo of a Western Sahara flag with the blue sky in the background.
IMAGE: Gudrun Wai-Gunnarsson / The Peak

By: Kiana Montakhab, SFU Student

On January 17, Embark Sustainability, the Centre for Comparative Muslim Studies, and Spheres of Influence e-zine hosted a presentation titled “Western Sahara is a Climate Justice Issue” on the Burnaby campus. The talk focused on the intersections of climate justice and the ongoing struggle for self-determination of the Sahrawi people. Parsa Alirezaei, an SFU research assistant, managing editor at Spheres of Influence, and former intern at the International Court of Justice, was the event’s featured speaker. He highlighted Morocco’s exploitation of Western Sahara’s natural resources and its contribution to climate injustice. 

Western Sahara is a long-disputed territory in North Africa. It not only has the largest phosphate reserves in the world but also some of the richest fishing waters globally, making the region highly valuable for its natural resources. This has made Western Sahara a focal point for colonial agendas, starting with Spain in the 20th century.

In 1973, the Polisario Front started to rise. Primarily composed of the Sahrawis, the Indigenous people of Western Sahara, the organization initially sought to liberate Western Sahara from Spanish colonial control and establish self-determination. After Spain withdrew in 1975, the territory became occupied by Morocco and Mauritania through the Madrid Accords. The situation escalated with the launch of the Green March, as 350,000 unarmed Moroccan civilians marched into Western Sahara and claimed the region as part of Morocco. This pressured Spain to cede control, marking the start of Morocco’s illegal occupation.

The Polisario Front shifted its focus to opposing Moroccan dominance, resulting in a 16-year-long guerrilla war that displaced thousands. Many Sahrawis remain in refugee camps in Algeria’s Tindouf region. According to the UN Refugee Agency, “more than 173,000 people need humanitarian assistance in five camps” and economic opportunities available to Sahrawi refugees are “extremely limited.” Alirezaei explained that the jobs available are “low-wage labour jobs in agriculture,” small-scale “illicit trade,” and refugee tourism. He said that despite a 1991 UN-brokered ceasefire promising a self-determination referendum, it has “never came about.”

“People who are least responsible for the emissions and climate change itself are most vulnerable to its consequences.” — Parsa Alirezaei, SFU research assistant, managing editor at Spheres of Influence, former intern at the International Court of Justice

Alirezaei also explained that since the Green March, Morocco has sponsored settler colonial schemes, wherein Moroccan citizens relocate to Western Sahara under the promise of “economic incentives” and “national conquest.” In the process of greenwashing the land, he said Morocco has invested heavily in infrastructure projects, such as “wind farms and solar panels,” exploiting the region’s resources.

“With the help of North American, Chinese, and European corporations,” Morocco has illegally exploited Western Sahara’s abundant natural resources, said Alirezaei. According to estimates from the Western Sahara Resource Watch (WSRW), Morocco’s revenue from Western Sahara’s phosphate reserves alone could have reached as much as $655.5 million USD in 2022. 

Canada is deeply established in this extraction enterprise. According to WSRW, from 2013 to 2017, Canadian companies Agrium and PotashCorp accounted for “49.5% of the total trade” of phosphate rocks from the occupied Western Sahara. After merging in 2018 to form Nutrien, the company ceased importing phosphate from Western Sahara due to international pressure and criticism over supporting Morocco’s occupation.

Alirezaei stressed, “People who are least responsible for the emissions and climate change itself are most vulnerable to its consequences.” He said that “the particular region that the Sahrawis are living in, and trying to make their living in, in this hyper precarious circumstance, is one of the most vulnerable areas to climate change in the world.”  

Struggles of minority groups across the world continue to share patterns of colonial expansion, exploitation, and displacement. At the end of the presentation, Alirezaei stated, “There’s no way that you look at Palestine and then you look at Kurdistan and then you look at Western Sahara as completely discrete events happening, separate from common historical critical junctures.” 

Horoscopes February 17–23

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An illustration of a girl, stars and astrological signs strewn in her hair.
ILLUSTRATION: Marissa Ouyang / The Peak

By: C Icart, Humour Editor

Aries
March 21–April 19 

“It’s private, but no.” 
The stars think you should spend more time telling nosy people to mind their business, and then still answer their questions. 

Taurus
April 20–May 20

“Um, Shabana. Would you like to speak, Shabana?”
You are the centre of attention whenever you walk into a room, but that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be humble. Behind every great woman, there’s a Shabana. Don’t forget to shout out yours. 

Gemini
May 21–June 20

“I’m launching a Bitcoin under Onijah Styles LLC.”
The stars foresee big financial success for you. Once you lose all your money buying meme coins, you’ll have no choice but to learn financial literacy! 

Cancer
June 21–July 22

“I would like to clear the air. Anything that you hear that’s not true, that’s not true. OK? Thank you.”
The stars need you to know that haters will make up lies about you, but you shouldn’t pay attention to them at all. It’s all a distraction, and you’re too booked and busy to pay attention. 

Leo
July 23–August 22

“I’m here to open up real estate and build houses in the back and pools for the people.”
Did you know there’s an atrocious amount of brokerage reality TV shows? The stars call it the Selling Sunsetification of Netflix and they recommend that you tune in. You won’t learn anything about real estate, but once in a while someone wears a cute outfit. 

Virgo
August 23–September 22

“I’m getting my Pakistani passport and Pakistani ID. I’m getting it. Do y’all agree?” 

Interacting with literally any government agency is a pain in the butt, but not for you. The stars predict you will get every document you need with ease. You just need to walk in there and tell the employee you’re getting it. 

Libra
September 23–October 22

“I demand from the government more than $5,000 USD to make Pakistan a better place. Goodnight.” 
Libra, your assertive era begins today. You know what you want and it’s time to demand it from one branch of government at a time. 

Scorpio
October 23–November 21

“I’m from here, now.”
Identity, citizenship, and belonging are all deeply personal and complex things. You know where you’re from and you know where you’re going. Don’t let anyone use your passport against you ever. 

Sagittarius
November 22–December 21

“I’m Muslim and it’s against my religion to tell you my business. Have a nice day.” 
Regardless of your religion, the stars do advise that you stop telling people your business. You’re not famous enough for it to ever come back and bite you, but still, spare us. 

Capricorn
December 22–January 19

“I don’t live here, I’m chilling. It’s none of your business. Now, go home.”
Have you been getting an increase in spam/scam calls recently? Well, if putting your number on a Do Not Call List does not work (it doesn’t we tried), consider answering the phone with this quote moving forward. 

Aquarius
January 20–February 18 

“I’m asking for $100K or more. I need $20K by this week, in my pocket, in cash.” 
Manifest that money Aquarius! If you do not ask, you will not receive. Ask your boss for a raise, ask your mom for allowance, ask your little sister for her piggy bank, or more!

Pisces
February 19–March 20

“I’m not talking, unless y’all giving me land and $2,000 or more every week. You hear me?”The stars need you to know your worth, Pisces. The spirit of collaboration is OUT! That guy who never comes to class is asking you what he missed in yesterday’s lecture? Don’t give it for free! NAME YOUR PRICE! 

Need to Know, Need to Go: Black History Month events

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A film projector shines a light through a dark space.
PHOTO: Alex Nitvin / Unsplash

By: Manal Kashif, SFU Student

February is Black History Month so here is a curated list of events everyone can attend while learning about the history of struggles, successes, and  perseverance of Black people all over the world. These events range from being held by SFU clubs/societies to throughout Vancouver. 

SFPIRG Movie Night Screening

SOCA Lounge, SUB 1430 (SFU Burnaby)
Monday, February 24 at 6:30 p.m.
Price: free

Enjoy an evening of lively discussion as SFU Students Of Caribbean and African Ancestry (SOCA), Canada-Philippines Solidarity for Human Rights (CPSHR), and Simon Fraser Public Interest Research Group (SFPIRG) present a screening of Black August (2007). This movie follows the journey of prison inmate, George Jackson, as he becomes a political activist for prisoners’ rights in San Quentin prison during the 1960s. Be sure to RSVP for this event at the link in SFPIRG’s bio (@SFPIRG on Instagram).

Sounds and Pressure: Reggae in a Foreign Land Series

North Vancouver City Library, 120 W 14th St. 
Wednesday, February 26, 7:00 p.m.
Price: free

Sounds and Pressure: Reggae in a Foreign Land (2024) is an anthology consisting of five short films. The National Film Board of Canada has put this series together to showcase the talent of some of the best Jamaican artists as they take Canada’s music scene in the reggae genre by storm. Don’t miss out the chance to view this free screening of this musical collective at the North Vancouver City Library! If you aren’t able to make it to the screening, be sure to watch the films online for free at nfb.ca. 

Community Kitchen: Celebrating Black Heritage with SOCA

SUB Community Kitchen, room 2125 (SFU Burnaby)
Thursday, February 27, 5:30 p.m.9:30 p.m.  
Price: free

Embark Sustainability’s Community Kitchen, located at the SFU Burnaby campus, is a great place for students to connect and learn to cook healthy meals. It is also where SFU SOCA members, Stacy and Mekeil, will be coming by to teach delicious and easy-to-make recipes. Take this cultural dive into Jamaican steamed callaloo (leafy green side dish) and Kenyan ugali (cornmeal porridge) as you learn how to make various foods while learning about the diverse flavours of East Africa and the Caribbean. 

African Cinema Now! 

VIFF Centre, 1181 Seymour St., Vancouver
Dates throughout the month
Price: ranges from $1116

If you are interested in broadening your knowledge of Black history, the Vancouver International Film Festival (VIFF Centre) is presenting films throughout February as part of a collective called “African Cinema Now!,” created by Akojo Film Collective. This collection will feature films such as Atlantics (2019), Chez Jolie Coiffure (2018), Dilli Dark (2023), and Tori and Lokita (2022)

Stayin’ Alive: The radical origins and legacy of disco

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Illustration of a silhouette of a person with an afro hairstyle and gold hoop earings, on top, a silver disco ball.
ILLUSTRATION: Winnie Shen / The Peak

By: Kiana Montakhab, SFU student

Not many people know about the politically-charged history of disco. More than just a soundtrack for glittering dance floors and late-night hedonism, disco was a movement, one that provided a revolutionary space for Black, Latinx, and 2SLGBTQIA+ communities to reclaim joy and visibility in a world that sought to erase them. Unlike most music genres, the origins of disco are highly debated. The term “disco” itself is derived from the French word “discothèque,” which refers to a dance-oriented nightclub where recorded music is played rather than live performances. Some pinpoint these discothèques, which emerged in the ‘60s, as the origins of disco, but it wasn’t until the underground dance scenes of the ‘70s New York City that it truly began

In the wake of the Stonewall Uprising in 1969, a pivotal moment in the fight for 2SLGBTQIA+ rights, mainstream club scenes remained largely unwelcoming. As a result, the movement went underground, flourishing in hidden venues where marginalized communities found refuge and freedom. One of the most recognized events were, and continue to be, David Mancuso’s The Loft parties. Described as an “egalitarian utopia,” Manusco’s parties emphasized community and connection for those seeking a liberating space. Mancuso, a pioneer in the art of DJing, was an expert at curating a vibe. He carefully selected tracks from a diverse array of genres, seamlessly blending progressive soul, Philly soul, Latin American dance music, and African music to create an immersive experience for dancers. It was in spaces like The Loft that disco’s distinct sound began taking shape.

As a music genre and cultural movement, disco would not exist without the contributions of Black artists like Donna Summer, Gloria Gaynor, Sylvester, and many more. These artists, with their powerful vocals and mesmerizing beats, transformed dance floors into spaces of liberation and joy, often releasing songs with socially resonant themes. Tracks like Gaynor’s immensely famous “I Will Survive” became an anthem of resilience, while Sylvester’s “You Make Me Feel (Mighty Real)” celebrated queer identity at a time when such visibility was incredibly rare. 

Music wasn’t the only player setting up disco culture. Fashion, an undeniably political form of expression, was just as intertwined in disco culture as it was with its music. Historically, fashion has been a tool of resistence and identity, from the suffragettes’ white dresses to the Black Panther Party’s leather jackets and berets. Throughout history, clothing has been used to challenge societal norms, signal allegiance to movements, and assert visibility for marginalized groups. From the suffragettes’ white dresses symbolizing purity and defiance to the Black Panther Party’s leather jackets and berets embodying strength and revolution, fashion has always carried messages beyond aesthetics. 

In disco fashion was a radical act; Black, Latinx, and queer communities adorned themselves in bold, extravagant attire to reclaim space and challenge mainstream ideals of beauty and gender. Androgynous looks, sequins, platform shoes, and flowing fabrics were more than just trends; they were statements of defiance in a world that often sought to erase them. Many of disco’s most iconic fashion trends can be traced back to Black communities, especially Black women who pioneered the era’s most celebrated styles. Disco divas like Diana Ross, and Grace Jones adorned themselves in luxurious fabrics, dazzling sequins and rhinestones, as well as theatrical, over-the-top accessories that amplified their larger-than-life presence. The influence of their glamour extended far beyond the dance floor, shaping trends that continue to be embraced today,  including hoop earrings, acrylic nails, bold makeup, and lettuce hems.

Disco was a movement, one that provided a revolutionary space for Black, Latinx, and 2SLGBTQIA+ communities to reclaim joy, identity, and visibility in a world that sought to erase them.

At its height, disco became both a peak cultural phenomenon and a victim of its own success. Studio 54 was an opulent symbol of this duality: an iconic nightclub that showcased the glitz and excess of disco while also contributing to its mainstream commercialization. Many have only heard myths about Studio 54 — wild tales of celebrities, anonymous sex on rubber balconies, extravagant cocaine usage, that picture of Bianca Jagger on a horse. Some of its celebrity clientele included Michael Jackson, Salvador Dalí, and Margaret Trudeau (yeah, that one). Yet, even as it rose to fame as the defining nightclub of its era, it symbolized disco’s shift from an inclusive, underground movement to a commercialized spectacle. The contributions of the marginalized communities who built disco were erased, while an influx of wealthy, white partygoers flocked to the scene, captivated by its glitz but ignoring its cultural significance. Saturday Night Fever, a movie that centres white John Travolta as the face of disco, further cemented this erasure, repackaging disco as a straight, white phenomenon and stripping it of its radical roots. While the film popularized disco across the culturally suburban areas of the US and beyond, it did so at the expense of the communities that had birthed the genre.

The mainstreaming of disco, with its focus on sanitized, radio-friendly hits led to a backlash that cultivated the “Disco Sucks” movement. Spearheaded by Steve Dahl, a rock radio host who loathed disco’s dominance over the airwaves, “Disco Sucks” was more than just a rock vs. disco musical preference; it evolved into a cultural battle fueled by racism, homophobia, and a reactionary rejection of disco’s association with marginalized communities. Dahl called his followers the “Coho Lips,” a reference to the coho salmon that were released into the Great Lakes to rid the water of parasites — not a very subtle metaphor that framed disco and its marginalized community as parasites to be eradicated. The movement reached its peak on July 12, 1979, during Disco Demolition Night at Comiskey Park in Chicago, where thousands gathered to watch disco records explode in a fiery spectacle. What was framed as an anti-commercialism protest was, in reality, a violent rejection of the spaces and identities disco had uplifted. The crowd, overwhelmingly white and male, turned the event into a chaotic riot, storming the field of the ballpark and setting records ablaze, a symbolic purging of disco’s cultural influence. 

In the aftermath, the industry responded swiftly. Radio stations abandoned disco playlists, record labels dropped artists associated with the genre, and “disco” became a dirty word in popular culture. The radical social movements and cultural revolutions of the ‘60s and ‘70s, driven by civil rights activism, 2SLGBTQIA+ liberation, and anti-establishment sentiments, gradually gave way to the conservative resurgence of the ‘80s, marked by free-market economics, moral panics, and a backlash against the very progress that had defined the previous decades — sounds familiar, right?

Yet, while the mainstream moved on, disco never truly disappeared. Its influence seeped into house, techno, and electronic dance music, genres that carried forward its legacy of liberation and community-building on the dance floor. What the “Disco Sucks” movement failed to erase was the undeniable truth that disco had transformed the way people moved, celebrated, and resisted — its heart remained beating to the rhythm of the night long after the fire at Comiskey Park was extinguished.

Vancouver may have earned the nickname “No-Fun City” in recent years, but its past tells a much livelier story. Opening its doors in 1975 and nestled in a concrete building on Seymour and Drake, Luv-a-Fair was the beating heart of the city’s underground nightlife — a sanctuary where disco lovers, punks, goths, drag queens, and new wavers converged under flashing purple neon lights to lose themselves in the music. Though Luv-a-Fair shut down its doors for good in 2003, sacrificed to Vancouver’s ever-growing condo boom, nostalgic Vancouverites remember it as the “heyday of Vancouver’s club scene.” Other beloved nightclubs of the era include The Pink Pussycat, The Smilin’ Buddha, and Oil Can Harry’s. Nevertheless, disco remains alive and well in Vancouver, thriving in retro-themed club nights, bars, and drag performances which celebrate the genre’s glamorous aesthetics and liberating energy. Venues like Fox Cabaret, The Birdhouse, and Rolla Skate Club regularly host disco events. 

As Black History Month prompts reflection on cultural contributions, disco serves as a powerful reminder of how Black artistry shaped not just a music genre, but an entire way of life. Disco remains more than just a fleeting trend; it stands as a testament to resilience and a powerful reminder that the dance floor has always been political — a space where joy is both defiant and transformative.

Long-time Vancouver tenant fights bad-faith eviction

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This is a photo of Abby Leung speaking into a mic, where members of the VTU stand behind her in support.
PHOTO: Courtesy of Vancouver Tenants Union

By: Lucaiah Smith-Miodownik, News Writer

For one long-time Vancouver tenant, the future is uncertain. Abby Leung has lived in Kensington-Cedar Cottage for over 17 years. She told CityNews Vancouver that she’s never been late to pay rent and has “maintained a good relationship with her landlord.” This includes taking care of her landlord’s dog, according to the Vancouver Tenants Union (VTU). Now Leung, who shared she is elderly and has a mental and physical disability, faces eviction from her basement suite. The VTU is currently helping Leung with collective action as they are “committed to educating renters on their rights and standing up to landlords and developers.” 

To understand how the situation progressed, it’s necessary to take a few steps back. According to the VTU, Leung’s landlord originally suggested eviction “so that family members or homestays could move in.” Then, in November 2023, the landlord told Leung that her rent would be increased by 42% beginning in March. This suggested increase was 12 times the “legal provincially regulated allowable rent increase,” which was 3.5% in 2024. Leung told her landlord the increase would be unjust, but ultimately agreed to a 24% increase, feeling pressured. The VTU stated the landlord then grew angry with Leung. “I was so anxious and nervous, and so depressed. I stayed home and cried,” she told CityNews

Come September 2024, Leung’s landlord served her with an eviction notice. Section 49 of the Residential Tenancy Act refers to “landlord use” evictions, stating “a landlord may end a tenancy with four months’ notice if the landlord or their close family member intends to occupy the rental unit.” 

“Eviction with the ‘landlord use’ is rising,” Leung told the VTU in an interview on Instagram. “A lot of landlords use this excuse to evict long-term tenants, particularly the vulnerable, people just like seniors.” Artemisia Yang, a volunteer with the VTU, told CityNews, “We see across Vancouver, which is the eviction capital of Canada, where landlords will use all sorts of bogus reasons — not just landlord use, but damage to property — to evict the tenants in order to raise the rent.”  The rental increase limit does not apply between tenancies, except for single-room units in Vancouver.

According to a 2023 story from Global News, “BC seniors who face eviction from long-term, affordable rental housing face ‘catastrophic’ consequences.” They reported that “there’s been an ‘uptick’ in the number of people over 60 in homeless shelters, and even single-room occupancy buildings are now financially out of reach for many.”

“We need a system to protect the tenants, and not provide the loophole for the landlord to abuse.” — Abby Leung, Vancouver tenant

The Residential Tenancy Act also includes a good faith clause, which “requires honesty of intention with no ulterior motive” for the eviction. Leung believes her landlord may have intended to re-rent the apartment at a higher price. “We need a system to protect the tenants, and not provide the loophole for the landlord to abuse,” she told the VTU, referring to how landlord-use evictions are too easy for landlords to carry out.

Leung says she’s reached out to her landlord on multiple occasions. “I honestly want my landlord to sit down with me and find a solution that’s good for us together, then I don’t need to leave,” Leung told CityNews. “I have written a letter, texted her, and emailed her, and also [reached out] verbally to ask her to have a conversation. Unfortunately, she ignores all my requests,” she told the VTU. CityNews was unable to receive a response from Leung’s landlord. 

Given her rent was originally raised illegally by 24%, Leung filed a dispute with the Residential Tenancy Branch (RTB) with the assistance of the VTU, claiming the eviction was in bad faith. The branch sided with the landlord. The VTU said Leung “plans to continue fighting” and pushed for the BC Supreme Court to conduct a Judicial Review to determine whether or not the RTB acted fairly. VTU organizer Alex Werier told The Peak a date for the Judicial Review has not been set. He also stated that on January 30, one day before Leung’s scheduled eviction, she attended court and “was granted a stay of her eviction until March 31.” Leung’s stay may “be extended if necessary until a date [for review] can be scheduled and attended.

“While we are very glad to have received a stay of the eviction, Abby’s housing is still uncertain, and that has been very hard for her, both because she is still facing the threat of being kicked out of her home, and because of the uncertainty of not knowing when her court date is,” stated Werier. “At the moment, the stay is not indefinite.

“This is a good reminder that there are likely thousands of people throughout the city going through similar hardships without this support. These systems can be quite opaque, and landlords will almost always have more resources at their disposal to navigate them,” Werier continued. “The VTU plans to remain in this fight until Abby is safe and secure in her home.”

SOCA kicks off Black History Month with ceremony

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This is a photo of five black panelists sitting on high chairs. Some of them are looking over at a screen, where another panelist has joined them virtually.
PHOTO: Lucaiah Smith-Miodownik / The Peak

By: Lucaiah Smith-Miodownik, News Writer

Editor’s Note: C Icart, humour editor at The Peak, was a panelist at this event. He was not involved in the production of this article.

On February 3, a snowy afternoon on Burnaby Mountain coated the campus in a blanket of reflection. Inside, SFU Students of Caribbean and African Ancestry (SOCA) held their Black History Month kickoff ceremony. Formed in 1994, SOCA “is an equity-seeking constituency group focusing on raising awareness on issues relevant to people of Black, African, and Caribbean descent on campus and globally.” They also provide community and a safe space for Black students on campus. The event, themed “From Past to Future: Black Canadian History and Leadership,” began with a slideshow on the history of Black Canadian influence, hardship, and success. It was followed by a musical performance from local artist TKID, a speech from SFU sociology professor Prof-Collins Ifeonu, and a panel of Black speakers working to make change. The panel was moderated by SFU Student Balqees Jama. The Peak attended the ceremony.

Professor Ifeonu’s speech recognized the complexities and importance of defining Blackness from a Canadian perspective. “Blackness in Canada, it struggles for visibility,” he said. “It’s always articulated as what I would call an ‘elsewhere identity.’ Something that exists outside of Canada.” Yet, this “couldn’t be further from the truth,” Ifeonu explained, acknowledging the kickoff’s theme of history and leadership. “Black history is Canadian history,” he said, quoting Jean Augustine, the first Black Canadian woman elected to Parliament who served multiple roles

The Peak also spoke with SOCA’s president, Adanna Nduagu. She discussed how the ceremony not only touched on the past but highlighted the history of tomorrow for Black Canadian leaders: “I’m seeing Black people aspire to leadership positions [ . . . ] irrespective of the systemic barriers they encounter in the way. So that was my goal — to inspire whoever attended.”

The panelists spoke to a variety of questions about their work and the impacts they’ve made. A common thread between them all was their commitment to building community. One of the panelists was recording artist, educator, and SFU alum Ndidi Cascade. Cascade has opened shows for stars like Wu-Tang Clan and also led “youth empowerment workshops and hip-hop education school programs.” Cascade spoke about her love for cyphers within the Canadian hip-hop scene as one example of building community. Cyphers are gatherings where performers “rap, break, [and] beatbox tightly together in a circle where each person just might get a moment in the spotlight.” Another panelist, Sosa Eweka-Valentine, a registered nurse and mental health advocate, founded Talks with Sosa, “a public speaking platform that seeks to bring experts to discuss issues from social justice to mental health.” She discussed how her platform works to end the negative stigma around mental illness.

“I’m seeing Black people aspire to leadership positions [ . . . ] irrespective of the systemic barriers they encounter in the way. So that was my goal — to inspire whoever attended.” — Adanna Nduagu, president, SOCA

Naa Sheka Riby-Williams spoke via Zoom. Riby-Williams is a clothing designer and founder of NaaSheka Fashion, a streetwear brand inspired by and produced in Ghana. She spoke about how her brand works to showcase authentic Ghanaian fashion and provide jobs and education to Ghanaians. For one, Riby-Williams helped build libraries for students in Ghana. She is also the creator of this year’s Canucks’ Black Excellence Night logo. Another panelist was Brian Seremba — co-founder of the BC Community Alliance (BCCA). The BCCA is a non-profit focused on “addressing the structural inequities created by racism” in educational settings. The organization “advocated, organized, and collected community data” for the Anti-Racism Act, which requires the Canadian government to develop an action plan to confront systemic racism. The BCCA also created the BC school racism tracker, allowing community members to report incidents of racism to address harm and provide healing support for those affected. C Icart, humour editor at The Peak, SFU teaching assistant, and communication PhD student studying “Black Twitter meme culture as a form of political engagement,” also spoke as a panelist. He discussed the importance of representation in developing a sense of community, discussing how many students may have never had a Black TA before. 

The panel also explored the ongoing Black Class Action discrimination case. Black Class Action Secretariat (BCAS) alleges that the Public Service of Canada “has failed to achieve equality in the workplace” for Black Canadians. Nicholas Marcus Thompson, a human rights advocate and the leader of the BCAS, told Amnesty International that the Canadian government “repeatedly acknowledged the existence of anti-Black racism in its institutions but has failed to take real action in response.” He stated that “Black public service workers deserve better and expect no less.” 

Icart expressed how first reading about the case felt like reading a lot of stuff that they already knew about, stating, “If you’re Black in this country, you’ve experienced it or you know someone who has. He also spoke to the dangers of the recent anti-diversity, equity, and inclusion push in the US and the abundance of misinformation about minority groups online that can convince people that “this is not happening.”

This employment-related discrimination case against the federal government is the “largest and most high-profile” of its kind in Canada. Currently, the class action is awaiting certification from the court. To be certified, the lawsuit must be found to have a “legally valid claim” and must apply to at least two individuals with common issues, known as a class.

After the event concluded, Nduagu shared she was “grateful that we had this amazing set of panelists who could come speak to us and share their journey, share knowledge, share why it’s important to always be rooted in community.”

For more Black History Month events from SOCA, see their calendar on their Instagram, @sfusoca.

It’s not me, it’s you: my experience as a queer sports fan

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Four women athletes and para athletes holding up a pride flag.
ILLUSTRATION: Kristin Lee / The Peak

By: Kaja Antic, Sports Writer

I’ve loved sports since I was young. From the moment Sidney Crosby scored the “Golden Goal” at the 2010 Winter Olympics, I was enthralled. As a kid, I regularly watched hockey, football, tennis — and even golf occasionally — when spending time with my grandparents. While my attention towards sports wavered through high school as I tried to fit a “moody performing arts kid” stereotype, it came back with a force once I graduated. I rediscovered my passion for sports, starting with my love for hockey that never really went away. I’ve grown to love soccer, baseball, motorsports, and professional wrestling, with the same awe that seven-year-old Kaja had watching Crosby score.

I’ve also known I was queer since I was young.

I didn’t have the words to express myself at first, pushing myself in elementary school to “like” boys like how all the girls did on TV. I tried to find a mix between what was considered “girly,” like loving the colour pink, or something that was reserved for boys, like loving hockey or Star Wars. I knew I was different, putting on some sort of act I now recognize as compulsory heterosexuality — trying to emulate the “normal” things girls were supposed to do. 

I first learned about the 2SLGBTQIA+ community when I started high school, but that was mainly due to my activity in the Once Upon A Time Instagram fandom. At first, I just thought I was a really good ally. It wasn’t until I was nearly 14 that I came out to my friends. I waited over three more years to come out to my family.

Over the past few years, I’ve spent more of my time involved in sports in some capacity. I spend most of my evenings at ice rinks, and know the layout of BC Place better than the layout of the campus I’ve attended for three years. My social media algorithms are full of everything from F1 highlights to funny WWE moments to animals interrupting MLB games

Still, I feel like I’m constantly hiding a part of myself in some sense of preservation. 

I don’t hide the fact I am queer. I don’t hide the fact that I use she/they pronouns. I’m not intentionally placing myself back in the closet, though sometimes in these sports circles I feel it would be better off if I did.

“I know I should expect it, especially in the hyper masculine sphere of men’s sports, but it still hurts to know that those surrounding me in the arenas might hate me if they knew more. That even though we were the same jersey, they hate me for something I cannot control.”

I’ve told myself time and time again to not check the comments or replies anytime a post mentions any 2SLGBTQIA+ identities in the slightest. Sometimes, though, it feels like I can’t look away. 

Whether it’s a post about a team pride night, pride merchandise, acknowledgement of a local 2SLGBTQIA+ organization, or even a video of an athlete doing a simple dance with their family, there’s always something in the comments spewing hatred. I know I should expect it, especially in the hyper masculine sphere of men’s sports, but it still hurts to know that those surrounding me in the arenas might hate me if they knew more. That even though we were the same jersey, they hate me for something I cannot control.

I know it’s not healthy for me to try and change their minds, I’m just so sick of the sports I love not loving me back. I’ve spent countless hours watching NHL hockey, and while it didn’t surprise me to see the commissioner call pride jerseys a “distraction,” it really hurt. Not just me as a queer adult, but also me as a little kid, just trying to fit in in a community that tries to push her out. 

I also recognize the inherent privilege I have. I’m white. I have a decently accepting family. I don’t remember a time where marriage equality was an issue in Canada. I don’t constantly have to fight for my right to exist. 

As international politics now veer to the right, the silently tolerant have now grown to the loudly hateful. Sports used to be my break from reality, but the broader communities have turned it into the reinforcement of what I sought to escape. 

Still, nothing changes if I leave. Existing in a space that was not made to include me is my form of resistance. I love sports, and I love being queer. Nothing about myself has to change, and to those that want me to do so — I’ll still be here, whether you like it or not.

The rumours are true, I have flirted with a man before

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Couple standing in a kitchen eating strawberries. They are surrounded by different breakfast foods and are looking at each other lovingly.
PHOTO: Jack Sparrow / Pexels

By: C Icart, Humour Editor

I’m 25, and honestly, it’s great. Love being 25. Like yesterday, I wanted a chocolate bar, so I just bought myself a chocolate bar. Didn’t have to ask my mom, didn’t have to pass GO, didn’t have to collect $200 . . . It was salted caramel flavoured (stop drooling). Another great thing about being 25 is that I’ve seemingly aged out of the age range where men think I’m attractive (and vulnerable). It has literally been years since I’ve been catcalled or followed (I think, I’m not as diligent with looking behind me these days). 

But like, I wasn’t always 25 (yeah, that’s right, I’m hitting you with the plot twist). My age has also been a bunch of numbers that were not 25. I’m not going to list them; I’ll let you use your imagination. And as a result of living in a society sometimes at those ages where I wasn’t 25, I interacted with men. Yeah, there was a time (a dark, dark time) when I swiped on men on Tinder. I was young, had low self-esteem, and had deluded myself into believing I was attracted to my natural predators. And honestly, it was a learning experience! I learned that men are super open about being red-pilled. I also learned that they interpret being a gender studies student as an invitation to debate you about feminism and women’s rights.

Which made me feel like they were deeply misunderstanding the point of Tinder. Bro, are you even trying to get laid? Is pissing me off your version of foreplay? I actually think men turn their brains off before opening dating apps. There’s no other explanation for the blurry pics, the nonsensical and/or condescending bios, and the most bizarre attempts at conversation. 

Like, you can’t see me right now because you’re reading and I’m probably not in the same room as you (you should still be diligent and look behind you), but I’m Black. But I’m not above being a race traitor so I swipe on non-Black people all the time (yeah, even when I wasn’t 25). Tell me why this white man matched with me and his first message to me was “I love Black women. Are you attracted to white men?” It made me want to ask him the same question I want to ask the Instacart shopper man  who contacted me to tell me the grocery store didn’t have pasta: “Did you think at all before texting me?” The only reason we matched was because you saw a picture of me and were instantly entranced and I saw a picture of you and thought it was good enough. So why are you coming out to me as white in the chat? 

But it’s OK! It was a learning experience! I learned that dating apps are exactly like real life. In both cases, men get really aggressive when you don’t respond to them. I also learned that while men might disappoint you, vegan salted caramel chocolate with little salty crunchy bits inside never will. It actually tastes sweet and will leave you satisfied.