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Lack of details in pedestrian deaths sparks conversation on police transparency

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A Surrey Police car pulls up beside a white car. The front view of both cars is shown, with the police car’s lights flashing brightly.
PHOTO: Courtesy of @surreypoliceservice / Instagram

By: Lucaiah Smith-Miodownik, News Writer

In December 2025, Surrey police in officer vehicles fatally struck two pedestrians within two weeks of each other. The crashes raised concerns among community members regarding officer readiness and training, but they also rekindled larger questions around police transparency. The Peak corresponded with the Independent Investigations Office of BC (IIO), the Surrey Police Service, and former Delta officer and retired SFU criminology professor Dr. Rick Parent for more information.

The IIO is a “civilian-led police oversight” office, one of roughly 10 similar agencies in Canada. Designed to improve “public confidence in police oversight, accountability, and transparency in policing in British Columbia,” the office is tasked with investigating when police officers have potentially inflicted death or serious harm on others, or failed to act in a situation that has resulted in the same outcome. In instances where officers are found culpable, the IIO may recommend charges to the Crown counsel. When officers are not found responsible, no further steps are taken. “This occurs in approximately 75–85% of investigations,” the IIO told The Peak. 

In addition to the IIO, the Office of the Police Complaint Commissioner reviews disciplinary incidents involving municipal police in BC, while the Civilian Review and Complaints Commission for the RCMP looks into disciplinary incidents involving the RCMP in BC. 

When investigations are discontinued due to lack of evidence or failure to meet the threshold for serious harm, the IIO will typically mark the case as closed without public report. More details are not released because “the privacy interests of the affected person or their family are generally found to outweigh the public interest in releasing more information, or there is otherwise insufficient rationale to publish a release,” the IIO said.

Outcomes like discontinued investigations are common, as “recommending charges against the police is also rare for the IIO,” Alberta criminology professor Temitope Oriola told Vancouver Sun. Information that is released “can take years,” Dr. Parent also told the publication.

When asked if there is precedent for instances where information is released to the public, Surrey Police referred The Peak to the Memorandum of Understanding Respecting Investigations, which details “clear guidelines on what police may release publicly.” The memorandum states that “a police agency may advise the media: that an incident has occurred; the general nature and context of that call; that the IIO has been notified of the incident and the reason for the IIO referral; [and] with respect to the welfare of involved officers.” Further, “the IIO will be responsible for issuing media statements regarding the IIO investigation.”

Ultimately, the IIO’s Chief Civilian Director Jessica Berglund “determines if and when the IIO will provide information to the public,” as explained in the office’s external communications policy. This document outlines other considerations that play into what details are reported, the summation of which boils down to whether information is “in the public interest.” Surrey Police added they “will await the conclusion of the IIO’s investigation and may, if appropriate, be in a position to comment following the IIO’s investigation and any issuance of reports from their office.”

Still, when it comes to cases like the pedestrian fatalities, keeping tight lips does “more harm than good,” Dr. Parent told The Peak. “There’s a desperate need to review and to change the mandate of the IIO so that it benefits the public,” he added.

“We need somebody from either the federal government or the 10 oversight agencies to get together and say, ‘how can we talk the same, how can we report information to the public’ so that researchers can also be involved in this process,” he said.

“We need to be critical of the police so they do a good job, and we can’t do that right now because of the ‘dysfunctionalism’ of oversight agencies across Canada.”

— Dr. Rick Parent, former Delta officer and retired SFU criminology professor

“They have all this information and they are independent of the police,” Dr. Parent said. “The IIO could really play an important role in making BC’s society safer, and they’re not doing that,” he added. “They have the budget, they have great investigators, they’ve got all these good people involved, but because they’ve got this very, very narrow mandate, they’re doing their job, but their job should be so much wider than what it is.”

The US’ attack on Venezuela violates international law

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A thick, authoritative-looking book titled The Charter of the United Nations, with the official UN emblem on the cover. There is a person’s hand (the person is wearing a suit,) that has written "Except for us” on the book’s cover with blood. The cuff link on the suit’s sleeve displays the American flag.
ILLUSTRATION: Jiamin Bai / The Peak

By: Zainab Salam, Opinions Editor

On January 3, I sat glued to my phone watching the videos of the US’ attack on Venezuela’s capital Caracas. That same day, Nicolás Maduro was captured by US forces. While Maduro is a dictator with a long-list of heinous acts (as documented by Amnesty International and Human Rights Watch), the nature of his leadership does not legitimize the violation of international law.  

The situation in Venezuela kick-started a film in my head that replayed the horrors that the US-led coalition had unleashed on my people. The images very closely resembled those shared upon the Battle of Baghdad, in 2003. In true colonizing fashion, the footage highlighted the bleak nature of militaristic attacks in the 21st century. The clips of Baghdad reflected a city that is being bombed beyond recognition. This made me think of all the suffering that is going to ensue against Venezuelan civilians — and the suffering that has already been inflicted by the “large-scale military strikes.” A people who have already experienced sociopolitical instability for such a long time will be subjected to further political turmoil. 

To be clear, this military operation is an illegal act that transgresses over Venezuela’s sovereignty and undermines the international legal order. This legal order provides specific contexts that permit intervening in a sovereign state. Nevertheless, the violence carried out by the US government compels global citizens to revisit the commitments made at the end of the Second World War (WWII). Commitments that were codified to prevent this kind of aggression from happening again. 

Rising from the ashes of WWII, states recognized the desperate need for a legal framework that would establish equality and sovereignty among nation-states. In 1945, representatives from 50 countries convened in San Francisco with the task of designing what would later be known as the United Nations Charter. This effort followed the failure of the League of Nations, whose limited authority proved incapable of preventing international aggression. The hope was that the newly formed United Nations (UN) would impose meaningful restraints on the use of force. 

Article 2 of the Charter reflects that ambition. It establishes the foundational principles governing state behaviour. Including sovereign equality (Article 2 (1)), and the prohibition of “force against the territorial integrity or political independence of any state” (Article 2 (4)). 

The US serves an important role within the UN system: it’s a Charter signatory (another way of saying that it’s a founding member), a permanent member of the Security Council (with an incredibly powerful power of veto to protect its interests), and a party to numerous UN treaties (which means it has the legal obligation to uphold the terms of those treaties). Yet, what remains starkly absent from those treaties is the lack of ratifications on major human rights treaties (those that aim to protect children, women, and disabled individuals, among other marginalized groups). And what is perhaps most notable in this context: the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court. Where this Statute helps prosecute serious international crimes (such as genocide and the crime of aggression, among others) — think of how Vladimir Putin, President of the Russian Federation, is currently at large for his war crimes, and will be arrested upon entering any of the states that has signed the Statute. US had initially signed the treaty in 2000, but withdrew its signature just two years later. An act that insulates their state from accountability on an international stage. 

It is difficult to ignore the approximate timing of the US’ withdrawal from the Rome Statute — just one year before the invasion of Iraq. This event goes on to become a highly advantageous one, as it effectively protected US leaders from being held accountable for their crimes against humanity in Iraq. The continued unfortunate reality of the ramifications of this lack of international accountability is also at play for the crimes they have and will commit in Venezuela. 

For this reason, Article 2 of the UN Charter remains relevant precisely because it articulates the standard the international community continues to violate. In continued militaristic operations that undermine sovereignty, the international community must be reminded that the standard that they are supposed to uphold is a legal obligation. One that they seem to only exercise with weaker states. An unfortunate reality emerges from the power dynamic embedded in UN affairs: some states are able to transgress sovereignty simply because they possess sufficient power to do so. 

The case of Iraq offers an example of this transgression. Just two years after the 2003 invasion, Iraq was estimated as holding 10% of the world’s oil reserve. This is when it became clear that the motivation for the US-led coalition had other, materialistic, motivations. Where, publicly, US had declared a necessity of invading Iraq to destroy its reserve of weapons of mass destruction — which was, quickly, figured out to be untrue

These questions resurface in Venezuela today. In an interview with Jon Stewart last year, Prime Minister Mark Carney pointed out the relevance of Venezuela when it pertains to US’ oil rush. Particularly amid discussions of US energy dominance. Venezuela holds the world’s largest oil reserve, with 17.17% of the world’s reserve as estimated in 2025. Interestingly, Trump left no room for speculation regarding his motivation for this illegal transgression over sovereignty. Trump’s declaration that the US is “going to have our very large United States oil companies — the biggest anywhere in the world,” highlights the premise of US’ involvement in Venezuela. This militaristic act is to extract resources for profit. 

US has had a past of intervening in Venezuelan affairs that often undermined the country’s sovereignty and stability. Meaning that much of its political insecurity has stemmed from US meddling in national affairs. Unfortunately, this attack is a more direct militancy that sets a “dangerous precedent” with ramifications that extend into Venezuelan and international levels!

The most direct cost of this pursuit will be, primarily, endured by civilians. While the official death toll remains unclear, Reuters shared Venezuela’s estimate, as posited by their interior minister, of the death toll of 100 people. This estimate doesn’t specify whether the casualties were civilian or politically involved individuals.  

Importantly, we must acknowledge the most immediate consequence of this military strike as a deepening humanitarian crisis. The strikes on Caracas have damaged infrastructure, disrupted access to electricity, and will cause (and really, have caused) an environmental calamity. Several humanitarian organizations have flagged their worry over this militaristic aggression. 

As the world, and myself, continue to watch, Venezuela stands as a chilling reminder that sovereignty is violated and humans and the environment suffer irreversible damages.

The images that a younger me had witnessed, will now be experienced by little kids that don’t understand why other kids get a safe home and they don’t.

Temporal, spatial, and interrelational passages from The Lyre 16’s team

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PHOTO: Juliana Manalo / The Peak

By: Clara Xu, SFU Student

The Lyre Mag, one of SFU’s longest current running undergraduate journals, published their 16th edition in October 2025. Operating out of the department of world languages and literatures (WLL), the “student-led literary journal” publishes annually, featuring undergraduate student work spanning “poetry, prose, translations, and visual art.” The Peak sat down with The Lyre 16’s editors-in-chief Isobel Sinclair and Callie, and editorial designer Yoona Charland, to discuss their experiences during the editing process.

The following interview has been edited for concision and clarity.

What type of work did you do for The Lyre

Isobel: Callie and I, as EICs, had meetings every week, planned what should be discussed in the meetings with the associate editors, and we made sure we were in line with the timeline we created at the beginning of the year.

Callie: I started out as an associate editor, which is like our reviewers, for all of our submissions. It was a nice intro into working with The Lyre. Basically, you go in there, they assign a piece, you review and give feedback for the piece, but it’s very community oriented, which I liked. When you actually go in with working with The Lyre, you work with a faculty liaison. We have Dr. María Barraza; she’s wonderful.

Yoona: As editorial designer, in the summer, I put the magazine together front-to-back and sourced images, and put in some of my own artwork if needed. And then Isobel and Callie gave their input. I think we went through four rounds of edits. We really wanted to execute our vision.

What was the inspiration for your theme, “Passage?”

I: For a while, we were trying to make the theme “bridging” work. We settled on “passage” after distilling it more.

C: We were looking back at old issues and the first five were completely different. It had a different logo that we noticed. Some of us weren’t sure what it was.

I: We looked at it and were like, “Is that a chicken?” It’s a lyre bird, which is a bird whose tail looks like a lyre instrument.

C: In the first edition, there was an explanation of, “What is a lyre?” — it can be a bird, it can be an instrument, but they wanted it to be up to your interpretation. I thought that was a nice core message that The Lyre is student-shaped, and it can be whatever you want it to be. 

I: And that we could remould it.

C: It was something we wanted to return to, as we were talking about our new logo design. As we were doing all that, we were really thinking of this experience with the passage of time and looking at how things have changed throughout the years.

Y: Since we’re in the world literature program, we were also thinking about how passage can have a lot to do with time, with physical passage like migration.

What was it like to work with multiple languages?

I: We’ve got a great team coming from the WLL department, and from hiring associate editors that know an additional language. 

C: This year was a really strong year for translations, since WLL brought back a translation theory course that hadn’t been taught in forever. We went into that class and were like, “Everyone here will have to submit a translation to The Lyre!” Translation is such a creative process because of how you choose the translated words. How close do you want to be to the source language? What are the creative decisions someone made to get to this translation?

Y: Speaking on the design side of it, it was just finding all of the fonts. I remember the first copy: the Cantonese font I used didn’t have all of the correct characters.

I: It’s not just making sure you have the correct translation; it’s also making sure that, when we have it in print, that it’s doing justice to the text and to the translation. That’s for all pieces that we have submitted, part of the design process isn’t just laying it out nicely, it’s also making sure that you are keeping all of the line breaks, and the layouts of everything that has been submitted, so that they retain the same intent.

What editing process do your submissions go through?

C: Everyone gets feedback, they’re heard even if they don’t get published. It’s like they have a sculpture, and the editors are collaborating to help chisel it into the same vision the writers have.

I: Once the associate editors have gone through a couple stages, then we compile everything into one big spreadsheet. We read them all out together, and discuss whether we feel they fit with the theme, if we enjoy them on a thematic or visual level. Then we whittle down our shortlist until it becomes the final list.

What impact do you wish for The Lyre to have on SFU undergraduate students, and on the SFU community?

C: We did an interview with the founders of The Lyre, Daniel Poirier. It’s cool to see how he went from EIC to being a creative writing instructor at Langara. 

I: It’s a sense of communication — connecting yourself with others, and connecting yourself with your own sense of self. 

What do you hope to see, or work towards, in The Lyre’s future?

Y: I’m continuing next year as EIC with Callie since Isobel’s graduated. Callie and I were talking about having copies of The Lyre in local libraries for free. 

C: I want to keep up the direction we had this year, since we made a lot of changes last year with the logo and cover.

I: More short fiction! Even if it’s just a little excerpt. Even if you’re working on something and just want to submit a couple pages of it.

If you had one piece of advice for the writers and artists of SFU, what would you tell them?

I: Submit! When we go through the submissions, even if it doesn’t get accepted, there was someone in that room that liked it. Keep trying if you don’t get in — you might get in next year.

Read The Lyre, including all previous issues, digitally at journals.lib.sfu.ca/index.php/lyre. You can also pick up a physical copy on the “fifth floor of the AQ in the corner closest to the Trottier Observatory. Prints are stored in the display case outside of AQ 5121.” For more information, please email [email protected] or visit their Instagram, @thelyremag.

Sam Wiebe says a career in the arts is possible

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PHOTO: Jamal Allad / The Peak

By: Maya Barillas Mohan, Staff Writer

Looking beyond the fog of midterms and assignments, a career in the arts is actually quite possible in misty Vancouver. A case in point is the SFU English department’s Writer-in-Residence (WiR) program, which bridges aspiring writers to published ones to provide a valuable source of insight and mentorship. The Peak reached out to distinguished author and 2023 WiR consultant Sam Wiebe to gain some wisdom on what it means to be an artist living in Vancouver. Having published over 10 novels, Wiebe tells us that the daunting concept of “career artist” dissolves into something tangible through effort.

When asked to define what a “career artist” is, Wiebe is not exclusive with who he considers an artist. He stresses that one can consider themselves an artist, as long as you continue to do it. Wiebe furthers that being an artist can mean getting paid for what you make, or just simply supporting it with a job outside of the arts. Acknowledging the accelerating social problems Vancouver conceals under its beautiful glassy exterior, Wiebe reminds me that Vancouver is “incredibly expensive.” He adds, “I don’t blame anyone who cannot survive on what an artist makes.” He incorporates issues like gentrification and income disparity into his work and composes books that he believes are “richer” for their reflection of these issues. 

Wiebe candidly shares that he has had “full-blown side gigs,” but is now primarily an artist, living off books and articles. He tells me that, with his first novel, he didn’t have an agent and was way out of his depth. When crediting his success as an artist at this current point in his career, Wiebe tells me that it begins with reading everything and putting in the effort.

“Most people don’t finish what they start, and that is the key thing.”

— Sam Wiebe

“Like, not only working to the end of the story, but having the courage to send it out. Saying OK, people might hate this, they might not like it, but it’s no longer mine.” In addition to having an agent, part of his commercial success is treating his work like a professional at a day job. Wiebe demystifies the “fabled artist” (someone who only works when inspiration strikes) by explaining his ethos like that of a “lunchpail worker”: he shows up in the morning, puts in the grunt work of writing and researching, and sustains his career.

Championing the use of resources like the library and archives, Wiebe urges students to attend conferences and appreciate what they have access to at SFU. He refers to resources, including things “out of your wheelhouse (or comfort zone),” as crucial to making art. Even well after starting out, Wiebe tells me he engages with media out of his comfort zone for his current project. The only way to get through something is to do it, and it doesn’t require fancy equipment, besides a computer and selfmotivation. Wiebe refutes the assumptions made about students today, saying that it’s just as true that “people still love literature and the written word and are willing to put in the time.”

COMIC: It’s a plastic invasion!

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By: Maya Barillas Mohan

 

Celebrating Tamil Heritage Month in Canada

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By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Content warning: mention of genocide.

January 2026 marks the 10th anniversary of Tamil Heritage Month in Canada. A decade ago, its designation was passed unanimously in the House of Commons to “recognize the contributions that Tamil Canadians have made to Canadian society, the richness of the Tamil language and culture, and the importance of educating and reflecting upon Tamil heritage for future generations.” The period from mid-January to mid-February (or “Thai”as known in the Tamil calendar), in particular, was chosen due to its significance to the Tamil community, coinciding with Thai Pongal — a four-day harvest festival celebrating the Sun God, and farmers, along with ancient rituals, feasts, and the enjoyment of a boiled sweet rice known as pongal.

Tamil is a South Asian language spoken across southern India, Singapore, and Sri Lanka. It is one of the oldest surviving languages in the world, with an extensive archaeological and literary past stretching back over 2,000 years, and is currently spoken by over 70 million people. Since the 1940s, Canada has slowly become home to one of the largest Tamil diasporas in the world. In 1983, Tamil migrants to Canada increased substantially in the wake of ethnic persecution and genocide in Sri Lanka — still ongoing today — which then led to a civil war lasting just under three decades. 

This year’s theme is “Our land, our roots: Celebrating Tamil ancestral spaces and time.” To meaningfully connect with the diversity of ancient Tamil homelands, the regions of Tamil Eelam and Tamil Nadu were chosen as the focal point of this year’s celebration. While these areas aren’t representative of all origins and backgrounds,

the Tamil Heritage Month Council is calling on Tamil Canadians to reflect on the “deep connection between Tamil history, identity, and place — honouring where we come from and the lands we continue to build community on today.

Over on the east coast in Toronto, the month is marked by an opening ceremony, followed by an evening of cultural entertainment, a fashion week to showcase Tamil heritage styles, along with city hall reception to acknowledge Tamil youth community leaders. Pongal festivals are also held in Quebec, organized by regional Tamil Canadian grassroot organizations. Here in BC, the Vancouver Tamilians Society will be hosting a Pongal celebration on January 18, from 5:00 p.m.–11:00 p.m., at the Fraserview Banquet Hall at 8240 Fraser St. in Vancouver. For an entrance fee of $25, attendees can expect to be treated to cultural performances, traditional and contemporary Tamil dance, and live DJ music, as well as a special 18-course traditional Pongal feast. This is a great opportunity to learn more about Tamil culture, so don’t forget to check it out!

 

Opinions in Dialogue: Christmas markets

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An illustration of the Christmas market in downtown Vancouver. The illustration showcases a festive scene, with blurry subjects. The scene is set at night-time.
ILLUSTRATION: Sonya Janeshewski / The Peak

By: Clara Xu, SFU Student, and Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Christmas markets are a hallmark of the festive season. A staple in countries like Germany and Austria, these open-air holiday markets are, unfortunately, few and far between in Western Canada. While much smaller and not as extravagant as its European counterparts,

Vancouver’s festive market tradition has been met with growing enthusiasm since the downtown debut at Jack Poole Plaza in 2010, leading to the opening of North Vancouver’s very own Shipyards Christmas Market at Lonsdale Quay

in hopes of hosting a market that is more accessible to single parents and low-income families. Two writers discuss their perspectives.

Clara: Where the Shipyards market really shines is dessert and drinks: they range from poffertjes, chimney cakes, brownies, giant cookies, maple taffy, and more. Their hot drink selection offered Christmas traditions like hot chocolate, apple cider, and mulled wine, in addition to chai and festive cocktails. They have a limited but classic Christmas repertoire of hot food, including pork hock, raclette, and schnitzel. Their shopping stands were fairly generic, selling locally made jewelry, crafts, and apparel. However, they have a fun variety of liquors and wines — my highlights include the iced apple cider and honey wine!

Heidi: The downtown Vancouver market offers a similar food scene, but with shorter queues and quicker service overall. For instance, buying a cup of glühwein took less than a minute downtown on a Friday evening compared to the endless lineups at the Shipyards market. There was also more variety in vendors, including European-style stalls selling everything from traditional handcrafted German Moravian stars to Eastern-European Matryoshka dolls, whereas the Shipyards hosted more locally made crafts sold by small businesses. 

Clara: The Shipyards market becomes very lively when it gets dark and the Christmas lights are more visible. But, if I have to point out its weaknesses, the market’s set-up creates thin corridors connecting various plaza areas that make it difficult to walk around — big crowds in these corridors can make it difficult for mobility aid users, or people with strollers, to traverse through.

Heidi: Despite going on a Friday evening, the downtown market, while bustling, did not feel too crowded. Compared to the Shipyards, stalls created a continuous “street wall,” giving visitors the impression of being immersed in a real Christmas village. The German-styled Erzgebirge Christmas Pyramid centrepiece, combined with the beautiful light displays, also provided more photo opportunities while making the downtown market feel like a scene from out of a storybook.

Clara: Entry is free to the Shipyards market! This makes this market perfect for a spur-of-the-moment trip or big groups to attend without breaking the wallet. The market is a couple minutes walk away from the SeaBus — perfect for students with a U-Pass. There are also various paid and free parking lots nearby.

Heidi: OK, I know the cost of admission is the main complaint literally everyone has about the downtown market, but hear me out: GET THE SEASON PASS! The early November 13 to 30 pass costs $15.99 and the full season pass costs $32.99. It beats having to buy a full price general admissions ticket at $21.99 before tax. 

Clara: To avoid long lineups at the Shipyards market, attend earlier in December, during the weekdays, or earlier in the day, as the market opens before noon. Make sure to try some hot cocoa or a snack when you visit the market stalls, the nearby Lonsdale Quay market, the Polygon Gallery, or the outdoor skate plaza

Heidi: The downtown market is definitely not a last-minute activity to kill time during the holidays, but it is nonetheless enjoyable if you plan ahead for cheaper admission to get the most out of your experience!

Ultimately, if you’re willing to shell out a few extra bucks for a more authentic, fairy tale-like festive atmosphere, with more manageable crowds (because trust me, lining up for 30 minutes in the freezing rain and cold is not fun), then the downmarket is for you. However, if you don’t mind waiting in longer lines in lieu of a steep admission fee, then the Shipyards market is worth it.

Fast fashion exploits the consumer

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clothes hanging side by side.
PHOTO: Pascal Stöckmann / Unsplash

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

There is a growing awareness among consumers that the fast fashion industry is exploitative to its workers and the environment. Of the 60 million garment workers employed in factories in countries like Bangladesh, less than 2% of workers earn a living wage. Beyond this blatant inequity, many of these workers are exposed to unsafe work conditions, excessively long work days, and gender-based harassment. The environmental impacts of fast fashion are no small sting, either. Annually, the industry produces 92 million tonnes of textile waste. If such wasteful trends prevail, there is a projected rise to 134 million tonnes of textile waste, and the industry’s global waste production will rise by 50%. These are the brutal realities of a worldwide industry that is deeply ingrained into our consumerist society.

Despite these concerning unethical facts that drive these companies, it may be difficult to break your personal shopping habits. It is impossible to deny the benefits of purchasing a clothing item that looks great and doesn’t break the bank. Convenience also goes a long way, with items delivered to your door in as little as a day. Have you considered, however, that this business model that exploits its workers is also exploiting you, the consumer?

When you shop, your brain releases dopamine, the reward chemical. This neurotransmitter results in that warm feeling of joy that makes you feel good, and incentivizes behaviours that stimulate its release. Sales boasting things like “50% OFF” or “CLEARANCE SALE” are particularly good at activating this chemical. Websites like Temu and Shein are notorious for using these tricks to keep your attention — and your money. 

Online shopping might make your crappy day better when it’s 9:00 p.m. and you find some gorgeous knits on Zara for only $12 (down from $38!). Zara, however, is an ethical triple whammy: not only does it exploit people and the environment, it is also on the Boycott, Divest, Sanction list due to its complicity in Israel’s genocide of the Palestinian people. 

Either way, the satisfaction derived from shopping seems to be short-lived. In the last 25 years, garments have increasingly been thrown away after fewer and fewer wears, and approximately 85% of all textile material made ends up in the landfill, just in the US, on an annual basis. These items do not satiate your appetite — they simply curb your hunger until your next hunt. Keep in mind fast fashion companies widely use synthetic materials, poor stitching, and manufacturing practices that focus on quantity. They do not care about the quality of the resulting product — only that you buy it.

At the end of the day, no matter the sale, you are not saving $7 — you are spending $43. When you buy from fast fashion companies, you trade your money for short-term dopamine and a plastic-lined hoodie that falls apart after three washes.

All the while, you’re lining the pockets of companies who treat their workers and the environment like crap. Nothing good comes out of these good-looking deals. 

Instead, it is important to partake in mindful shopping behaviour that suits your needs. In general, it would be nice to buy less, but in cases when you do need specific wardrobe garments, buy clothing made by sustainable brands. This is where learning about the brands that you buy from comes in real handy. Maybe do a clothing swap with your friends, or buy second-hand. And my all-time favourite: pick-up sewing as a hobby — it’s so helpful to mend clothing!

Analyzing portrayals of adolescence in At Least I’m Trying

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IMAGE: Courtesy of Tara Hodgson

By: Ashima Shukla, Staff Writer

Content warning: Brief mention of sex-trafficking

Tara Hodgson’s At Least I’m Trying follows Reese, a high-achieving student-athlete whose identity is built on being exceptional. Academically, athletically, socially — her parents demand perfection, and Reese does her best to deliver. Until she doesn’t. Set between a small town and the promise of freedom in Vancouver, the novel follows Reese’s unravelling, and how a predator grooms her into becoming a victim of a sex-trafficking ring. 

Hodgson’s prose is intense, confessional, and emotionally saturated, like Wattpad stories and Tumblr prose. And while some may find it superfluous, it does mirror the mode of expression many teens recognize. She uses it with urgency and conviction, accurately identifying something universal about teenagehood: the quiet panic of inadequacy, the impulse towards self-destruction, the longing to be seen and chosen. And yet, I found the novel didn’t do justice to the teenage experience, determined instead to discipline it. 

Like a slippery slope argument, it starts with very real emotions: Reese’s dissatisfaction with herself and her exhaustion in trying to fulfill her parents’ expectations. But with no clear inciting incident, she finds herself fighting off her “gut feelings” and seeking freedom in rebellion. Soon, every character, setting, and event pushes Reese towards a predetermined outcome. Drugs, alcohol, sexuality, and social media are framed through judgment-laden stereotypes: students using drugs become symbolic academic failures, the singular “party girl” becomes a moral warning, tattoos and kissing in public become shorthand for vileness. The hippie family brews homemade kombucha, and the English teacher can’t help but care too much.

Coming from an indie author and teacher from Alberta, who has worked with teenagers for over 15 years, this fear-driven storytelling relies on moral tropes that flatten complexity, and I am left wondering how many YA readers would resonate with them. Snapchat maps, anonymous Instagram gossip accounts, and provocative dancing on TikTok appear only as mechanisms of danger, stripped of the everyday boredom, and longing that actually define teen life online. 

Hodgson’s novel fails to capture the complex ways in which social media has become a constitutive environment for adolescence. Snapchat and TikTok are apps where identity, intimacy, and sociality are experienced and formed. Sure, they are spaces of visibility and surveillance but also of learning and creativity. And while Hodgson’s concerns are very real, what remains unexplored in this novel is the quieter and more persistent dangers of digital culture: how comparison shapes self-worth, how shame and FOMO have become drivers of conformity, how algorithms reward caricature-like performances that distort reality for those of us with still-developing prefrontal cortices, and with it, the ability to make well-thought out decisions. 

Reese’s interactions with social media are seen as reckless choices. In reality, she is just one of us, participating in the social media spheres where we are all surveilled, where the lines between fun and risk are blurred. Our reality is constantly mediated, and checking Snapchat maps, talking to strangers, or even online stalking is increasingly normalized. As Hodgson implies, digital literacy becomes essential. But when responsibility is individualized, the structural pressures that guide major plot points from the generational trauma behind parenting decisions to the intentional design of social media to the sociopolitical factors behind crime remain invisible. 

In contrast, the YA novels that still shape my imagination trust readers with ambiguity. They create narrative tension not via moral panic but through distance, in unreliable narration, speculative settings, or ethical complexity. Instead, At Least I’m Trying insists on its warning with such intensity that the space for interpretation where reflection and critical thinking may develop is closed off. For me, what it ultimately gestures towards, is the need for YA narratives that understand the nuances of social media as the terrain on and through which adolescence unfolds today, both its positives and negatives.

Pick a Colour by Souvankham Thammavongsa

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IMAGE: Courtesy of Knopf Canada

By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Pick a Colour is a fictionalized account of the Southeast Asian immigrant experience, written by Souvankham Thammavongsa, a Laotian Canadian author and poet who was born in a refugee camp in Thailand and raised in Toronto. The novel explores themes of power, class, and the invisibilization of migrant labour performed by gendered and racialized diasporas. Taking place over a single summer day, Thammavongsa introduces the reader to “Susan’s,” an unassuming nail salon toiled by workers, all of whom sport the same shoulder-length black hair, black clothing, and name tags embellished with the name “Susan.” Customers who visit Susan’s are told to “pick a colour,” and can expect to be in and out in under twenty minutes. Fussy walk-ins are placated with a two-for-one special — a manicure and pedicure — all for the price of just $10!

Despite kneeling from below to clean, shape, and polish, Thammavongsa expresses that real power lies not with the customer but with the worker

The one who wields the sharp instruments and keeps the secrets that will inevitably slip out of the client’s lips under the intimate setting. The author therefore subverts underlying assumptions about nail salon workers (or those employed in the service industry) as people to be pitied or underestimated. 

Told from a first-person perspective, we are quickly submerged in the lonely but content world of our protagonist, a former boxer who reluctantly trades her corner of the ring for a nail salon. Her name is Ning (but customers know her as Susan because according to her, it’s easier to pronounce). Ning is a closed-off, emotionally-guarded, and no-nonsense girlboss. Blunt and direct, she reads her clients with the same ease and intensity as she did with her boxing opponents, anticipating their every punch and swing. She deduces a person’s entire life story from the instant they inhabit her chair. Subtle shifts in weight or movement during a match; lines in the face, every crease, and wrinkle that needs the attention of a facial give away a person more than words can ever reveal. Yet, beneath Ning’s fortified exterior lies a compassionate soul and (cynical but nonetheless) a witty sense of humour. 

We witness a very human portrayal of how the protagonist grapples with the trauma and unrealistic expectations exacted by shaky relationships with her former partner, employer, boxing coach, coworkers, customers, and mother. While mostly character-driven, this book culminates in a story that is underpinned by a heart-arching exploration of the impacts of loneliness, absence, racism, and gender-based social norms on women. With this work, Thammavongsa further commentates on the perception of language capability as an indicator of class, belonging, and worth. Ning and her coworkers are frequently told by customers that their “English is so good.” This is a backhanded compliment that immigrants are all too familiar with. It suggests that people of colour aren’t capable of speaking the language fluently based solely on their skin colour, when in truth, the “Susans” have spoken English for years but choose to converse amongst themselves in their own language as a way of reasserting their own autonomy. As these Susans exchanged quick-fired gossip under the guise of workplace pleasantries in their mother tongues, the readers are left to re-evaluate run-of-the-mill nail salons as anything but unremarkable service providers, and see them as places of migrant autonomy and collectivism.