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“The Care We Dream Of” leaves no one behind in their queer reimagining of healthcare

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Book cover with a fading sunset background. Plants and fruit run along the border. A large pearly moon with "The Care We Dream Of" in the middle takes up most of the page
Sharman’s compilation book strives to actualize LGBTQIA2S+ dreams of community-based care. Image courtesy of Arsenal Pulp Press

By: Yelin Gemma Lee, News Writer

In The Care We Dream Of, I found myself and the people I love represented through our distinct and specific ways of being. The book held me as I read through its comforting and challenging material, cradling me steadily. It critically calls out our health care system and validates LGBTQIA2S+ experiences from an anti-prison, anti-racist, decolonial, disability justice, and feminist perspective. 

Edited by Zena Sharman and set to release on October 5, 2021, the book is a hybrid of essays, poetry, stories, and interview transcripts. Containing works from over 10 LGBTQIA2S+ community members, including Sharman, its 272 pages are stretched into a vast array of subtopics under LGBTQIA2S+ health. These include exploring sexuality and pleasure, rest and healing through spiritual ceremony, aging and the prevalence of diet culture, and more. 

With the predominant theme being “liberatory and transformative approaches to LGBTQ+ health,” this book involves addressing many sensitive and triggering topics — like racism, colonialism, homophobia, transphobia, ableism, and trauma. Although each piece doesn’t feature its own trigger warnings, the introduction gives notice that this book covers difficult subjects. 

“The truth is, this whole book might feel triggering, which is a reflection of what we’re up against and why systemic transformation is both necessary and possible,” wrote Sharman. 

The introduction is crucial to read before diving into the core contents of the book. My feelings of fear and dread about a white editor being behind a book on LGBTQIA2S+ health — where key issues disproportionately affect BIPOC — were soothed here. Sharman acknowledges there’s “a subtle, insidious conditioning into whiteness I’ve been taught all my life [I’m] in an ongoing process of unlearning.

I carefully navigated this book cover to cover; because thinking of all the times my queer chosen family and I were disrespected or harmed by the healthcare system makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand. The book contains just enough challenging material needed to reach these ambitious goals. In other words, Sharman seems to have meticulously navigated the danger of over-sensationalizing violence as a means of provoking reactions. As a trans-nonbinary, queer, neurodiverse person of colour, I felt very seen, validated, and uplifted.

Not only does The Care We Dream Of stitch together our collective grief and hope, it also provides powerful and practical calls to action that health practitioners can immediately start applying to their work, like providing waiting room chairs that comfortably seat all body types. 

Half the profits from this book will be going to “groups and organizations focused on the healing and liberation of queer and trans people who are Black, Indigenous, and people of colour.” Sharman’s intentions for The Care We Dream Of shine through vividly, and the writers’ incredible contributions seamlessly form a powerful, unified vision for a healthcare system that leaves nobody behind. 

What Grinds Our Gears: Carrying cash

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I’m sick of fumbling with coins and cash. PHOTO: Krystal Chan / The Peak

by Chitransh Motwani, SFU Student

It’s 2021, why are we still dealing with bills when we could just pay for everything with our cards or phones? As a minimalist, I absolutely hate carrying cash. 

I just don’t want to deal with nickels, dimes, quarters, loonies, toonies, and bills. If I have to pay cash, I have to figure out the math for my transactions, but when I’m paying with my card, I never have to deal with that headache.

The most irritating part is that it becomes a cycle. Once you start paying with cash you can basically never stop. You give someone a bill, they give you change, then you give someone a smaller bill and they give you more change. Now you’re left with a pocket full of coins. What’s more, it’s very hard to keep track of my expenditures when I’m using cash instead of my card. When I use my card I can easily see my spending history online, but with cash, I have no idea where my money went. 

I think it’s time we get rid of these pesky bills and coins once and for all.

Professors should give students the space to share their pronouns

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We should be making conscious efforts to be better allies. PHOTO: Sharon McCutcheon / Unsplash

by Tamanna T., Staff Writer

It’s common for professors to ask students to introduce themselves in classes. They’re asked their majors and year of study, among other things, but are seldom invited to share their pronouns. Professors should make a conscious effort to give students the option to state pronouns in class to promote inclusivity. 

Through asking for pronouns, professors can create a safe space in classrooms. This makes transgender, non-binary, and gender nonconforming students feel respected, and prevents misgendering. Given that not all students have been exposed to gender-neutral pronouns (they/them/theirs) and neopronouns (such as ze/zir/zirs), giving folks who use these pronouns space to express themselves in classrooms is integral. It’s important to create an inclusive learning environment, and professors are a core part of that. 

Gender construction is a product of a society which prioritizes a binary, in which only two genders are recognized. This is damaging to those who don’t “fit” in this system. It’s time this changes. Pronouns can be an integral part of gender identity, and simply assuming gender based on appearance can be extremely detrimental. Additionally, if a non-binary student is the only person sharing their pronouns, they may feel isolated, but when the entire class is sharing their pronouns, it could provide a sense of relief. 

Small effort from the instructor’s side can make a significant impact on students’ comfort level in classrooms. For example, instructors can normalize pronoun-sharing by mentioning their own pronouns before asking the class to do so. They should also have their pronouns in their Canvas profile and email signatures, and encourage students to do the same. By normalizing sharing pronouns in general and academic settings, we’re putting a stop to the practice of assuming people’s identities from their perceived appearances, and ensuring we’re being better allies to the LGBTQIA2S+ community. 

However, as important as it is to provide space for pronoun-sharing, it shouldn’t be mandatory. This can generate stress in students who are still attempting to figure out their identity. Simply suggesting students can share their pronouns if they’re comfortable is much more empathetic. 

Pronouns are not that complicated — at the end of the day it’s simply about being kind and increasing acceptance for all forms of gender identity.

Saying no is healthy

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There’s a lot that a simple “no” can offer. PHOTO: SHVETS / Pexels

by Jacob Mattie, Peak Associate

It’s the first semester back in-person after a long 18 months of online learning, and many of us are eager to take part in the various communities SFU has to offer. As we may want social interaction but feel unfamiliar in group settings, we must stay aware of any pressures to downplay discomfort in favour of accommodating others. This is more likely to cause harm than good — and there is a lot of value in voicing our discomforts to build a closer-knit community.

It’s not possible or healthy to avoid all forms of discomfort — it’s how we learn and grow! But it’s important to have boundaries for ourselves, and for those around us. This is also a great way to recognize peer pressure. Boundaries can apply to sharing personal information, physical contact, personal space, and or things like drinking or smoking. Comfort levels will vary from person to person, so while we draw our own boundaries, it’s equally important to be aware of where others set their limits. 

Naturally, setting boundaries can lead to some uncertainty when around new people, and it’s to be expected they feel the same around us. In face of uncertainty, we find the myriad ways of saying no are invaluable tools in building friendships where we feel are both comfortable and sustainable. A line I’ve found quite useful in awkward situations is “I’ll share [x] when we know each other better.” 

By being explicit about our boundaries, we not only preserve our own comfort, but help define to others the space they have to move about freely. This also creates room to show trust when we do feel comfortable expressing the topic in question.

There’s value in the phrase, “No, but . . .” since it can help you assert your boundaries but still have fun. If you’re not comfortable drinking alcohol, for example, you can say “No, but I can get a non-alcoholic drink while we hang out.” 

By offering alternatives to a rejected suggestion, not only are you being true to your own levels of comfort, but you are also encouraging others to reconsider their behaviour patterns. This lets the best of each person come through, as friendship dynamics grow off improvements and communication, rather than succumbing to the pressures of something.

What is Truth and Reconciliation Day?

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ruth and Reconciliation Day forces institutions to be accountable every year. PHOTO: Aedrian / Unsplash

by Kelly Chia, Staff Writer

Content warning: residential schools, racial trauma, sexual assault, and violence

September 30, 2021, will be Canada’s first Truth and Reconciliation Day. The day was finally made official on June 3, 2021, when both houses of Parliament passed Bill-C. This is a time of reckoning with Canada’s harmful legacy of residential schools, as well as honouring their survivors. This day of commemoration has been item 80 on the 94 Calls to Action offered by the Truth and Reconciliation Commission (TRC) for the last six years. This is so the history and legacy of residential schools are properly commemorated.

This comes after the remains of 215 children were found on the grounds of the former Kamloops Indian Residential School in May 2021. 

Of the 94 Calls to Actions, 13 have been completed and 29 are underway. Further, 32 projects have been proposed where relevant parties have committed to action or agreed to funding but have not followed through yet and 20 have not been started. Since May 2021, over 1,300 graves of children have been found. To this day, we are unsure how many children have died in residential schools.

After finding these remains at the former Kamloops residential school grounds, the director of the Indian Residential School History and Dialogue Centre, Mary Ellen Turpel-Lafond said she had trouble accessing student records. In an article from CBC, Turpel-Lafond said First Nations communities are fighting against the federal government and Catholic Church in court to gain access to them. This has been an ongoing struggle with both institutions for over 20 years.

The TRC has requested these burial sites be investigated since 2009 when they asked the federal government for $1.5 million to help fund these efforts. This support would help identify how many children died in residential schools and investigate what administrative policies could have related to the deaths and illnesses of students. This was rejected by Indian Affairs. 

If reconciliation is truly a Canadian priority, why has it taken so long for us to confront our history in this way? Even at this moment, we can not properly grieve every child that has been lost on these school grounds, and yet media coverage seems to have fallen compared to May.

We need Truth and Reconciliation Day because we cannot focus only on Indigenous issues when it is sensational. Additionally, it’s important for media coverage to not only focus on Indigenous resilience, but also Indigenous joy. Residential schools are only one component of the systemic racism Indigenous peoples continue to face.

 

 

Why we need this day, and why we need more 

Truth and Reconciliation Day is one action pushed forward after the discovery of unmarked graves at Kamloops Residential School, as there had been calls to search the grounds for years. The National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation (NCTR) at the University of Manitoba confirmed that across Canada, there have been 4,100 deaths from 1900 to 1971 related to residential schools, but there are likely thousands more. Because there are funding barriers with searching burial sites, and delays in retrieving school records, we do not have a full understanding of how devastating these schools were. 

Residential schools were built solely to “assimilate” Indigenous identities into Canadian society. They ripped children from their families, cut off their hair, and replaced their names. The TRC said, “Discipline was harsh, and daily life was highly regimented. Aboriginal languages and cultures were demeaned and suppressed.” Many students would be punished for speaking their native language. The TRC also said there were no clear policies on discipline and lack of supervision led to sexual and physical assault. 

Government inaction continues to oppress Indigenous peoples today. For example, Prime Minister Justin Trudeau promised to fix drinking water advisories in First Nations communities by March 2021. However, the federal government has now said this won’t be completed until 2024 and it would not be until 2025–26 that some affected nations would have long-term solutions. The inability to access clean water is an example of the many health inequities Indigenous peoples face when receiving health care in this country. The Indigenous Health Working Group (IHWP) reported 78% of Indigenous peoples in Canada had racist experiences in healthcare settings, leading to a strong distrust of the healthcare system.

The IHWP also criticized federal policies that have intergenerational effects on Indigenous cultures and mental health. The Indian Act in 1876 oversaw sweeping policies that sanctioned the autonomy and cultures of Indigenous peoples, such as forcing people to drop their Indigenous status to go to university, join the military, or vote. 

This is why we should push our federal government and other institutions, like the Catholic Church, to issue full apologies and provide funding to encourage reconciliation efforts. 

The Catholic Church has not issued an apology for its role in the residential school system. While some individual churches have, the TRC and The Indian Residential School Survivors Society have requested a formal apology from Pope Francis, and they have not received it. 

The Catholic Church was the institution to open up to 60% of residential schools and it is atrocious they have refused to apologize when asked. 

The Catholic Church agreed to compensate survivors $29 million in 2005, but CBC reported they have only managed to raise about four million after over a decade while dedicating $300 million towards building renovations.

 

What can we do?

To make sure survivors get their overdue compensation, we must put pressure on Pope Francis and the Canadian Conference of Catholic Bishops. Active History has provided an email template for people to use to urge the Pope to apologize to survivors, and lay out a concrete plan for how they will follow the TRC Calls to Action.

We should also call and email our Members of Parliament and Premiers and put pressure on them to lay out a plan to address the 20 remaining Calls to Action and to follow through on the other 32 currently in progress.

While apologies are nowhere enough, we can not wait for a tragic discovery to pressure these institutions to apologize, and then disappear when asked to take action. This Truth and Reconciliation day is an opportunity for us to educate ourselves on the atrocities of colonial policies and to celebrate the strength and resilience of Indigenous peoples today. 

This year, the Tk’emlúps te Secwépemc Nation who announced the 215 graves found in Kamloops are encouraging people to learn the Secwépemc Honour Song to sing at 2:15 p.m. on September 30 to mark the first Truth and Reconciliation Day.

The NCTR is also hosting a five-day national event where Every Child Matters will host historical workshops and activities to learn the truths of the residential schools system and Indigenous treaties. People are encouraged to wear an orange shirt bought from Indigenous organizations to commemorate Truth and Reconciliation Day and to learn about whose land they are on and the history of it’s Indigenous peoples. 

Residential school students can seek support through the Indian Residential Schools Resolution Health Support Program by going to their website or calling them at 1-866-925-4419.

The Bright-er Side: Moving out helped me appreciate my mother more

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ILLUSTRATION: Siloam Yeung / The Peak

by Lubaba Mahmud, Opinions Editor

A couple years ago, when I was applying for university thousands of miles away from home, I was excited to move out and become independent. As much as I love my mother, I was a little tired of being babied. My mother is incredibly family-oriented and went out of her way to spend time with us. As a typical teenager though, I thought I was too cool for her. 

But now we can only manage to talk a couple of times a week thanks to our busy schedules and a huge time difference, I’ve come to appreciate her a lot more. When I call her and say “Hi ma!” she gives me the biggest smile and tells me her day is already made. Cheesy, yes, but when it comes to my mother I just know that she really means the overly sweet things she says. 

When I’m forced to work or study while eating, I’m reminded of how she always used to say I deserve a break. She called my eating breaks her “my time” and dragged me out of my workstation to sit with her and eat. I used to be annoyed because I wanted to be by myself then, but now that she’s not standing by my door and eyeing me at lunchtime, I wish she was.

Living away from my family forced me to take on some real adult responsibilities. Now whether it be buying furniture or paying bills on time, each new task reminds me of how easy I had it back home. As we bond over the tough journey adulthood is, I keep being increasingly in awe of how she handles being a full-time working woman with grace.

As I grow older, I can appreciate my mother for who she is as a woman and a friend, not just as a mother. I thought moving away to a different country would teach me about the so-called outside world, and it did, but one of the most important lessons I got was admiring what I had back home.

Fun facts about SFU Burnaby campus locations

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Next time you’re up on Burnaby campus be sure to take some time and explore. ILLUSTRATIONS: Josh Ralla / The Peak

by Marco Ovies, Features Editor

So you’ve been on campus for a couple of weeks now and you’ve managed to figure out where all of your classes are located. But there is so much more to SFU Burnaby campus than just getting lost trying to find your lecture hall. Let me be your guide as you tour the most famous spots on campus.

 

Academic Quadrangle (AQ)

If you’re a fellow non-geometry nerd, you’re probably wondering, “What the heck is a quadrangle?” I’m here to tell you it is essentially a square. Why wouldn’t they want to call the Academic Quadrangle the Academic Square? Besides “square” not having the same academic feel to it, I have a feeling it was because SFU is smart enough to know us “mature” university students would instantly use the acronym AS to call it The Ass (that’s where my mind went anyway). This is also the reason they changed the university name from Fraser University to Simon Fraser University because “FU” did not look great on varsity jackets.

On a more serious note, the most notable spot in the AQ has to be the reflecting pond on the fourth floor (I know it doesn’t look like a “floor” but it is still technically the fourth floor, I swear). Inside the pond is a green-looking rock which is actually six tons of lillooet jade that was brought from Hell’s Gate in the Fraser Canyon before the construction of SFU. It is credited as the founding stone of the university.

The reflecting pond where this founding stone is located was one of the special touches SFU architect Arthur Erickson added when designing the campus. He said his design for SFU was inspired by the Acropolis in Athens and the Italian hillsides (I don’t quite see it either, don’t worry).

Also located on the fourth floor of the AQ is the infamous avocado statue which many students have claimed is a perfect hook-up spot (I am not talking from personal experience here, I promise). While the avocado-like shape may remind students to eat healthily, it is actually not meant to be an avocado at all. Artist Carlos Basanta called this piece of art Oval Reflections and in a 2014 interview with The Peak, confirmed it is neither an egg nor an avocado, but rather an “egg-avocado.” In reference to his art, Basanta said, “the egg is the most perfect and organic shape and is the symbol of beginning, fertility, and wholeness” which is why the sculpture has its oval shape. If you look inside the sculpture, you are able to see your reflection along with some writing inside. Instead of telling you what this writing says, I encourage you to check out the sculpture and take a seat inside to really experience the intent behind this artwork.

 

Maggie Benston

Who is Maggie Benston you may ask? Well, she is famous for her incredible work in chemistry, computer science, and women’s studies at SFU. According to Vancouver Women’s Caucus, “women only made up 12% of faculty and only 37% of the student body.” Benston also went on to found the Women’s Caucus (now renamed the “Women’s Centre”) alongside other staff, another female faculty member Andrea Lebowitz, and students. The Women’s Caucus dealt with issues regarding jobs, education, and society’s responsibility for children

Additionally, Maggie Benston was also the first “to place the politics of women’s liberation within an anticapitalist framework and to identify domestic labor as the material basis of women’s structural relation to capitalist production and their subordination in society.” To put it in simpler terms, capitalism could not operate without the free reproductive labour of women.

In regards to the actual building itself, its multiple layers are designed to look like a bifurcated staircase (for those of you who don’t have a dictionary handy, it’s basically one of those staircases that start as one big staircase and then split into two tiny staircases going in opposite directions). What most people don’t know is the roof of Maggie Benston has a Xeroflor rain system that helps SFU capture and store rainwater. It is hidden by “14 different species of Sedum Acre succulents, featuring, Dragon’s Blood, Oktoberfest, and Weihenstephaner Gold.”

 

Saywell Hall

Infamous for being home to what I like to call The Staircase of Death (trademark pending), Saywell Hall is actually named after ex-SFU president William Saywell. He is credited as the longest-running SFU president from 1983–1993. Ten years — that is almost how long it takes some students to finally graduate from SFU. During his time as president “he helped initiate the development of SFU’s downtown Vancouver campus and increased gender equality in SFU’s hiring practices.”

In Saywell Hall, there is plenty of artwork to be seen if you have the chance to look. Notably, there are pieces of Indigenous artwork like Frog Constellation by Jim Hart (Haida) and Written in Earth by Susan Point (Musqueam), located right at the bottom of the stairs in the Atrium Gathering Space.

Of Frog Constellation, Jim Hart said, “The frog is quite powerful in our thinking. It’s one of the creatures that can go in two worlds, in the water and in the upper world, our world . . . The frog is one of my family crests, but I don’t know the family story, how that came to be one of our crests.” It took him close to three and a half years to finish and he refers to the sculpture as his “PhD.”

 

Trottier Observatory

Has your significant other ever told you they needed space? Well, you are in luck because you can take them to the Trottier Observatory to look at all the space they might need. Trottier Observatory is named after SFU professor Howard Trottier, who actually still teaches at the university, and his brother Lorne Trottier. I would highly recommend everyone to try and take PHYS 190 Introduction to Astronomy with Howard Trottier (it is interesting, I promise). This area on campus is by far one of my favourite places.

The best time to go is at night when the plaza features illuminated seasonal star charts and the long rectangular seating area “glows with coloured bands that reference elemental emission spectra.” For those of you wondering what the elemental emission spectra is, basically each element emits a specific colour of light when you run electricity through it and view it through a prism. This creates a very pretty looking bench during the later hours of the day.

On the ground, metal plates indicate the powers of ten, which is what astronomers use to measure the galaxy. Even the screens placed around the plaza are intentional and represent “a key component in quantum theory in which objects can appear solid yet are spaced apart.” Around the central dome are local plants on pedestals that represent the orbiting of the planets around the sun. Every time I visit the observatory I notice a new detail and there is definitely more to look at, so I really encourage you to visit one day.

Additionally, the dome is the home of a 0.7m telescope with the ability to look at galaxies a billion years old. Best of all, it is open to the public during a weekly event called Starry Nights, held on clear nights every Friday. You don’t need to know anything about astronomy to attend this event and children are encouraged to come. Alongside the giant telescope are groups of volunteers who bring their own telescopes to show people different parts of space. Because of COVID-19, the event is being held digitally for the foreseeable future but keep an eye out for the return of this out-of-this-world event.

Fairything and SIESKI dazzle live audience at Queer Coded pride event

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Performers Fairything and SIESKI playing their instruments on a raised grassy platform
Performers Fairything (left) and SIESKI (right) and host Queer Coded mark a joyful return to in-person concerts. Photo: Kelly Chia / The Peak

By: Kelly Chia, Staff Writer

With the backdrop of a peachy sunset, Queer Coded’s Pride Picnic waved the summer off and treated the audience at Thunderbird Commons to a concert by performers SIESKI and Fairything (Alex Masse). Pride flags were strewn about the venue, and sandwiches were distributed to every guest. The atmosphere felt comforting, and for many like myself, this was the first live concert we’d been to since the pandemic.

SIESKI was the first artist performing that night. A local queer musician, SIESKI has released singles over the last few years, with her debut EP, Dreamist, launched in 2019. In an interview, she described her work as “raw song-stories that flow and swell and absorb the listener. 

“I make art to connect with humans. I connect with humans to make art,” said SIESKI. “I love to share my stories with others and cultivate unique performance experiences to build a connection that is multi-faceted — thoughtful, pensive, emotional, yet also silly, light-hearted, and fun.” 

Her music has a sonical touch of heaven and mischief. The instrumentals felt electric, and her gentle vocals and evocative lyrics made it entrancing to listen to her. One of the songs embodying that electricity was SIESKI’s newest single, “Lady Deity,” which celebrates queer feminity and desire. The lyrics are reverent and sensual, laying out intimate, first-touch experiences between the singer and subject as nothing less than divine. 

However, the song that struck me the most was SIESKI’s final song of the night, “Scale Model.” The lyrics embodied the dissonance of having your mind settle into a monotone routine and feeling like you are just watching your life happen before you. 

SIESKI said she wrote “Scale Model” in the summer when she was working four jobs. “I felt like my life was moving, and I was just living a scale model of it, too exhausted to be present.”

Calm vocals and instrumentals eased the tone and lifted the song past the drudgery SIESKI sings about. That’s how she capped the set: with clean, silky vocals that left audience members swaying. 

Masse began their set with plenty of good humour. A local artist, SFU student, and former Peak staff writer, Masse released their first single in August 2020. As implied by their titles, Masse’s two EPs, Lost Lunar Levels and A Year, Moonbound, have a cool, spacey quality to them. There are these fun tinkles and a moving synth bass in their pieces that sound like video game music.

According to Masse, their work is based on their life experiences. “I guess I’m just putting things out there that I never had, because I never got to like echo back some of the things that I talked about — I don’t know a lot of people who make content about being a nonbinary lesbian, or being a neurodivergent nonbinary lesbian,” they said. 

One of the songs that resonated with me that evening was Masse’s “Princess Skin.” The lyrics are notably darker, with references to death, but in the sense of rejecting the identity put onto Masse. Throughout the song, Masse sings about shedding the rotting princess skin that has been put onto them. 

However, the second half of the song is empowering. In Masse’s words, “I guess I wrote it to express why I want to live how I live?” The song is dark at times, but the lilting melody of Masse’s voice, even as emotion charged through the song, was mesmerizing. 

While Masse was expressing truths specific to their experiences, they were also wary of the emotional toll expressing those. “I don’t want to get to a point where I profit off my own misery because then I am chasing my own misery [ . . . ] I don’t need to do that to myself, and I don’t want to do that to other people. 

“I do not want trauma or sadness to be my brand, I want my brand to just be, you know, weird neuroqueer shenanigans!”

After discussing “Princess Skin,” they added it was equally important to make their joy known as well. My favourite song of Masse’s set was “Genderdyke,” because it is genuinely happy. 

“I wanted to write a song about my gender identity because I never really see it represented and I know a lot of people don’t understand it,” they said. “So this is basically me trying to put it into words, and simultaneously celebrate it, because the world needs more nonbinary joy.”

Masse hopes to make more music centred on their happiness in future pieces. “I’m liking writing happy songs that aren’t just about yearning, or fighting to figure out my gender identity and stuff,” they said. “More themes of gender euphoria, and more themes of neuroqueer love, and [ . . . ] just neurodivergent self-love.” 

Overall, it was a fun night to celebrate the queer feelings that struck a chord with me, and the audience. 

SIESKI’s work can be found on her Instagram, @sieski_, on her Spotify as SIESKI, and on her website, sieski.com. Masse’s music and works can be found on Spotify as Fairything, and on their Instagram @itsfairything.

What Grinds Our Gears: Keeping cookware in the fridge

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Save your dang fridge space. PHOTO: Old Youth / Unsplash

by Jacob Mattie, Peak Associate

If you’re like me and have very little disposable income, chances are you do a lot of your own cooking — and by association, the cleanup as well. 

You may, then, at some time or another, find yourself looking at a pot full of food, an empty shelf in your fridge, and think to yourself you’ve discovered a great way to both avoid having to wash a container and to put off the pot-washing until a later date. 

But I’m here to tell you: Don’t. Fucking. Do it. 

There is something inherently unappetizing and gross about food coming from a clammy fridge-fogged pot that’ll probably impart its flavours to the body of your fridge for the rest of its life. And you’ll still have to wash the dang pot once you’ve eaten the food! Except now you’ll be scrubbing off all the caked-on residue that would have been so easy to clean if only it had been washed while it was still fresh.

Unless you have a plethora of pots to cook with (which I doubt, because let’s be real, we’re all students here), at some point you’ll grow hungry and remember that your only pot is buried beneath at least ten minutes of work.

Your fridge and pots deserve better than the toxic relationship you’re putting them through. As Marie Kondo would say, “This does not bring joy.” 

Where you live as a student matters

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Being stuck in a dark basement suite for all of the winter negatively affected my mental health. PHOTO: Alyssa Marie Umbal / The Peak

by Tamanna T., Staff Writer

Being a university student isn’t easy. You have to deal with maintaining decent grades, participating in extracurriculars, socializing, dating, and maybe even finding a part-time job to pay for your education. If balancing multiple things at once isn’t enough, universities are often so far away from home, the only option is to move out of your parents’ house. 

As an international student, moving out meant moving countries, and that was perhaps the hardest part. When I lived in India I knew all the best restaurants in town and all my friends lived close by. But all of a sudden, I was a stranger in a foreign country where I had no one to rely on. It was terrifying.

As I slowly got used to living in Vancouver and learnt more about the transit system — the SkyTrain is so cool — I finally felt somewhat settled in the city. I first lived in a townhouse full of SFU students and after a while, I became more familiar with the city. I knew which bus to take to SFU and which bus to take to Downtown Vancouver, but there was still an emptiness that haunted me. 

I later realized it was where I was living and the environment around me that made me feel low and depressed a lot of the time. I missed my dog and the comfort of my own room back home. Though I started to get to know people, as a first-year newbie, I was still lonely. I wanted to make friends and socialize, but my housing situation made it difficult. I had roommates, but we were not close and all had different schedules with school and work. On days when I did not have work, I would hide in my room and live in a constant state of agitation — torn between wanting to go out yet needing to stay inside because of COVID-19. Depression can be hard to spot at first, but difficult to contain once it creeps in. 

While I did eventually move out of my first place of residence, its impact stuck with me. I began to suffer from imposter syndrome, telling myself I wasn’t good enough and downplaying every achievement. I felt like I didn’t belong and everyone around me was doing so much better than me, resulting in a warped perception of myself.

I soon moved into a healthier environment with fewer roommates, which helped. However, the place itself caused feelings of isolation and depression. Pro tip: avoid living in a basement suite in the middle of a global pandemic. With nowhere to go and being forced to stay in a dimly lit basement for months on end with limited interaction with other humans (my two roommates were busy with their own jobs and school), I started to feel homesick. My already challenging experience of being a university student was worsened by COVID-19. 

Throughout 2020, I started to call my mom and dad everyday, but after a while, there was nothing new or exciting to talk about. The conversations died out, the TV shows all turned into one, and the movies I watched became dull and monotonous. COVID-19 turned my chance of happiness in my new residence into a zombie movie, where I barely existed outside of my room. As the days blurred and winter came along, so did seasonal depression. The days started to get shorter and I was still unable to leave the basement because of restrictions, which further forced me into isolation and sad Spotify playlists. 

Finally, the new year brought a chance to move again, and I relocated to SFU Residences, which proved to be a blessing in disguise. What initially seemed like a nerve-wracking change transformed into a much happier experience of being surrounded by people. Even though I’m still inside my room a lot, the chitter-chatter of many people outside my door calms me down and makes me feel like a human again. This weird sensation of being content while not actively socializing around people washes over me and I feel happy with where I live for the first time since I moved to Canada in 2019.

As an international student, I haven’t been home in almost two years — my parents didn’t want me travelling while the situation in India was so bad — which naturally makes me miss it and all the comforts it provided. But finding a place that works for me was the best thing I could have done for my mental health. 

Moving across cities and countries can be scary, especially when you are moving away from your family for the first time. So let me tell you, where you move matters. In order to preserve your mental health and be at your academic best in your university life, try and find a place that suits your comfort level. If you don’t, you might be stuck somewhere you don’t want to be and miss out on the good life university has to offer.

 

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Simon Fraser University’s independent student newspaper since 1965.

Contact us: [email protected]

© The Peak Publications Society 1965-2024

Simon Fraser University’s independent student newspaper since 1965.

Contact us:
[email protected]

© The Peak Publications Society 1965-2024