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Hogan’s Alley Society hosts discussion on the importance of Afrocentric values

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Peak Web
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A black and white photograph of the London Drugs in Hogan’s Alley, 1968, is pictured. There are two floors above the store of apartments, and this building sits at the corner of the streets its on.
PHOTO: Courtesy of City of Vancouver Archives / The London Drugs at 800 Main Street, Hogan’s Alley, 1968.

By: Niveja Assalaarachchi, News Writer

On February 10, the Hogan’s Alley Society (HAS) hosted an online discussion exploring the impact of Afrocentric values in public spaces throughout the Lower Mainland. The event, which is part of the organization’s “Building Belonging” series, featured a panel of community leaders who shared their experiences on what it means to be Black in Vancouver and discussed plans for the redevelopment of the historic Hogan’s Alley neighbourhood.

Founded in the early 20th century, Hogan’s Alley was a multiracial neighbourhood in Vancouver, known primarily as a Black cultural hub. Despite being a hub of Black Canadian culture, city officials often claimed the area was a “slum” and in need of urban renewal — an ideology that dominated post-war Vancouver. The area was demolished in 1967 to make way for the Georgia Viaduct — a small part of a larger plan to construct freeways throughout the city. 

Plans to rezone the viaduct and revive Hogan’s Alley have been proposed throughout the years. In 2021, Vancouver City Council approved the rezoning of a plot of land in Chinatown which contained historic structures important to Vancouver’s Black community. The following year saw the signing of a historic Memorandum of Understanding between the Hogan’s Alley Society and the City relating to land redevelopment in the area. 

With the area receiving a new lease on life, the Hogan’s Alley Society has worked on incorporating Afrocentric design standards into their development process. Afrocentric values in design centre African cultural understanding and engagement with the local environment into the architectural process. Panel moderator Michelle Fenton, who is a local architect, noted the unique nature of planning for the society:

“We didn’t really know what Afrocentric design standards in the Pacific Northwest meant — and so as a community, we developed that together.”

— Michelle Fenton, panel moderator and founding partner of Khora Architecture

Blending Afrocentric values into a colonial environment was a key topic of discussion for the panel. Panel members highlighted the ongoing trauma faced by Black Canadians as a result of colonialism. Specifically, panellist Kendra Coupland pointed out that Afrocentric values can differ on an individual basis and that working in a colonial context impacts them. “For most people across Canada — regardless of race, regardless of gender — we live in a society that makes it very difficult to just be in a body.” She said, “We kind of learned to be disconnected from our bodies in so many different ways that it makes it so difficult. So for me, the challenge is ‘how do I create spaces within the larger context that we live in where people can actually practise agencies within themselves?’” This connects to a larger principle in Afrocentric values of being connected to one’s culture and body as a result of colonization. 

The panel touched on the lack of specificity seen historically in building standards in areas that predominantly have a minority population. The panellists argued it left these areas at great disadvantage, which the HAS aimed to correct in its redevelopment of Hogan’s Alley. Panel member Tura Cousins Wilson said, “If you’re not designing with a specific community in mind, or group, or individual, it’s hard to get specific — and when it’s difficult to get specific, it’s hard to truly be authentic in the design.” 

Following the panel’s discussion, the HAS named the five different design standards that have been instrumental in the redevelopment of Hogan’s Alley. HAS’ first standard highlighted the need for buildings to feel authentic to cultural ties in order for residents to feel they belong there. This ties into the second design process, which aims to construct buildings that “embodied the collective expression of the African and Caribbean diaspora.” 

HAS’ third standard aimed to make any building in the new development meet accessibility standards and be adaptable to those who live there. The second-to-last standard highlights HAS’ goal to create a place for voices to be highlighted, and the last standard aimed to highlight reconciliation with Indigenous Peoples. 

BC needs to implement a menstrual leave legislation

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Peak Web
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a woman takes out a pad out of her bag in the office. She is visibly self-conscious, and is checking to see if she is seen by others.
PHOTO: Juliana Manalo / The Peak

By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Approximately 1.8 billion people menstruate each month. Despite being a natural phase of the reproductive cycle, menstrual periods are still stigmatized in public because of deep-seated cultural taboos rooted in patriarchal beliefs. Pervasive period stigma breeds feelings of shame and embarrassment for people who menstruate, who are taught from a young age to tip toe around the subject. Conditioned to downplay the symptoms of our cycles, the accompanying cramps, nausea, fatigue, and debilitating pain are frequently invalidated by non-menstruators and, most inconceivably, health practitioners. However, this dismissal does not change the fact that period pain can be severe and disruptive for many. Without concrete legal legislation to protect menstruating workers, BC must consider establishing a paid menstrual leave framework on top of standard sick days to help those with period pain rest and manage their pain accordingly. 

The realities of menstrual pain are excruciating for some. Just consider the online trend of people testing out period pain simulators. One such video depicting the testing of these devices on cowboys at the Calgary Stampede went viral as their macho façades turned out to be just that: façades. While the cowboys gripped their stomachs in agony at the highest settings, their distress was in stark contrast to menstruators, who remained completely unfazed at the same level. Keep in mind that these simulations lasted mere minutes and only reproduced the physical pain of abdominal cramps. Now, imagine having to deal with actual debilitating period pain and other compounding symptoms, such as constipation, headaches, vomiting, lower back pain, and much more, for up to seven days a month. How might this affect your performance at work? In a 2023 report published by Women and Gender Equality Canada, a staggering three quarters of respondents disclosed that menstruating can interfere with their daily school, work, and household routines. Endometriosis (where abnormal tissue growth causes extreme pelvic and period pain), uterine fibroids (tumours that grow in the uterus), and dysmenorrhea (a medical term for menstrual cramps which are experienced by 60% of menstruators) are some of the common causes of period pain, and are serious medical issues that should be handled with care and compassion. 

And yet, there remains a sharp disparity between the provincial government’s stated commitment to advancing gender equity and the lack of legal safeguards to tackle the treatment of workplace menstrual health.

Without an accessible menstrual leave policy in place, menstruating workers are forced to ration their five days of paid sick leave for the worst days. But herein lies the issue — periods aren’t exactly the only physical pain a person might experience in a year, nor do people run on five menstrual cycles a year. Even worse, I don’t know which cycles will be tolerable and which will leave me curled up in bed sobbing for relief. Being forced to work while menstruating can be incredibly taxing on the body. Instead of recuperating in the comfort of our own home, inhospitable workplace environments, such as inadequate or restricted access to washroom facilities, uncomfortable temperatures, limited scheduled breaks, stress and pressure, and more, can leave menstruators in a worse state than the one they began the day with.

Gender equity in the workplace and removing structural barriers so that marginalized genders have the tools they need to succeed are related issues. A working culture that promotes sexual and reproductive health is key to a supportive and inclusive workplace. Workers who menstruate deserve dedicated accommodations that will protect them from discrimination and/or retaliatory actions from employers due to an inability to work because of period pain. When the physical and mental well-being of workers is prioritized, productivity will unquestionably follow, and so will mutual loyalty and trust.

BC should learn from Spain’s case. In a historic first for Europe, Spain’s menstrual leave legislation offers workers up to five days of paid sick leave per month. It’s a step in the right direction for a workers-first mentality, but since its enactment three years ago, an average of only 4.75 million workers out of a 21 million strong labour force have taken advantage of this flexible arrangement. Some have pointed to the strict requirements of this legislation which require employees to submit an official medical diagnosis to be eligible for menstrual leave days. However, the larger issue may be the fear of retaliation to the point of losing one’s job should an employer perceive workers on menstrual leave as a liability. Menstrual leave is just a stepping stone to introducing better labour laws that positions the rights of vulnerable workers before their employers.

With International Women’s Day fast approaching on March 8, the province must recognize menstrual equity as an indispensable component of legal labour frameworks that can enhance the health and well-being of menstruating workers. Gender equity — and menstrual equity by extension — is a fundamental human right that needs to be respected in patriarchal societies where people have been subjected to horrific prejudice and violence because of their gender identities. Legislating menstrual leave is a question of common decency and should not be debated.

 

It’s time to get organized and stop the proposed dredging of the Burrard Inlet

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Peak Web
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a photo of the Burrard Inlet that shows the mountainous landscape.
PHOTO: Chad Montgomery / Unsplash

By: Mason Mattu, Section Editor 

According to the Port of Vancouver, dredging work in the Burrard Inlet could start as soon as this year. Supporters of this plan, including Prime Minister Mark Carney, say that this dredging project will allow for an increase in the amount of oil transported by tankers to the Trans Mountain Pipeline terminal. This project poses great threats — both to our environment and economy — and we must mobilize to stop it. 

Dredging as a process removes sediments and debris from the bottoms of waterways. When governments wish to transport more oil across bodies of water, the vessel requires more water to float. Dredging allows for that. However, it also allows for the destruction of habitats. 

What makes the proposed dredging so dangerous is the lack of care for the sensitive ecosystem of the area. Colonialism destroyed the Burrard Inlet’s ecosystem as settlers overexploited the fish supply, taking away the livelihoods of the səlilwətaɬ (Tsleil-Waututh People). In the present day, despite both the government and corporations continuing to exploit the Burrard Inlet, the səlilwətaɬ has attempted to repair the ecosystem, focussing on restoring kelp beds (sources of food and shelter that support the ecosystem) to the inlet. Those working on this dredging project have shown little interest in the environment here. In fact, there is no funding from the federal government for proper research to be conducted before the project begins. 

Alongside this, with tankers carrying more oil, we face increased risks for a catastrophic oil spill. If a large oil spill occurs, which is a higher possibility with the amount of oil we wish to carry across the inlet, we’re talking about risks we can all feel! From a deterioration in air quality, to destruction of our food systems.

There is a reason why the stewards of the land, the səlilwətaɬ, have opposed this project.

Their name literally translates to “People of the Inlet.” 

Moreover, this project is not in the best interest of our local economy. When the ecosystem of the Burrard Inlet experiences environmental harm, it will impact the Salish Seas business of the səlilwətaɬ, xʷməθkʷəy̓əm (Musqueam), and ɬaʔamɩn (Tla’amin) Nations — a business that generates revenue from sustainable fishing and harvesting. 

Any project that supports the oil industry is not in the best interest of our national economy. According to estimates, global peak oil demand could be reached by 2029. This would create a conundrum in this heavily taxpayer-subsidized industry if we’re not prepared. In a time when global markets are moving away from oil and gas as part of climate agreement targets, we should be prepared to make generational investments in exportable clean energy, not a dying industry. 

Whether you care about healthy communities, or simply want taxpayer dollars to be invested in projects that actually prepare Canada for trade on the global market, there are a lot of reasons to not support this project. 

I encourage readers to write to their MLAs to reconsider project approval. Don’t know what to say? Just copy and paste the body of this article. Now is the time to get organized and stop this disaster from taking place.

Reconnecting with my hormonal rhythms

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Peak Web
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A woman calmly journaling on a wooden desk in front of a sunny window.
PHOTO: Hannah Olinger / Unsplash

By: Petra Chase, Features Editor

Editor’s note: The following article reflects the writer’s personal experience regarding hormonal contraceptives and menstrual cycles, which vary from person to person. It is for informational purposes only. Always consult a qualified medical practitioner for medical advice.

“Don’t listen to her, she’s probably just PMSing.”

Growing up with a menstruating body, the first and few acknowledgements I had of my menstrual cycle were through the lens of dismissal and shame. I was taught it was “gross” to mention my period in the company of boys and men. In school, girls would hide pads and tampons in our sleeves and share them with each other under our desks.

Premenstrual syndrome (PMS) describes a set of symptoms that occur post-ovulation and can last a few days into menstruation. The emotional and physical symptoms vary in intensity and can include fatigue, bloating, irritability, difficulty concentrating, insomnia, and changes in appetite. This is due to hormonal dysregulation during the luteal phase in the menstrual cycle: progesterone and estrogen rise and fall. Serotonin, the “feel good” hormone, also tends to decrease as a result. 

But I was never taught my body goes through monthly chemical changes. In biology class, we learned about menstruation through the lens of reproduction (the egg, the sperm, the shedding of the uterus lining). In a culture that centres men and sidelines women’s health, my mother had never been taught beyond that either. It took me until my 20s to discover there are four distinct hormonal phases of the menstrual cycle. These phases affect mood, energy levels, and physical symptoms in different ways. And by tuning into them, I’d be better equipped to support myself at different points in the month.

Last year, I decided I wanted to reclaim my bodily knowledge. For me, that meant giving my Mirena intrauterine device (IUD) the boot. I had been using it for almost seven years. Hormonal birth control like the Mirena works as a contraceptive by releasing synthetic hormones which inhibit reproductive processes. Everybody is different, so experiences vary. Some people use hormonal contraceptives to treat conditions like endometriosis, control PMS symptoms, or treat gender dysphoria by making periods less painful and frequent, or disappear altogether. 

The trouble was, I was never given the tools to notice and understand my body’s natural hormonal rhythms. Only having a few, painless periods a few times a year was supposed to be a blessing, and one of the vague side effects was changes in mood. But how could I know if it was the right option for me if I had no baseline for comparison? What if there were non-hormonal contraceptive options out there that could better support me?

Since going off synthetic hormones a year ago, I’ve been journalling about my symptoms throughout the month, and it’s been a refreshing process of intuitive reflection. For the first time, I feel like I have insight into what’s happening in my body at any given time and my cycle follows a 28-day pattern.

Right now I’m in my follicular phase, which lasts about 14 days. It starts right after the menstrual phase and leads into ovulation. I see it as my body’s spring. As it prepares an egg for fertilization, there is an influx of follicle-stimulating hormone (FSH) and estrogen, which also increases serotonin levels. This, paired with the sunny days we’ve been having lately, means I am in a particularly good mood. I feel confident, motivated, social, and have noticeably higher energy than usual. I also know that my luteal phase is looming around the corner, so I’m savouring this feeling before ovulation ends and my hormones wreak havoc.

My luteal phase has been the biggest curveball post-Mirena. Physical PMS symptoms have been negligible, but the mood-related ones have been debilitating. I’ll be going about my day when, suddenly, I’m hijacked by catastrophic thoughts that feel impossible to control. It’s either, “everyone hates me,” “I hate everyone,” or both. Sometimes feelings are so overwhelming I shut down, unable to make simple decisions and communicate. It takes everything to hold in a crying spell as I rush back home from wherever I was going. For up to nine days every month, I dream of a cabin in the woods. And then, like clockwork, as soon as I start bleeding, I snap out of it. It’s a mix of relief and guilt, for having lashed out at those close to me and fallen behind on my responsibilities.

Premenstrual dysphoric disorder, or PMDD, is a chronic form of PMS. Its exact cause isn’t known, but it disrupts daily function and requires treatment. Recent studies suggest this psychiatric disorder affects 1.6% of people who menstruate, though due to a lack of awareness and stigma, it is grossly underdiagnosed. 82% of people with PMDD have experienced suicidal thoughts during their luteal phase. I haven’t sought a diagnosis, but I’ve been seeing more people sharing their experiences online, and close friends opening up about it.

I wonder if many of us would be facing such realizations so late in life if we’d been taught proper hormonal education, and there were structures in place to support a monthly cycle. Perennial patterns could’ve easily been visualized like seasons in lesson plans accompanying puberty. It’s how I’ve conceptualized my rhythms: PMS is my internal autumn, when my uterus lining sheds, along with my happy hormones, and everything feels eerie.

Western society isn’t structured around the month. In work, school, and everyday life, time seems tethered to the 24-day cycle of the sun. You’re expected to show up consistently every day of the work week, no matter what’s going on internally. The hormonal cycle of people assigned male at birth tends to follow a daily cycle, with testosterone rising in the morning and decreasing in the evening. It is uniquely challenging for people to meet these expectations when they’re going through major hormonal shifts. 

Don’t get me wrong, hustle culture isn’t a walk in the park for anyone, and hormonal dysregulation can occur for everyone, regardless of biological sex. It can be caused by things like stress, aging, and gender-affirming hormone therapy. If sex education included this information, we’d be better equipped to understand what’s happening in our brains and approach ourselves and others with care. We might be able to make more informed decisions around contraceptives and symptom management. I might feel comfortable communicating that I need space because I’m dealing with my luteal phase, and not worry about being seen as dramatic or lying, or reduced to the petulant, hysterical woman stereotype that’s been used historically to dismiss female biology. 

Many Indigenous cultures see menstruation as sacred and closely dictated by the moon. In some cultures, like the Anishinaabe, moon time (menstruation) offers a special connection to Grandmother Moon, who offers wisdom, balance, and healing. For many Nations, like the Cree, Ojibwe, and Inuit, moon time is a period of reflection, and taking a break from chores to relax and recharge. 

I can’t predict environmental stressors, but I finally feel like I have a grasp on my inner workings.

I try to plan things like workouts, social gatherings, and new projects for my internal spring. I’m also learning what foods to eat to support different phases, and seeing how my oddly specific cravings are often my body’s way of communicating the nutrients it needs. Like a bear preparing for hibernation, I expect to slow down during my luteal phase; doing bed yoga, getting a few extra hours of sleep, and not agreeing to a ton of social plans. I’m reframing mood swings through curiosity rather than judgement, using my moon time to reflect on what feelings I might have been suppressing for them to be unleashed so intensely when I removed my Mirena.

Syncing my lifestyle with a new internal timeframe has helped me feel more present and trust my intuition. Even if my feelings go haywire for half the month, it helps to know I’m not alone and noticing patterns within me brings a sense of clarity. It’s like my body has been trying to communicate with me, and finally, I’m learning its language.

Renaissance Coffee celebrates 30 years of great coffee

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Peak Web
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PHOTO: Ali Imran / The Peak

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

This February marks the 30 year anniversary of Renaissance Coffee, SFU’s hub of coffee, food, and connection. Since its beginnings in 1996 as a small coffee stand, owner Parminder Singh Parhar has strived for one thing: to make a great cup of coffee. Over the years, himself, his wife, Kamaljit Parhar, and the hardworking Renaissance team achieved something much more significant: they became a cornerstone of the SFU community. From first-year students to long-term professors, there likely isn’t a soul who hasn’t seen or frequented the beloved café located in the AQ. To mark their 30 years in the community, the Renaissance team hosted a raffle event and a cake-cutting ceremony on February 25. The Peak spoke to Parminder — owner, manager, barista, and janitor (his words!) — to learn more about Renaissance over the years. 

Parhar’s initial vision for Renaissance Coffee: “This is where great minds will sit together and have a meeting to come up with a great idea.” Over time, this goal became a reality and led to the establishment and space we know and love today. With a little help from their friends, their community impact deepened. Parminder and Kamaljit established the Renaissance Coffee Bursary in 2006, supporting students with a rich volunteer history who were in financial need. Following this bursary, they created The Parminder and Kamaljit Parhar Athletic Entrance Award, and The Parminder and Kamaljit Parhar Bursary for Indigenous Students. Parhar gratefully said that these awards would never exist without the effort of the many brilliant friends who contributed to this achievement. 

Parhar passed on his gratitude to the community they serve for their lasting support and loyalty.

“The community makes our job so much easier, day in and day out. And they see it firsthand, how hard we work. But they reward us with their presence. They reward us with the comments [about] how good the food is, how good our drinks are.”

 — Parminder Parhar

The loyalty of their clientele does not go unnoticed, either. He reflected that he sees people walk to Renaissance daily from further locations on campus, like the Beedie School of Business, for the sole purpose of getting a drink from Renaissance. “Now you have to fulfill that responsibility of producing a good product so that it is worth their time,” he said. 

It seems to me that Renaissance Coffee is based on several core values that can be credited for their lasting success at SFU. They are consistently open, from early morning classes to late-night study sessions to reading break. During 2020, following the closure of SFU campuses due to COVID-19, the café reopened in September with safety protocols in place. They remained open until classes were back on campus in fall 2021. They provide quality, local ingredients for their food and drinks, like their coffee beans roasted locally in Abbotsford. They take the time to bake their goods in-house, and make most of their food on-site. Most of all, they work hard every day to provide quality service and love in every cup. Personally, I know that an iced matcha or a latte at Renaissance has often made the difference between a bad day and a good day. 

Parhar had some inspiring words to leave with those of us who need to hear it. “It doesn’t matter what you do in life. You just have to stay focused, and don’t worry about the noise and some temporary failures and all that stuff. So just keep on.” 

Thank you, Renaissance team, for 30 years of service to the SFU community, and here’s to many more!

An evening with slowcry brings company to fight the winter blues

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Peak Web
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A photo of a promotional sticker from slowcry that says “Quite Honking, I’m Crying and probably listening to slowcry”
PHOTO: Noeka Nimmervoll / The Peak

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

Wintertime always brings a heavy feeling in my life; the cold weather and shorter days cause me to question if I’m on the right path, and if my efforts will ever amass into the dreamed life of success and fulfillment. It may not bring up this feeling in others, but I feel comforted knowing I’m not alone in my winter blues. An evening at Green Auto, a local music venue on Pandora St. and Victoria Drive, proved just that. On February 19, the venue showcased performances from Benzonn, Riun Garner, and slowcry, three slowcore local bands and performers.

Music lovers, fans, and friends filled the crowd all there to melt in the music and find some respite from the winter night.

I talked to Nathan Chiu, bassist and lead singer of slowcry, and Jamal Coykendall, guitarist and background vocalist, for more information. 

slowcry’s performance at Green Auto was their first headline show as a band, and spoke to their commitment to Vancouver’s underground music subculture. They arranged the show with the venue and got several performers together. Despite the preconception that Vancouver has a cliquey music scene that makes it difficult to launch a music career, Coykendall thinks differently. He said, “There’s so much great talent here. And even though it is kind of tight-knit, there’s just so much opportunity and potential in Vancouver.” Chiu added, “There’s also this beautiful subculture [within the scene] that’s very much more open,” and pointed out that people often don’t see this perspective due to the difficulty of breaking into the underground scene.  

To slowcry, it seems that part of the appeal of underground venues is the DIY aesthetic of said venues. According to Chiu, the human urge to engage in creative and artistic acts drives the success of these performances. “People are really drawn to that [DIY mindset] because things right now are more censored than ever . . . and art is not really scratching the human itch,” shared Chiu. He said that people are paying more attention to indie artists who perform from their bedrooms, attributing this attention to people pushing against the disconnect that is prevalent in modern society. These performances attract photographers, artists, and dancers alike, making it a rich place for networking and human connection. 

The band’s sound is well suited for the wintertime, mixing its observational storytelling with a raw, grungy, and emotional sound. “slowcry definitely shines through in the winter,” said Coykendall. Benzonn, the first band of the night, performed a head-bob-inducing shoegaze set that mixed technical talent with raw performance, ending in a messy mosh pit. The next performer, Riun Garner, sang sweet and slow songs for all the indie boys tucked away in the crowd, and left the crowd wanting more. slowcry performed upbeat, grungy songs that put a smile on everyone’s face as they grooved. In the middle of slowcry’s set, Chiu said to the crowd, “If you’ve been sad this winter, you’re not alone.” It was hard to imagine a cheery guy like that being sad, but it goes to show that we are all human. We are all getting through winter the same way — one day at a time. Often alone, but when we can, we do it together.

“What should be heard becomes seen”

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Peak Web
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A photo of Laurie Landry with one of her artwork in the background
PHOTO: Courtesy of Aly Laube

By: Maya Barillas Mohan, Staff Writer

Vancouver-based artist Laurie Landry’s exhibition hosts a collection of oil paintings that command attention. Noted on her website, “Her expressive paintings explore themes of identity, embodiment, and non-verbal communication, deeply informed by her lived experience as a Deaf woman raised orally in a society that privileges spoken language.” In an exclusive interview with The Peak, Landry talks about her work in the gallery All the Hands You Cannot See and what it communicates. 

Landry states her central question, “Am I being seen?” and orbits her work around the solution of this query. Large paintings “insist on presence,” while small paintings require “care and attention.” The range of sizes enlists a catalogue of strategies for visibility because “that question doesn’t have a simple answer when you exist in a world that systematically overlooks you.” 

Landry’s tactile painting style encourages viewers to have an “embodied, physical” connection to her work. She wants them to “feel her presence through evidence of her hand, movements, and insistence on taking up space.” The visible brushstrokes demonstrate the “physical gesture of making,” to translate her sensory contact; “in some ways, all three senses are collapsed into one experience.” As a Deaf person, she accesses spoken information visually through lip reading and then translates it to canvas through visible strokes. This tactile information is communicated to the viewer by sight: “What should be heard becomes seen, and what was touched becomes seen.” For Landry, being seen is more than being glanced at; it’s being “truly attended to.” She reports that her work isn’t something to be “passively consumed,” but engaged and reckoned with.

Landry believes that “everyone has a story to share,” and it is worth being heard despite an ableist assumption that it’s not.

So many disabled people ask themselves her central question, “Am I being seen?” She urges minorities to begin making art, even against internal fears. “We have something valuable: perspectives that challenge, complicate, and expand what art can be and who it is for.” 

Landry’s paintings are tethered to her lived experience. “I read lips because I can’t rely on hearing alone. I navigate spaces that weren’t designed for me. I experience being overlooked, ignored, treated as an afterthought. All of that is in the paintings.” There is no filter between Landry and her art but she elaborates that her work is larger than just herself — it’s about demanding visibility for systematically overlooked Deaf and disabled people.

Continuing the largeness of “disability [as] a global experience,” Landry reflects on how interpretations of her work change as it tours Canada, France, and Korea. Her art doesn’t transcend boundaries, but rather “invites conversation across them.” Her central question is a “human question about connection,” not just for disabled people with her specific experience. 

When asked about what she learned about herself or the audience through her exhibition, Landry says that she discovered “curiosity about the world.” She describes this as a “willingness to engage with perspectives different from your own,” which “creates real understanding across all kinds of boundaries.” Through the exhibition her brush strokes proclaim: “I was here. I made this. You cannot overlook me.”

You can visit the exhibition at August Studios, 1320 East Pender Street, until March 8. 

The gallery is open on Wednesday, Thursday, and Sunday from 12:00–6:00 p.m., Friday and Saturday from 12:00–8:00 p.m., closed Monday and Tuesday.

Underrated and delectable films for foodies

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Peak Web
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An illustration of two chefs having a cooking contest side by side, separated by a green barrier
ILLUSTRATION: Cassandra Nguyen / The Peak

By: Heidi Kwok, Staff Writer

Whenever I’m craving a midnight snack and confronted with a disappointingly empty fridge, I find myself inevitably revisiting some of my favourite food-centred films to temporarily staunch my appetite. This would, however, prove to be a fatal mistake, as I quickly become engrossed in the electrifyingly fast-paced cooking scenes, followed by the rumbling in my stomach as dozens of mouthwatering delicacies grace my screen. So, by popular demand, here are my top three films for my fellow foodies. A warning in advance: please do not watch these movies on an empty stomach, or you will end up sad like me. 

No Reservations (2007) dir. Scott Hicks

The romantic comedy/drama follows Catherine Zeta Jones as Kate, a talented but intimidating head chef of a fine-dining restaurant in New York City’s Lower Manhattan. Kate is terrible at relationships but knows her way around recipes and kitchens, like the back of her hand. Forced to see a therapist by her boss, she would rather reveal the best ways to perfectly cook a quail — broiled, poached, or preferably roasted to a slight touch of pink, and accompanied with a truffle sauce — then discuss her feelings. Her predictable life is upended when her sister is involved in a fatal car accident. Trapped in a whirlwind of grief, the unexpected guardianship of her surviving niece, and the entrance of Nick, the newly hired, Pavarotti opera-loving, sous chef, who is determined to learn the secret of Kate’s saffron sauce, Kate is forced to confront that life is not a perfect recipe. 

 

The Hundred-Foot Journey (2014) dir. Lasse Hallström

Hassan Kadam is a young cook with a natural-born gift for recognizing the beauty of ingredients. He trained under the tutelage of his mother in Mumbai, India, before she was murdered. Displaced and burdened with heartbreak, the Kadam family builds a new life in Europe, eventually settling in a small but picturesque French village after a chance accident. Papa Kadam, the family’s patriarch, decides to introduce mouthwatering Indian dishes like tandoori, chicken masala, saag aloo, and more, to the rigid, escargot and ratatouille-obsessed, French community. What culminates is a clash of cultures: a fierce, but oftentimes hilarious, rivalry between the newly established Maison Mumbai, and the one-Michelin star classic French establishment a hundred feet across the street. Hassan’s commitment to his cultural food traditions, his mother’s legacy, and familial duty soon become entangled and challenged when he becomes attracted to French cooking and ingredients.

 

Toast (2010) dir. S.J. Clarkson

A truly underrated gem, Toast is based on the true childhood story of renowned British chef and food writer, Nigel Slater. Nigel’s passion for food was certainly not inherited from his parents, who insist on only eating food that comes out of a can. Up to that point, Nigel confessed that he’s only ever had vegetables that have been preserved in aluminium cylinders. A futile attempt, from a then nine years-old Nigel, to make spaghetti bolognese ends in disaster as Mr. and Mrs. Slater refuse to indulge in such an unfamiliar dish, to which the latter then suggests having toast for dinner instead. Soon, Nigel’s mother falls ill, leaving him alone with his ill-tempered father (I swear the family-member-dying-trope is just a coincidence). Nigel must then reckon with a child’s grief of losing his mother, just as Mrs. Potter enters the scene, seducing Mr. Slater with her cheeky antics and signature lemon meringue pies. The film’s cinematography is whimsical, capturing the nostalgia of the ‘60s in warm, bright pops of colour that elevate the delectability of the savoury dishes and baked goodies featured on screen, including sponge cakes, apple tarts, pork pies, and more, even somehow successfully making the disgusting jello-salads of the 20th century appear delicious.

The rivalry between The Ubyssey and The Peak

By
Peak Web
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0
Two humour editors stand next to a microwave with spaghetti spilled all over the inside.
PHOTO: Zainab Salam / The Peak

By: Mason Mattu, Humour Editor

A few weeks ago, The Peak’s staff attended NASH, Canada’s National Student Journalism Conference. While my colleagues went into this weekend with professional development in mind — I had one goal and one goal only. To rid The Ubyssey of their humour editor.

Let me back up and tell you where this beef began. For three weeks leading up to NASH, I had been receiving mysterious messages on my cell phone from a random number with a Vancouver area code. All I was receiving were memes of Shrek and John Pork. One message was a video of someone kicking dirt all over a copy of The Peak flipped to the Humour section. I gasped. What kind of monster would do something like that? I gasped again. I had done the same thing to a copy of The Ubyssey a week before . . . Only a fellow humour editor could have done that. It was time for revenge. A quick email to the previous humour editor from The Ubyssey gave me an unlikely ally (apparently there’s some unresolved shit between them) — someone who hated the enshittification (literally) of the section. 

I looked around on the first day to see my fellow student journalists from across the country equipped with notebooks and copies of their papers to exchange. What losers. Me? I was wearing a bulletproof vest, a clown nose, and a microwave popcorn bag on my left arm. In my ears rang the tune of “Roar” by Katy Perry. No . . . I’m not weird. It was all part of the plan. 

“How many of you are journalists?” Andrew Mrozowski, president of Canadian University Press, posed during the opening ceremony. Everyone’s hands shot into the air except for two people. Me and this one person with googly eyes on her nose. She and I locked eyes. I had secured my target. 

Over the next few days, I pretended to take notes during workshops on topics such as “investigative journalism” and “how to kick your student union in the ass with it.” Yawn . . . until the moment I had been waiting for had come. The humour editor roundtable. I had a plan to eliminate the editor there and then, but we instead ended up joining forces against an anti-humour dude who was moderating the panel. In the most dire circumstances, sometimes our enemies become friends. We answered questions together, rebutted against the slander this guy was spewing, and even shared a few laughs. I had to remember my task. There was no room for distractions.  

As my counterpart and I walked the halls of Capilano, I realized that I had caught her in a moment of weakness. She had been taunting me with those videos, but perhaps she was a changed woman. I shook my head and blasted “Roar.” It was time to get revenge for my people. To establish dominance over the clearly inferior humour section. 

The previous humour editor was stationed by a roughly used microwave in a building. It was now or never. I ran over and opened the microwave, hoping that the soul of the humour editor would be sucked into the microwave. And so it did. The Ubyssey’s humour editor was pulled towards the stench and began laughing like she saw one of my totally funny humour pieces. She got sucked into the microwave portal and transformed into the remnants of spaghetti left in an old microwave. 

I watched in horror as the spaghetti exited the microwave, forming the blob of a human. “You fool. You can’t kill humour,” my Ubyssey colleague spat at me. It was just then that another Shrek meme arrived to my phone. Her and I both looked at each other confused. If she was standing right in front of me . . . who was sending the Shrek meme?

“How many of you are journalists?” Mrozowski asked the students. None of the crowd raised their hands. They were instead generating memes . . . I started receiving a million texts from the same number I thought was from The Ubyssey. It was then that my enemy and I realized that a rivalry had emerged. We will have to work together to defeat them. 

Blackness is not a monolith

By
Peak Web
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0
A photo of a kid showing the pages of a kids book to another kid.
PHOTO: IIONA VIRGIN / Unsplash

By: Noeka Nimmervoll, Staff Writer

In Canadian media, when Black individuals are celebrated, their cultural identity is simplified under this single social label, seemingly for the convenience and comfort of other Canadians. The author Esi Edugyan explained to The Tyee that “ideas of what it meant to be a Black person were these kinds of easily digested, maybe monotone depictions of Black characters on downgrade TV shows.”   

It’s time to get more specific about the unique backgrounds that make the Black community so diverse. For true celebration of Black excellence, the unique experiences and identities of Black individuals must be recognized and understood. 

Black is a term used in countries with Black diaspora communities, which often comprise many identities. In many families, the term Black is not used until Western influence and racial differentiation set in; before, they identify with terms such as Ethiopian, Algerian, and Nigerian. This westernization of Blackness seems to operate from the false concept of “white superiority,” both past and present. Historically, Black people in America have experienced heavy stereotyping and profiling that come from a lack of respect within a Eurocentric society, felt both individually and systemically. Creating the idea of a singular Black culture, and with it, a singular idea of a Black person, allows for prejudice and fearmongering to grow in a society. This is not to invalidate the experience and identity of those who are most aligned with being Black. 

Yet, the idea for a singular culture seems to be used for the comfort and simplicity of the rest of the population at the expense of a true acknowledgement of Black histories and experiences. Of course, it reflects the limited Black histories that are taught in BC about a multicultural community that comprises only 1% of BC. Often, because of this lack of Black population and historical education, Black children unfairly become the only representation of Black culture in their school settings, and face unique challenges in representing a falsely monolithic identity alone. It’s not their responsibility to be an emblem of Black culture — they should be allowed to just be kids. 

Identities like Black Canadian, Black Indigenous, and Caribbean Canadian are just a few of the identities that exist in Canada under the umbrella term of Blackness, displaying the many existing intersectional identities.

Intersectionality is a sociopolitical framework that points to the interconnected nature of social categories, wherein the experience of a Black Indigenous woman is not simply the addition of these separate experiences of being Black, Indigenous, and a woman. It provides language to talk about the unique experiences and oppressions that someone who exists at the intersection of these identities experiences. 

Instead of assuming a person is one thing or another, acknowledge their history. Your colleague could identify as Kenyan, Black, or both. Most importantly, the agency of divulging one’s identity should belong to the speaker. The norm should be a Black person sharing their unique story, if they feel like they want to. When you meet someone, no matter their race, have them tell you what their identity is and what they prefer to be called. 

This overarching diversity should be precisely what is celebrated during Black History Month and beyond, and should be a key part of the story when celebrating Black identities in BC.

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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