Warning: spoilers ahead.

Interviews have been edited for clarity and conciseness. 

On Wednesday, March 26, 2026, the Strand of the Night Theatre’s production of The Seagull, by Anton Chekhov, opened in Moyse Hall. The following evening, I had the opportunity to attend the show and interview the cast; as well as Henry Kemeny-Wodlinger, director and founder of Strand of the Night Theatre. Kemeny-Wodlinger established the theatre company in 2022 to provide young, emerging artists with a platform.

The Seagull takes place at the Sorin estate, where family and friends, many of whom are artists, gather every summer. Over time,  scenes of the quotidian reveal a set of complex relationships and struggles that pose disconcerting questions about what it means to be an artist and a human being. 

“This play, not to be too reductive, is very much about unhappy people,” I began. Kemeny-Wodlinger leaned back and laughed, “But there’s also very much a comedic element to it. So I was wondering how you balance these seemingly contradictory points?”

“The way that Chekhov does unhappy people: they’re very ridiculous. They’re very, very serious about everything they say, and there’s so much passion in everything they say,” replied Kemeny-Wodlinger. He added that on opening night, the audience laughed more than he thought they would at the uncomfortable moments, perhaps purely out of discomfort. Kemeny-Wodlinger elaborated, “[Chekhov] tears down those traditional, uncomfortable or cathartic places. And if it’s an uncomfortable moment, it’s really uncomfortable because there’s a kind of raw violence happening.”

When asked how he got involved in this particular production, Kemeny-Wodlinger recounted his experience with The Seagull, which he had seen for the first time in 2023: “It was the first play that I ever saw where I felt like the characters were saying things that I thought sometimes […] A lot of the characters were artists who were about to go out into the world, about to start making art, and that really connected with me because I feel I’m at the same stage myself. From there, I got really interested in this specific translation of the play [by Simon Stephens].”

As a native Russian speaker who has read the original non-translated text, I was curious about the contemporary nature of the chosen translation. Kemeny-Wodlinger spoke on his choice: “It’s a modern translation set out of time. It’s not really in the original late 19th century, and it’s not extremely modern […] it’s very alive, and it strips away all of the place.” Besides the mention of horses and carriages in Act 2 and Act 4, the play was successful in creating an immersive, timeless setting.

“Some characters dress like they’re from the 80s. Some of them dress like they’re Gen Z. It’s a bit all over the place. And somehow, I feel like it comes together,” said Kemeny-Wodlinger, adding that in working with the costume designer, Sylvia Dai, “there was a certain time period that was the most effective for conveying a character.” This primary focus on the “aesthetic” is evident in Irina’s 50s/60s colorful outfits which are, in my mind, somewhat reminiscent of Emily Gilmore; as well as in Marcia’s 80s leather jacket and emo-inspired look, which ties into the original text’s description of her wearing all black due to her unrequited affection for Konstantin — the protagonist — and detachment from her father Leo (Luca McAndrew). 

What I found especially striking about the costumes was how often they changed.

“There’s 36 costumes in the show, one for each character in each act,” says Kemeny-Wodlinger. In Act 2, the characters all either shed layers of their Act 1 attire or put on lighter summer outfits, corresponding to more emotionally vulnerable scenes where the characters remove some of their mental armor. The one exception is Konstantin (Kit Carleton), a young, struggling playwright who is in love with Nina (Noa De Gasperis), the neighbor who has a difficult home life and dreams of being an actress. Konstantin wears the same outfit for the first three acts of the play: jeans and a trench coat. Perhaps this stagnant wardrobe reflects Konstantin’s inability to adjust his perspectives on life and art until years have passed, when Act 4 is set.

Meanwhile, Nina’s clothes become darker and less carefree as the story and her illicit relationship with Boris (Sam Snyder) — a writer in his forties who is in a relationship with Irina (Celeste Gunnell-Joyce) — progress: she begins with her hair down — clad in delicate white dresses, transitions to a blue and white checkered frock, and finally, in Act 4, dons a black turtleneck, jeans, sneakers, and a trenchcoat, with her hair up in a ponytail. Interestingly, the trenchcoat she wears is Konstantin’s, which, according to the script, he has worn “for the last three years.” Whether this wardrobe choice is meant to imply that Konstantin gave his jacket to her, she took it, or that its meaning is more symbolic of how her mindset has shifted to reflect his more cynical one is not entirely clear. Additionally, the modern sneakers Nina wears hint at a shift away from a stereotypically feminine passivity reflected in her dresses, as she takes charge of her life.

Incidentally, the costumes were certainly not reflective of late 19th-century Russia. The modernization of the text, and the anglicization of character names made the production inherently Chekhovian. Historical context and setting matter quite little in Chekhov’s plays, where the universality of the human experience, and especially human suffering, is foregrounded.

This production excelled at bringing that humanity to each scene and character. Irina, for instance, is a famous middle-aged actress and a blatant egotist. Obsessed with retaining her beautiful, youthful image and celebrity, she constantly sabotages her relationship with her son, Konstantin. While her character is amusing, one would assume by these characteristics that she is villainous; yet, Gunnell-Joyce’s Irina is anything but. There are but a few scenes where Irina explicitly expresses vulnerability or affection, such as when she begs Boris not to leave her for Nina or when she bandages Konstantin’s injured head. Nevertheless, these moments are some of the most powerful. Perhaps even more impactful is how the insecurity and humanity displayed in these scenes are subtly expressed in Irina’s character throughout the play. Even though I was familiar with the characters beforehand, I was still greatly impressed by how difficult it was to hate Gunnell-Joyce’s Irina.

While the play could have opened with a bit more energy, it quickly picked up with Carleton’s powerful opening dialogue. Many characters have striking dialogue, made even more compelling by the actors’ choices. One particularly memorable moment was Boris and Nina’s conversation in Act 2, where, as Kemeny-Wodlinger says, “they each exchange very vulnerable monologues about what they want out of life and their fears.” Boris opens up about his obsessive-compulsive behavior, which taints his work. This neuroticism is brought to life on stage through the physicality of Snyder’s performance. Snyder explained what drew him to this character: “He’s a bit of a tough guy to figure out. He goes through a lot of twists and turns, and there’s some complexity there.”

Shea McDonnell, who plays Hugo, shared a similar sentiment in navigating the intricacies of his character. While McDonnell described Hugo as “a well-established doctor” who displays “arrogance” and “very high self-esteem,” he clarified that Hugo is also “not fully secure inside, [and] could be very anxious about certain things.” This insecurity was most openly displayed in McDonnell’s scenes with Pauline, Marcia’s mother (Naomi Decker). Unhappily married to the estate manager Leo, Pauline has a secret affair with Hugo. McDonnell elaborated on this dynamic: “that really is where those cracks begin to show in his relationship, because he’s a very strait-laced, kind of very clinical person, but his big vice is really sex, and […] every time that she tries to make it more serious, he shuts it down and gets really nervous.” At the end of Act 1, McDonnell also brought this vulnerability to the surface when comforting Marcia (Ellie Mota). 

Even Peter (Griphon Hobby-Ivanovici), the elderly owner of the estate and brother of Irina, whose main role seems to be comic relief, is anything but two-dimensional. As he grapples with old age and regret, I could not help being touched when Hobby-Ivanovici wistfully delivered the line: “I want to live.”

While this is a dialogue-driven play, especially given that Chekhov provided minimal stage directions, some of the most powerful moments are found in its silences. Boris and Nina share multiple searing stares: the first when they initially meet and shake hands for notably longer than necessary; and again in Act 2, standing at opposite ends of the stage after Boris jokingly mocks her. Additionally, Nina gazes out beyond the audience numerous times: in Act 2, for instance, she smiles off into the distance. 

Perhaps most notably, the play is bookended by parallel silent moments. As the play begins, the entire cast walks down the aisles. They freeze in place, spaced out along the rows of seats, and look around at the audience, breaking the fourth wall. Similarly, when Hugo utters the last words of the play, the entire cast, sitting around the dining table on stage, turns their heads to look beyond the audience, falling motionless. This ending’s power is strengthened by the parallel nature of the scene, and its impact is solidified by the meta-quality that rearticulates the play’s themes.

The self-referential aspect of The Seagull is also delved into through the play’s exploration of the human desire to narrativize “disparate events,” as stated in the media release, as well as each of the characters’ unique relationships with art. 

When asked where he stands in relation to the different ideas about art offered in the play, Kemeny-Wodlinger answered that he was not entirely certain, but that he agreed with Konstantin’s sentiment at the end of the play: “I often try to mimic a certain genre or a certain form, but what’s the most powerful to me is something that comes from just deep within that. It just naturally flows out of you as an artist.”

Despite addressing these rather abstract concepts, the production manages to keep the play rooted in a sort of ambiguous reality. The set, designed by Claire Labrecque, plays a big part in this. Vines line the front of the stage, and patches of vegetation sit stage-left up front and stage-right in the back. My personal favorite feature of the set is the plastic pink flamingo that appears amidst the plants at the start of Act 2. The real world seeps in again during Act 4, when rays of sunlight shine through the window of the door Nina enters from stage-left. Though some scenes are set indoors, this natural element remains ever present, perhaps calling on a connection between literal nature and human nature.

Another fascinating element of the set is the shrinking of the stage as the temporary back wall is pushed forward with each act. This choice increasingly adds tension to each subsequent scene while also seeming to signify the claustrophobic oppression many characters experience in the Sorin estate.

The background noise, designed by Kyla Resendes, also plays a big role in the set design. The sounds of unintelligible muttering, chirping birds, running water, and instrumental melodies are interspersed throughout the production; sometimes helping to physically place the characters, sometimes intensifying emotional scenes. 

Another memorable auditory feature of the play was the overlapping conversations heard while characters moved off stage or out of view. In Act 2, the group is heard leaving the Sorin estate, their voices dissipating as they walk further from the stage; and in Act 4, the family is heard once again, eating and laughing in an unseen room stage-right while Konstantin and Nina reunite. The latter scene creates a stark contrast between the happy obliviousness of the off-stage dinner and the emotional turmoil on-stage. Nina’s separation from the bliss beyond the wall is further emphasized when De Gasperis presses her tear-stained face against the door separating her from the meal and Boris, who left her disillusioned but still lovestruck after ending their affair.

From set design and costumes to stage directions and dialogue, the well-thought-out intricacies of the Strand of the Night Theatre’s production of The Seagull combined to create a profound exploration of the human psyche.

The post The Seagull: An Automorphic Play About Art and Humanity appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Sciences/Applied Sciences: Jennifer Sidey-Gibbons 

Originally from Calgary, Alberta, Canadian Space Agency (CA) astronaut Jennifer, “Jenni” Sidey-Gibbons graduated from McGill with honours in mechanical engineering with the class of 2011. She went on to earn a PhD in engineering from the University of Cambridge where she then became an assistant professor. Subsequently, she was selected by the CA as the third-ever woman to join the ranks of their astronaut candidates, completing her training in 2020. Currently, she is a backup crew member on the Artemis II lunar flyby mission. Gibbons has also acted as ground communicator on a number of International Space Station spacewalks and has mentored astronaut candidates. 

Fine Arts: Sheree Spencer 

Born in Toronto to parents of Barbadian descent, stage director and producer Sheree Spencer, attended McGill’s Schulich School of Music with a minor in Drama Performance from the Faculty of Arts. After graduating with her BA in 2012, she freelanced as a stage performer, featured in productions at the Vancouver Opera and the Toronto Fringe Festival. She also went on to earn accolades such as TD Emerging Producer of Toronto Fringe 2016 as well as international recognition for her direction of the opera Plaything: Spencer has since relocated to New York to take up the position of a Mellon Producing Fellow with Beth Morrison Projects, where she continues to produce and direct new works. 

Politics & Activism: Emmanuella Lambropoulos 

Sitting one row from the back and four seats in from the aisle in the House of Commons chamber, Emmanuella Lambropoulos has represented the constituency of Saint-Laurent since 2017. Growing up in Saint-Laurent’s Greek community, she graduated from McGill University in 2013 and was president of the university’s Hellenic Students’ Association. She then moved on to a short career in education, working in the local Saint-Laurent school district. Having volunteered with Stephane Dion, who represented Saint-Laurent from 1996 to 2017, Lambropoulos reported that she’s always been interested in politics. After canvassing door-to-door every day for weeks, she won the Liberal nomination and ultimately a seat in an upset over a seasoned provincial politician, Yolande James. 

Sports: Sylvia Sweeney 

An induction to the McGill Athletics Hall of Fame in 2021 is only the latest accolade in Sylvia Sweeney’s decorated basketball career: Not only playing for McGill, Concordia, and Laurentian, she joined the Canadian national team in 1974 and played in two Olympic games. As a native Montrealer, she studied classical piano performance at McGill University from 1973 to 1975. In 2017, she was appointed a Member of the Order of Canada, the highest honour a civilian can receive. In 1994, Sweeney was inducted into the Canadian Basketball Hall of Fame. Every year since then, the Hall recognizes a female university player with the Sylvia Sweeney award for outstanding achievement on and off the court. After her time in basketball, she began a second career in television, commenting on sports and current affairs and then moving into production. Passionate across disciplines, Sweeney also founded the international ArtsGames competition to celebrate the arts. 

Media: Allya Davidson 

Amidst an ever-evolving media landscape, Emmy-winning journalist and producer Allya Davidson, an alumna of The McGill Daily, still believes in the power of investigative reporting. Graduating from McGill in 2009 with a degree in cultural studies and world religions, the Mississauga-born Davidson earned a master’s in broadcast journalism from the City St George’s, University of London. She went on to produce documentaries for global networks such as VICE, PBS Frontline, and ABC Australia. Davidson is now the first Black executive producer of CBC’s The Fifth Estate, a weekly program that airs investigative documentaries on Canadian and international issues. Davidson also mentors young BIPOC journalists through the Canadian Association of Journalists. Trail-blazing and accomplished, Davidson points to her time at McGill as foundational: “At McGill I learned to live, work with and understand people who were from all over the world, from different backgrounds and religions. I had always been a nerd interested in the world around me, and McGill proved that there were and are thousands of people like me.” 

Business: Ritika Dutt 

Recognized by Forbes in their 2020 30 Under 30 list for Law & Policy, Ritika Dutt co-founded Botler AI in 2017 to help victims of sexual harassment better understand their rights. Born in India and raised in Hong Kong and Singapore, Dutt moved to Montreal to attend McGill and graduated in 2013. Soon after, an experience with a stalker left her scared and confused. “The more I researched about sexual harassment,” Dutt told McGill News, “I realized there were many women, and men, like me, who didn’t know their legal rights in these situations.” Partly inspired by her circumstances and the rise of the #MeToo movement, Dutt co-created Botler AI, which analyzes user reports for free and predicts whether they constitute sexual harassment. It also indicates which laws may have been broken and generates a report that can be sent to the respective authorities. In 2021, the Canadian government invested in Botler to help produce the Pan-Canadian Triage System for Sexual Harassment, Misconduct & Violence. Relaying her belief to CTV News that there is an “urgent, vital need for an easy, accessible solution that empowers individuals to seek justice on their own terms,” Dutt continues to lead Botler as its CEO.

The post Spotlighting Powerful McGill Alumnae appeared first on The McGill Daily.

This interview has been edited for clarity and conciseness. 

The McGill Daily (MD): After graduating from McGill and entering the workforce, you didn’t originally anticipate becoming a journalist. In what ways did your education at McGill and prior experience in economic research prepare you to become a journalist?

Luca Léry Moffat (LLM): To maybe give you a bit of background, in my third or fourth year, I got really into economics. I was doing a different major, did ECON 416 that was about topics in economic development, and sort of fell in love with it and decided to switch to the honours program. By the end of my third year, going into my fourth year, I was pretty set on applying for economic research. As I said in the lecture, I applied to a bunch of different pre-docs; most of which were very academic. 

Then, of course, I went on to get this job at a think tank. It was a kind of pre-doc as a research analyst, but it was at a think tank, so [it was] less academically focused. Policy is a bit different from academia. It’s more about being a messenger between academia and policymakers. So, as an economist, I was reading lots of academic stuff, policy papers, and then trying to communicate it clearly to another audience. 

I think it was actually during my first job when I picked up a lot of the skills that I needed in journalism: the ability to read a lot, synthesize that information, spin a story, figure out what the most important story is, and what the key messages you want to get across are. Something else I got from my first job was a network. So, I started building a network in Brussels, and those people have become invaluable in [my] pivoting to journalism because being a journalist is basically knowing lots of people and getting them to tell you stuff. I mean, that’s literally all it is – anyone could do it. 

I would say that one thing that I got from McGill in the economics program was the ability to use data. I think that has given me a real edge in my journalistic career because not many people can make a graph. Data visualization is something which journalism is really shifting towards. People don’t have [long] attention spans anymore, so we like to see pretty graphs and pictures while scrolling through these interactive articles. The ability to code and knowing how to use an Excel spreadsheet was very attractive to prospective employers. I’d say that’s something I got from McGill which really helped me. 

MD: You mentioned that you were also a graduate of POLI 331. With regards to knowledge concerning Ukraine, Russia, and their histories, what piqued your interest in Eastern European affairs during your undergraduate degree or even when working in economic research? 

LLM: I was talking to Professor Popova about this – I loved my time at McGill. I had amazing professors, learned so much, and got a really good quality of education. Having said that, I feel as though I was taught economics and Russian both quite badly. I don’t think that’s McGill’s fault, I think that’s just education in the West. 

On the economic side, you learn all of this economic theory which comes from the 1970s and 80s. But you don’t really look at finance at all even though finance has, over the last 40-50 years, become such a crucial part of the economic system. International financial flows have real ramifications for the economy, whereas that’s not integrated into a lot of the economic models that we study. On the Russian side, we were studying all of this literature without looking at it through the lens of colonialism. I think in the West, the idea that Russia is an empire is sort of a bit of an odd one when you’re first confronted with it. But actually, it’s one of the last standing empires from this massive period of colonialism. The US still exists, but many of the others have kind of disintegrated, or are now a shell of their former selves. I would study Russian literature and I remember studying, for example, A Hero of Our Time by [Mikhail] Lermontov, and at no point did I stop to consider, “Why is there this Russian guy in the Caucasus? What is he doing there?” Well, of course, it was part of this expansion of the Russian Empire. So, that’s just something which I’ve sort of reflected on since leaving McGill. 

In terms of what piques my interest in Eastern European affairs, I think it was classes like POLI 331 or HIST 226, which were about the Balkans, Greece, and Turkey throughout the 20th century. What I found so interesting about it was how it’s really complicated – borders changed all the time throughout the 20th century, and people moved. After World War I, borders moved and people stayed where they were. After World War II, borders pretty much stayed where they were and people moved. There’s so much packed into European history, which is really difficult to unearth because it’s complicated. The Russian, poli-sci, and history classes I took at McGill started to shed a light on that, or even just scratched the surface of those really complicated events. And it left me hungry for more. 

MD: During the Zoom call, you mentioned that you often feel conflicted as the journalistic field often emphasizes objectivity and neutrality, while the reporting you do and the publication you work for are staunchly supportive of Ukraine’s sovereignty. How do you navigate this conflict and adhere to journalistic integrity while fighting for a cause you feel so strongly about?

LLM: I find no trouble navigating it whatsoever because I think many things can be true at the same time. I’m staunchly supportive of Ukraine. I believe the facts clearly show that Ukraine is in a war for its own existence, that this is a war for two competing visions of society: one is dictatorship, and one is democracy and liberal values, and I am more partial to the latter. 

At the same time, I believe that Ukraine has a lot of work to do when it comes to implementing certain reforms. Some articles I’ve written have been sharply critical of the government. In other articles, I have been less critical or even praised the government. I’m not writing op-eds. I’m a reporter, so I’m interviewing people, I’m putting in their quotes, and I’m telling the story. I [will] always try to tell a story that I believe is factually accurate and where I’ve quoted people in the way that they would want to be quoted. 

At the end of the day, Ukraine is fighting for a future where it’s a democracy and it has its own sovereignty. Freedom of the press is a key tenet of a democratic, rules-based, sovereign state. So I think as a reporter, it makes complete sense that I’m writing articles which [can be] more critical of the government.

MD: To my knowledge, you are proficient in Russian and currently learning Ukrainian. What has the process of learning the Ukrainian language been like for you, and what is it like to report for a primarily English-language newspaper when English is not the official language of Ukraine?

LLM: First of all, learning Russian [at McGill] was amazing because I had incredible professors. I have to shout out Maria Ivanova, I think she’s still there, as well as Daniel Pratt, and a few others. Having had a series of other language teachers since who weren’t so good, it made me appreciate how incredible [my McGill ones] were. At McGill, the quality of education in the Russian department was really phenomenal. I’m really nostalgic about it. 

The process of learning Ukrainian started when I arrived here on the 17th of April, exactly 11 months ago. When I first arrived, I figured that my Russian would be reasonably helpful, even though I understood that people were speaking less Russian nowadays because they’re being invaded by Russia and also wanting to put [the] Ukrainian [language] into the limelight. Kyiv used to be a very Russian-speaking city up until the full-scale invasion in 2022, but has [now] massively pivoted to Ukrainian. You still hear Russian around quite a lot, but out of respect I wanted to learn Ukrainian. For me, it was very clear that a lot of people didn’t want to be spoken to in Russian. As a way of just being respectful, I wanted to learn Ukrainian. 

What I think the most crucial element of learning any language is completely immersing yourself. It’s been very humbling because learning a language from scratch is not easy. Ukrainian is a very difficult language. It’s massively helped me to have such a good quality of education at McGill on the Russian side of things because they’re both Slavic languages. Even though they’re very different, lots of the grammar is the same, [and] lots of the endings are sort of similar. Not having to start from scratch on the grammar side has been really helpful. 

MD: How have you perceived reporting from journalists in Ukraine on the Russo-Ukrainian war to be different from reporting published by Western media? 

LLM: I’m thinking of a time when I went back to the UK last summer, and we had a big gathering [with] a bunch of McGill alumni. I brought back a bunch of caps with the Ukrainian flag on them to give to some friends. Someone said, “Oh, you’re the one who’s working as a journalist in Ukraine,” and made a joke about not being neutral [in the war] because of my friends who had these caps on. I think there is a desire amongst some reporters, and a desire in the public rhetoric of the West, to believe that this war is political and that you can be neutral in it. 

What was always clear to me but really crystallized when I arrived in Ukraine was that this war is happening because of Russia’s intent to erase Ukrainian statehood, erase the Ukrainian language, and to absorb Ukraine as part of Russia. Putin has some really peculiar historical fantasies which all mainstream historians reject entirely: that Ukraine isn’t a real place and that it’s the Bolsheviks’ fault that Ukraine exists. The reality is that Ukraine is a real place. It has people who really care about their country, [and] demonstrably so because there are 900,000 people in the army. There are hundreds of thousands who have been injured or have died defending their country. There are so many Ukrainian civil society activists who care about their language. You see Ukrainian flags everywhere. People have backpacks with Ukrainian ribbons. 

Ukrainian society is complicated. There are lots of different perspectives within the country. But I’m actually rather impressed by the homogeneity in supporting Ukraine, Land] not wanting [it| to be part of Russia, especially in a country that has a long history of entanglement with Russia. Given everything that I’ve just said, it’s pretty easy to define this war as a genocidal war because it is an attempt to erase a nation. And that is the definition of genocide. 

In the Western media, this is not always made explicit. I think it should be made explicit. This is essentially an anachronistic empire. If you know anything about history, you can see this [repeating]. I mean, it rings throughout the ages. If you look at recent history, you can see Georgia in 2008, which Russia invaded. You can see Crimea in 2014. You can see interference in Ukrainian elections in 2004 [and] 2005 (the Orange Revolution). 

Western media sometimes doesn’t always do a good job of portraying that. But for me, those are the facts and a journalist’s job is to report the facts. And it’s very difficult for me to see it from any other perspective. I love hearing other people’s views, even if I find them abhorrent sometimes. I really enjoy trying to understand where people come from. For me, it’s so clear that the facts are [that] this is an imperialistic, genocidal war.

The post Reporting in a Warzone appeared first on The McGill Daily.

On February 28, the US and Israel launched a join airstrike attack on Iran, killing many high-ranking government officials including Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei. Iran quickly retaliated in a series of missile and drone strikes against Israel and US allies in the region. The war has since turned into a chaotic global conflict; political leaders stand divided, the energy market has stalled, the Gulf states suffer damage from the unprecedented attack, and Trump speaks exclusively in contradictory terms about his next move.

Meanwhile, the Iranian government maintains a near- total internet blackout throughout the country, which renders it difficult to determine how the war is affecting Iranians on the inside of the conflict. The Daily was able to get in contact with a factory manager in Iran, to recount his experiences and share his thoughts from the first week of the conflict.

“[On the morning of Monday March 2], a very, very loud sound – caused by a bomb or missile – jolted me out of bed, waking me up,” he writes. “I froze, and did not immediately go to check on the factory until about 15 minutes later. In the factory, about 80 per cent of the windows facing the explosion were broken…The factory yard was full of bomb or missile fragments, full of large metal pieces, full of various parts including vision cameras, full of crushed rubble…broken glass covered my desk.”

“I think if [the explosion] had happened during working hours, we would have had at least 10-20 people injured…the distance between the explosion and our factory was about 100 meters.”

In the following week, Saeed cancelled work for his employees, although he went to the factory every day.

“Every day and night – at 10 p.m. or 3 a.m. or 8 a.m. etc., generally at different times – I heard a sound like an airplane or a missile. With my previous knowledge, I tried to take shelter quickly, so that if something happened, I wouldn’t get hurt. It sounded about two to four times every day.”

Once work resumed for Saeed’s employees, the sentiment amid the factory was one of unrest and paranoia. “There was worry in their eyes. A few of them had turned their feelings of worry into anger or chaos. Inadvertently, their words disturbed their coworkers and caused them to grow anxious as well. Seeing the state of the situation, I decided to call off work until further notice and send everyone home.”

“Some people decided to stay, to help clean up the rubble…at 9 a.m. we started replacing the broken windows. At noon, there was another explosion and the windows broke again.”

Such destruction and paranoia is characteristic of war. As the conflict drags on, Iranians – both within the country and in the diaspora – become increasingly disillusioned with the foreign powers who came to their “aid.” Hope dwindles for regime change and improved conditions once the war is over.

On the other hand, the majority of Iranians express discontent with the current regime, and have grown desperate for an alternative. “The ordinary people have lived without any peace or prosperity for 47 years. They are tired; they are unhappy,” Saeed tells us. “But they have found that whenever they protest, they face severe crackdowns and bloodshed, while the government remains untouched. I think more than 85 per cent of the people are against the government.”

Time and time again, mass protests against the regime have been met with violent retaliation. The most recent wave of protests in January and February of this year have been recorded as the deadliest wave of crackdowns in Iran’s modern history, with many estimates of fatalities exceeding 30,000.

This is why the assassination of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei on February 28 had such a profound effect on Iranians: after decades of protests that rendered thousands dead while harbouring no real change, hope is in scarce supply. The sudden death of the regime’s most important figurehead gives a despairing population a tangible source of hope to latch on to. The overwhelming sentiment seemed to be that Khamenei’s death had freed the people of Iran, and put a definitive end to their suffering.

However, liberation did not immediately follow Khamenei’s death. In fact, what Iran saw instead of democracy was its antithesis: Ali Khamenei’s son, Mojtaba Khamenei, was appointed by Iran’s Assembly of Experts as his replacement; and the Islamic regime, although weakened, remains in power.

Weakened in terms of state apparatus, but not in spirit; since the beginning of “Operation Epic Fury,” the Iranian government has doubled down on its repressive measures and intimidation tactics. On state television, one presenter threatened that “every single” dissident will be pursued, and they will “make [their] mothers mourn.” The chief of police claimed that anyone who takes to the streets against the regime “[will not be seen] as a protester or something else; we will see them as the enemy and do with them what we do with the enemy.” Some Iranians profess that, in spite of the current airstrikes, they are still more afraid of their own government than outside forces.

Their fear is not unfounded; the Islamic regime has routinely imprisoned, tortured, and killed those who it deems a threat to its hegemony. Systemic violence is intrinsic to the government’s state apparatus.

It is true that the US-Israeli attack is an illegal one, and the continual erosion of international law is deeply concerning. It is also true that American intervention in the Middle East, such as the “war on terror” in Afghanistan and the 2003 Iraqi invasion, has an egregious track record. The US’ meddling has often resulted in lengthy, drawn-out conflicts that destabilize governments and devastate local populations. However, the present alternative for Iran – complete withdrawal of US and Israeli forces from the region, leaving the people’s fate in the hands of the Islamic regime – isn’t awfully alluring either. It is likely that as soon as foreign attacks cease to be a threat, the Iranian government will carry out mass imprisonments and executions of its internal “enemies.”

One option touted enthusiastically by the diaspora is the return of the exiled crowned prince, Reza Pahlavi. Although Pahlavi has a sizeable support base in the Iranian diaspora, and perhaps has some backing in Iran, his competency for the role is questionable. Saeed has his reservations regarding the exiled prince: “A person who has only talked and lived in luxury for 47 years wouldn’t be willing to come to Iran even if they give him the country with both hands. In my opinion, the percentage of people’s desire for Reza Pahlavi…is not even between 5 and 15 per cent.”

In Saeed’s view, Reza Pahlavi is a troublesome candidate; “Having a father as the Shah is not proof of sensibility and wisdom. If your father was wise and sensible, the events of 1979 would not have taken place. [The Shah] also had in his mind a great delusion, and wanted not only Iran, but the entire world under his feet; a delusional dream of power and global domination. Like Mohammad Reza Shah, [Reza Pahlavi] is our Trump who wants to rule the world.”

When the most viable “democratic” alternative Iran sees for itself is a relic of an archaic autocratic dynasty, it is clear that Iran is not dealt a fair hand when it comes to democracy. Grievances and suffering have compounded over decades of living under oppressive rule, resulting in progressively lower expectations and standards for change. Even when people continue fighting for a “democratic” alternative, what they come to accept as “democracy” becomes more lenient.

What results is a nation in which war sparks celebration, and the most viable form of democracy is the return of monarchy. After 47 years of violence and bloodshed, war is peace and freedom is slavery.

The post Iran is Not Dealt a Fair Hand When it Comes to Democracy appeared first on The McGill Daily.

In 2026, Deloitte predicts that women will make up less than 30 per cent of the global technology workforce, given that they are consistently underrepresented in academic programs in science, technology, engineering, and mathematics (STEM). What is more, women make up only 25 per cent of tech positions on a global scale, as reported by Forbes and the National Center for Women and Information Technology. 

Girls Who Code confronts gender disparity in STEM by making the field inclusive and accessible for women and gender-diverse people. With an eye towards breaking gender barriers, the organization offers computer science lessons and mentorship for elementary and high school students across Montreal. It also runs hackathons for university students, networking events, and workshops. 

The Daily spoke with Girls Who Code executives Jenna Cacchione and Virginia Ceccatelli, U3 students studying Computer Science and Economics at McGill. We talked about the creative side to coding, imposter syndrome, and why young girls and gender-diverse students belong in the computer science field.

This interview has been edited for clarity and conciseness.

Enid Kohler for The McGill Daily (MD): How did you get involved in Girls Who Code, and why? 

Virginia Ceccatelli (VC): I was never really exposed to coding in high school. It wasn’t really a subject that was taught, and I always thought it was scary as a field and very masculine. When I started my studies in International Relations in university, I got a bit of exposure to Python and R and had so much fun with it, so I transferred into Computer Science. I want to give girls the opportunity to get into coding and see that it’s a creative process as well. 

Jenna Cacchione (JC): Similar to Virginia, I did my first year in [another program, Economics,] and then I switched into Computer Science. My high school didn’t have anything computer related…Had I had a program like this, maybe I would have switched into CS a little bit earlier. I really just wanted to give back [by giving] other girls that same opportunity. 

VC: CS really is like learning a language. Like any language, the more you speak it and the earlier you’re exposed to it, it’s so much easier to pick it up. 

MD: That’s a really good comparison. For those who aren’t familiar with your organization, can you pitch Girls Who Code in a few sentences? 

VC: [Girls Who Code] a way to make coding fun and creative, and to change the narrative that [coding] is anything relegated to the masculine sphere. We give back to young girls [by seeing] them learn every week. It’s really rewarding.

JC: [Coding] can be really daunting. Sometimes I look at my computer screen and I’m like, ‘oh my God, what am I even doing?’ For younger girls especially, it can be super intimidating, especially since it’s a male-dominated field. I hope our facilitators can act as big sisters to our students. 

MD: Why is it important that young girls and gender-diverse students have access to program like Girls Who Code? 

VC: In general, the CS field is massively male-dominated. Most role models in the industry are guys. So for us, it’s really to show girls that they can do it; it’s not that hard. For guys, this message is something they might have been told growing up, and for girls, it’s not necessarily the narrative. 

MD: You mentioned that the Computer Science space is predominantly male-dominated. In your own professional and/or academic experiences, what kind of patterns have you observed in terms of female representation and inclusivity? 

VC: I’m not working in the field yet, but through research projects, I’ve found that you have to prove yourself more. If you’re in a room that has seven guys and two girls, the two girls have to prove that they know what they’re talking about, that they can actually do everything that everyone else can. I feel like there’s this constant voice that’s second guessing my abilities as a girl coder. 

JC: I have to agree. I also find imposter syndrome is very much there. Exactly what you said, if you’re sitting at a table with a bunch of men, and you’re the only two girls, I sometimes feel like, ‘I don’t belong here.’It’s a mental challenge. Like, ‘no, I’ve put in the work. I do belong here. 

MD: On that note, what do you hope students will take away from the program beyond practical coding skills? 

JC: I hope that students realize that it’s okay to ask for help. Sometimes you do need guidance. I had tons of [it], and I was very lucky to have had mentors who were part of Girls Who Code. I hope that [these girls are] able to ask for help and possibly find a mentor later on in their academic career. 

MD: Do you have a favorite memory of your work with Girls Who Code? 

VC: In my year of being a facilitator for Girls Who Code, I taught at the same high school and a lot of the girls stayed the entire year. In the beginning, they were shy about asking questions, but it was really nice to see them gradually gain so much confidence. 

JC: I like the fact that our whole executive team is going through the same thing: we’re all looking for internships, we’re all studying pretty much the same classes. It’s nice to have that community. 

MD: The theme of this column is “good people doing good things.” In the context of your work with Girls Who Code, what does being a “good person” mean to you?

JC: To me, being a good person means giving back and helping younger girls. Acknowledging that I didn’t have the guidance or knowledge that I do now, and then giving it to the next person. 

VC: Instead of resenting the system and having to stretch myself to catch up to get to where I am now, I can give these girls what I wish I had. Being a good person also means sticking together as girls and by helping girls realize that they can do it if they want to. There’s nothing stopping them. 

Learn more about Girls Who Code and opportunities to get involved on Instagram, @girlswhocodemcgill, or through their website, girlswhocode. ssmu.ca

End note: If you know good people doing good things who you would like to see featured in this column, email news@mcgilldaily.com

The post Rewriting the Code: McGill Students Break Barriers in Computer Science appeared first on The McGill Daily.

One moment, an influencer is showing their skincare routine on TikTok.

The next, you are watching footage of bombings in Gaza.

This is the strange paradoxical rhythm of social media. Images of war, famine, and political violence appear alongside memes, fashion content, and pop culture gossip. Tragedy and entertainment converge into the same continuous stream of content.

For many people, especially students who receive most of their news through platforms like TikTok, Instagram, or X, the juxtaposition of global tragedy and everyday entertainment creates a kind of emotional whiplash. We move instantly from witnessing human suffering to something else entirely, without the time to process what we have just seen. In previous generations, exposure to global tragedy was slower and more mediated. Encountering global tragedy often requires dedicated time and attention—whether through reading a full article or watching a news segment — because understanding and emotionally processing such events cannot happen instantaneously. Social media breaks this experience into fragments: war footage appears between vacation photos and makeup tutorials, exposing users to global suffering in brief moments, squeezed between other content competing for attention. The infinite scroll collapses the distance between the catastrophic and the mundane.

This constant exposure to suffering can be psychologically exhausting. Seeing repeated images of violence, starvation, or destruction, even from afar, can create feelings of anxiety, helplessness, or emotional fatigue. Some psychologists refer to this as secondary or vicarious trauma: the emotional toll of witnessing suffering indirectly through media.

However, social media introduces an additional layer to this experience. The problem is not only that we see these images but rather how we see them. Online feeds offer no pause, no transition, and no context. The emotional system is forced to switch rapidly between empathy, shock, amusement, and indifference.

Over time, this can create a dangerous form of desensitization. When atrocity appears constantly in the feed, it risks becoming just another form of content. The brain begins to protect itself by dulling its response. The images are still disturbing, but they begin to blur together. What once felt shocking starts to feel like the norm.

There is also an emotional tension many users experience: the discomfort of scrolling past suffering. A video shows a starving child, a destroyed city, or grieving families. We watch for a few seconds, perhaps feel a surge of sadness or anger, and then we move on. Then, another post appears. Another video. Another distraction. Features like infinite scroll and algorithmically curated feeds encourage us to continue scrolling, even when what we have seen deserves attention and reflection.

This dynamic raises an unsettling question: are we truly empathizing with suffering, or simply observing it?

Critic Susan Sontag once wrote in her book, Regarding the Pain of Others, about how images of war can transform violence into spectacle. When suffering is repeatedly photographed and circulated, it risks becoming something viewers observe rather than something they meaningfully engage with. Social media intensifies this problem. The platforms that deliver these images are designed to maximize engagement and attention, not reflection.

None of this means people should ignore global events or stop paying attention to injustice. The circulation of images from conflict zones has also played an important role in raising awareness and documenting human rights violations. Many of the world’s most urgent stories now reach global audiences precisely because ordinary people share them online.

Nonetheless, it is worth questioning how the structure of social media feeds and shapes our emotional relationship to these events. When tragedy appears alongside entertainment, when catastrophe becomes part of the same endless scroll as memes and lifestyle content, our sense of empathy becomes harder to sustain.

We are more informed than ever before. Yet at the same time, we are often overwhelmed, exhausted, and unsure how to respond.

The problem is not that we see the world’s suffering. The problem is that the platforms through which we see it rarely allow us the space to feel it.

The post The Emotional Whiplash of Infinite Scroll appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Every year, March 8 serves as a benchmark to gauge the causes that women are fighting for, a moment to reflect on the progress of last year’s concerns, and on the wave of new ones that have since emerged. This year, indignation towards legislative amendments in the province dominated demonstrations in Montreal and Quebec City, with thousands of participants protesting recent changes including threats to religious freedoms, reductions in women’s access to healthcare services, and narrow immigration policies.

A notable point of contention is the government’s ongoing pursuit of secularism. While in 2019, Bill 21 initially banned public service workers, like teachers, from wearing religious symbols in the workplace, last October, Bill 94 went a step further, prohibiting school staff, volunteers, and students from doing the same. According to CBC, the Quebec government intends to “defend equality between men and women,” though the bill can often carry out the opposite effect. Dolores Chew, a member of Women of Diverse Origins, the group who organized the march, explained that “women who wear hijabs are going to lose employment, making them economically dependent.” Thus, instead of reversing the effect of patriarchal power dynamics, measures like these reinforce them. The consequences of Bill 94, which encourages women to choose between faith and involvement in civil society, are already evident. In January, the Riverside Elementary School in Montreal banned Sabaah Khan, a mother who had volunteered at the library for 8 years, for wearing a hijab due to its compliance with Bill 94. Furthermore, the new secular proposal of Bill 9 expands the current restrictions on religious attire to subsidized daycares and private schools, in addition to banning prayer spaces and religious foods in public institutions.

Another central issue among protesters is women’s access to healthcare. Funding and staff shortages have led to the temporary closure of obstetrics clinics across the province. In the last few months, several women have had to travel hours to give birth due to a lack of professionals or clinics near them, particularly in the Gaspésie region in eastern Quebec. As reported by CBC, a member of the Parti Quebecois and a health critic, Joël Arseneau, denounced the government’s idleness, which treats women in the Gaspé like “second class citizens.” Those without access to public health insurance face even more obstacles, since the community groups that are meant to help them also face severe funding drawbacks from the provincial government. Moreover, intimate partner violence reports in Quebec tripled from 2015 to 2024. The rise in reports throughout the decade might not only reflect the quantity of cases, but also an increase in women reporting violence to the police. In the first three weeks of 2026, at least four men killed women in a context of intimate partner violence in Quebec. Additionally, women’s shelters are in demand now more than ever, with the housing crisis and limited access to the appropriate resources women need to leave dangerous situations.

Furthermore, the stricter immigration policies in the last few years have created an especially precarious environment for female immigrants. Filipino protester Deann Nardo, from Migrante Quebec, claims women of colour who immigrate to Quebec are more vulnerable to “exploitation and abuse,” both at home and in the workplace. These women are more than 20 per cent more likely than men to arrive in Canada with spousal status. They are put in precarious situations where the right of many immigrant women to remain in the country depends on their partner’s employment. This systemic economic dependence binds them to their partners resulting in not only a lack of self- sufficiency, but also a difficulty in leaving a patriarchal household. While open work permits were a gateway into finding employment, now, with greater restrictions on the eligibility of spouses and dependents, financial autonomy for immigrant women seems even further away.

The provincial instability mirrors a broader concern. On a global scale, the ascension of the far-right threatens the security of women’s rights. “There’s a rise in anti- feminist discourse,” says Anne- Valérie Lemieux-Breton, the coordinator of the social services group Regroupement des Groupes de Femmes de la Capitale- Nationale. Québec Solidaire (QS) leader Ruba Ghazal highlights how hateful comments online targeting female public figures discourage many women from continuing to share their views online. She partly attributes targeted online harassment to “a rise in misogynistic and masculinist discourse, even in schools.” Montreal-based author, India Desjardins, shared a recent comment in which she was targeted on one of her posts: “You’re a crazy bitch. Go get help.” Ghazal defends the importance of not trivializing such violence, as well as the need for a service that addresses the issue and helps victims feel safer. The QS leader claims “There is a lot of work to be done to educate and raise awareness among the population.”

International Women’s Month is here not just as an opportunity to celebrate all that women have conquered over centuries of oppression. It’s a reminder that systemic barriers against equality perpetually rig the game, and that women of colour constantly find themselves in a lose-lose. In this political climate, women like protester, Mathilde Leduc, are fearful that “the rights that we had will disappear over time.” Though standing tall March after March is a tiresome battle, we’re still standing, as resistance is imperative so that no woman is left behind.

The post Second-Class Citizens appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Make no mistake, fanfiction has always existed in mainstream spaces. More romance novels tha you might think are actually Rey/Kylo Ren fanfiction disguised by unsubtle name changes and superficial editing. Fifty Shades of Grey started off as a Twilight fanfiction. Even the Game Changers series (you might know it better as the books from which Heated Rivalry was adapted) is rumoured to have been a “stucky hockey au” [Marvel fanfiction of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes]. The current problem comes from the shift away from bottom-up decision-making to top-down, from authors deciding to monetize their work to publishing corporations asking for it. Most of all, the problem is the visibility that comes with it, which opens up fandoms to potential outside threats, like angry authors or toxic
nternet users.

Capitalism…
The best thing about fanfiction is that it is a gift from the author to the reader. The first unspoken rule when entering online fandom communities is to respect and appreciate the work that is done. Fanfiction authors write for free in their own time, during their very (infamously so) busy lives. Maybe the story is bad, and the grammar non-existent; there might be no punctuation, or capital letters every three words, but it was written by someone who was passionate and experimenting, and it is frowned upon to criticize them for it.

To someone who has only experienced mainstream online spaces, smaller fandoms can be extremely welcoming. There is a reason for that, (weirdos sticking together if you want to be sappy, but, from a more cynical and realistic point of view): compensation — or the lack thereof. The basis for most of the discourse opposing disparaging comments is that fanfiction writing is a hobby shared out of the goodness of one’s heart. No one owes anyone anything, and one only needs to be kind in return. Yet now, a precedent has been set; money has entered the equation. If once is happenstance and twice a coincidence, it only needs to happen again for money to become enemy action, to become a pattern. And who knows how this new business model will impact the community’s ethos of mutual respect.

But, why are publishing companies picking up fanfiction? The answer — it might surprise you — is also money. Fanfiction, even scrubbed of every trace of the original world and characters, still offers the enormous advantage of a built-in audience, thus guaranteeing automatic return on investment. Fans familiar with the work will buy it, and people, morbidly curious, having heard of the story and its origins by word of mouth, will want to get a glimpse.

A risk for the Harry Potter fandom

It is a truth universally acknowledged that if the original author can no longer maintain plausible deniability about fandom activity, bad things happen. Although a lot of authors, such as George R. R. Martin, operate under a kind of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy regarding fanfiction, others like Anne Rice are not so kind. The author of Interview with the Vampire is infamous in fandom circles for threatening to sue fanfiction writers and going so far as to send a cease-and-desist letter to Fanfiction.net, asking them to remove everything related to her work.

The risk of dragging Harry Potter fan-created content into the mainstream is that it might force a confrontation with the author. As of yet, there have been no such incidents, but how long will that peace last? There has rarely been a fandom with so much genuine, blinding hatred for the original author as the Harry Potter fandom. Most of the time, hate geared towards the original creators of works comes from disappointment with the source material: the ending of Game of Thrones, the blatant queer-baiting in Netflix’s Wednesday, or Veronica Mars’ entire fourth season. People hate the directors for the choices they made. Meanwhile, Harry Potter fans hate J.K. Rowling for personal and political reasons, and that hatred runs deep.

J.K. Rowling’s views about the LGBTQ+ community are very problematic, and if there is one thing to know about fandom, it is that it is queer. Writing fanfiction is not just teenage girls shipping male characters. It’s marginalized audiences reappropriating symbols and characters. It’s incorporating queer themes into originally cis heterosexual media, creating trans plotlines, and discussing internalized homophobia, intersectionality, and the intricacies of consent. Rowling has, historically and with great emphasis, denigrated such social issues. It raises concerns about her potential reaction to an army of fans who curse the ground she walks on. Will she continue to close her eyes and allow fandom communities to operate? That seems like a best-case scenario, but far from the only one. Rowling can decide to co-opt the more supportive and ‘acceptable’ branches of the movement, or even retaliate and wreak destruction on a scale only permissible to billionaires like herself.

Outsiders looking in
Original content creators, authors, and directors are not the only threat that heightened visibility brings to fandom. A more insidious, though no less dangerous one is judgmental internet users who feel entitled to fandom spaces, and refuse to adapt to these spaces’ rules and culture despite having chosen to enter them. Fandom spaces are being forcefully gentrified by individuals who refuse to interact with the more alternative parts of the community. Most people know that fandom is weird, but they don’t really understand it. How are you supposed to explain “Dead Dove, Do Not Eat” to someone who’s never heard of it before? People might like the cute couple or the hot, slightly-but-not-too-problematic relationships, but they might not necessarily be prepared for works that go beyond what is usually socially acceptable.

This is not new: it is happening – and has been for a while – to the fandom and LGBTQ+ communities as a whole. Who is the most relevant? The most marketable? Such debates arise as people discuss the inclusion (or exclusion) of more marginalized sub-groups. Hence, internal hierarchies are created and certain groups deemed ‘other’ by the broader community and audience. In queer circles, underground practices like BDSM get slapped with the label of “sexually deviant” and are excluded from some queer spaces they’d historically been a part of.

Fandoms — fanfiction maybe especially — are close to such subcultures and might face the same progressive sanitisation if shoved to the center stage. When something exists as a subculture, it is easy for it to be more diverse because everyone is equally threatened by the public majority. In recent times, fandoms have grown more visible and attractive; yet only certain facets of them are deemed appropriate to the mainstream public. This can have a negative impact on its internal dynamics, based on trust and respect, as newcomers become influenced by public discourse or are simply ignorant of the community’s culture. Hence, safe spaces previously designed for marginalized communities to exist and thrive are gentrified, becoming another pawn from which capitalist entities can profit.

The post The Gentrification of Online Fandom Spaces appeared first on The McGill Daily.

For clarity, “Shakespeare” will be used in reference to playwright William Shakespeare, William to the husband and Agnes will be referred to by her first name.

Inspired by Maggie O’Farrell’s novel of the same name, co- written and directed by Chloe Zhao, the film carries arrives carrying considerable weight. After receiving the Oscar for Best Actress for her role as Agnes Shakespeare, Jessie Buckley is all over the media. Critics have described her performance as “devastating” and called it a “radically feminine take on Shakespeare’s family life” — both of which are true. As Buckley said herself, the role offered her a chance to counter a common narrative about the playwright’s wife — that she had “kept [Shakespeare] back from his genius” — and instead to “give the full landscape of what it is to be a woman.” Despite an impressive performance from Paul Mescal as William Shakespeare, I am of the opinion that Buckley steals the show

Set in 16th-century Warwickshire, the story follows Agnes’ navigation of child loss, the shifting dynamics between parents, and both Agnes and William’s journeys traversing their grief, as William writes the play Hamlet about their deceased son. The film opens with a breathtaking shot: a dense forest canopy, an overhead camera slowly tracking down through the foliage to find Agnes positioned at the base, in a fetal position, alluding to Mother Nature. In this, motherhood immediately takes centre stage.

The costume design sustains this theme throughout the film. She is dressed almost entirely in red, set starkly against the dark greens of the forest and the navy blues of Shakespeare and the children. Colours in the film have symbolic messaging: the bedroom covers shift from orange to blue after Hamnet’s death, signifying the turn from familial joy to grief; and the boy himself wears both orange and blue in the scenes before he dies, subtly distinguishing him from his siblings. When Agnes appears in red again at the final reconciliation, it reads as something quietly triumphant. The cinematography by Łukasz Żal reinforces her centrality at every turn — from prolonged close-ups on her face, to wide shots that place her at the centre of the frame while William Shakespeare recedes behind her.

When William Shakespeare decides to move to London, Zhao makes a poignant directorial decision to keep the camera, and thus the story, with the family that stayed behind, framing Agnes’ encouragement as a genuine, costly sacrifice, rather than a passive acceptance

The two birthing scenes are extraordinary in their contrast. The first has Agnes alone in the forest, gripping the roots of a tree in her red dress, giving life as Mother Nature does: in solitude, and in pain. The second, set at home, is stripped of any musical score, the silence making it almost unbearable. The film’s treatment of motherhood is among its most striking qualities. The solidarity between women across generations receives equal care in its portrayal: Agnes’ stepmother’s support during the birth of the twins, the quiet “you can and you will,” and the flashbacks of Agnes as a child having lost losing her own mother to childbirth. Her cry “I want my mum” is one of the rawest lines in the film.

Shakespeare’s absence at the moment of Hamnet’s death is handled with the same weight: the later line, “you should’ve been there,” lands with quiet devastation. Furthermore, Jacobi Jupe, who plays young Hamnet, deserves serious recognition. The farewell scene between Hamnet and William is shot with remarkable composition: an expansive wide angle shot that almost divides the frame between them, both turning back to look at each other laughing, unwilling to leave after saying goodbye.

Hamnet’s death scene devastated the entire cinema. It is rendered with an almost expressionistic, poetic quality: the boy walking away into death, surrounded by painted trees that echo the forest of the movie’s opening scene, the circle of his life quietly closing. The line “I’ll be brave,” delivered with tears barely held back, by candlelight and with Max Richter’s score beneath it, is the film’s emotional peak.

There are moments that feel overly indulgent. The close-up staging of the “To be or not to be” soliloquy, although brilliantly performed by Mescal, disrupts the narrative momentum and feels like a gesture toward theatre enthusiasts rather than something the film has earned. It felt like an attempt to anchor this loose adaptation back to canonical Shakespeare. The final scene also overstays its welcome, the sustained violins drawing out emotion that has already been fully brought out.

As Peter Bradshaw has noted for The Guardian, “on one level, the narrative is a fallacious misreading,” relying heavily on a name coincidence that could be simply that. But he is equally right that it represents a “thrilling act of creative audacity, reaching back through the centuries to embrace Shakespeare and Agnes as human beings.” That is the film’s genuine achievement. It is a story about grief, parenthood and ultimately the unheard characters behind one of the most recognized plays ever written.

The post Review: Hamnet, The Retelling of a Lost Figure appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Anya Kasuri, TVM President and Post-Credits Editor-in-Chief, attended the event dressed in a sparkling gown and touted the magazine’s sole physical copy. The magazine, which she co-founded alongside TVM’s graphics coordinator, Sascha Siddiqui, encourages authors to thoughtfully analyze their favourite films. Kasuri is in her third year, studying International Development with a double minor in Political Science and World Cinemas.

In an interview with The McGill Daily, Kasuri says, “Film is the medium that influences our everyday character and aspirations.” Not only does it influence you, it allows you to understand yourself: “Critiquing film is a social activity, an intellectual engagement, and at its core, is a self-assessment of your values and beliefs…the meaning you derive from it can be really telling of your character too. ”

Her favourite part of the magazine is the graphics: “[Unlike writing, graphics] provide visuals to cinema…to perfectly complement the [article’s] argument. Sascha [Siddiqui], our graphics coordinator, did an incredible job bridging the gap … When I saw the final [magazine] it was her creativity that grounded the writing back to its roots — an appreciation of cinema.”

“Films should always be critically analyzed this way. I feel like that’s a value that I’ve derived from my film classes, particularly with Professor Ara Osterweil,” she replied when asked about the vision behind the magazine. “The process of watching and experiencing a film is not only viewing it, then going home and going to sleep. It’s about watching it with your friends, watching other people, reacting, [and] hearing everyone’s reactions in the crowd. Afterward, [the experience is about] discussing it as you understand it — because when you come out of a movie, you’re not going to know exactly what you have to say; it’s not a fully fleshed-out thought. When you spend time discussing it, you learn more about it.”

The key difference, for Kasuri, between short- and long-form analysis lies in its depth: “[Long-form analysis] offers full fledged evaluations of films’ formal elements: cinematography, mise en scene, visual tone, colour palette, acting, narrative — being able to evaluate that in a longer form analysis lets you see each film individually…and its directors’ vision apart from one another because you get into the depths of each films’ elements’ meaning[s].” To conclude: “It’s a better, more engaging, intellectual, and educational alternative to short-form media.”

However, she notes that many people forget the core of analysis: what the film wants to be. “A lot of people misjudge pieces of media by applying the same expectations to all [of them]. It’s important to judge a film based on what it’s striving to be…they all have different standards of their visual language, their pacing, their acting, their sets,” said Kasuri.

I encountered Elena Degas at a bar table next to the DJ booth, listening intently to the live band. As TVM’s music composer, she wanted to “provide insight from a musical perspective.” Writing to the Daily, she highlighted how the score was integral to the story: “Sinners was by far the film that impacted me most from the last year, and I felt that it was special in the way that the score/music was so integral to the story and the conversations that were happening around the film.”

Degas got her start in film scoring when she watched Euphoria in 2019. The music was what made her love the show; she found that it could tell a poignant story on its own.

Her favourite part of the article she wrote for Post-Credits was her analysis of the use of blues at the centre of Sinners. It gives the viewer insight into the film’s characters and their struggles. Especially the song “Pick Poor Robin Clean,” demonstrates the turn from oppressed to oppressor in Remmick, an Irishman. It opens up a “space for a larger conversation about the history of predominately Black genres of music and how they’ve evolved and continue to live on today.”

From her article: “It is immediately following [the surreal montage] scene when the people in the juke joint are faced with the vampires, who dauntingly perform an upbeat, folk-inspired rendition of ‘Pick Poor Robin Clean’ for the group.” The song is “a blues song that [embodies] someone trying to survive by picking apart and taking everything they can from a dead robin.”

For Degas, “this jolly folk rendition exemplifies the white vampires’ inability to engage empathetically and thoughtfully with the community they are attempting to infiltrate, and recalls a common pattern in genres such as blues and jazz, in which white musicians have historically appropriated and overshadowed Black artists.” Remmick’s positionality is especially striking because of his Irish heritage and experience with colonialism. His desire to completely consume the music is shaped by a selfish desire to preserve it the way he was unable to with his own heritage. However, in doing so, he reproduces colonial violence, with music becoming a tangible symbol of culture.

TVM has allowed Degas to explore her passion for the soundscape of a movie: “Film is now one of the main cornerstones of my life, I have found a huge love for making music for films at TVM, and have found a great community of other film-lovers here; I now plan on attending film school next year for sound design in hopes of a career in film audio/music!”

McGill’s distinct lack of a creative arts programme is no secret. However, student initiatives like Post-Credits Magazine are working to allow student film lovers to think critically about the art they are passionate about.

TVM will be hosting its largest event of the year, FOKUS Film Festival on Thursday, March 26 at Cinema Du Parc. For more information, visit TVM at tvmtelevision.com or @tvm.television on Instagram.

The post TVM Reveals the First Issue of Post-Credits Magazine appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The artist was born and raised in Montreal Nord’s vibrant community, which played a role in developing her narrative voice early on, writing intimate and cinematic songs straight from the heart. Armed with unbreakable determination and a pure love for music, Cinzia has amassed a dedicated following, as well as strong streaming numbers throughout the years. She has performed at major festivals including Festivoix, Ottawa Bluesfest, Festival sur le Canal, and St. Roch X. Most recently, she performed at Cafe Campus on March 3.

In late 2025, Cinzia released “When I Think About Us,” followed by “Runner” — both tracks included in the newly released EP, The Wax, which was released on March 20, 2026.

“When I Think About Us” kicks off The Wax with an upbeat tune reminiscing on a love that never could be, in spite of its greatness. On the other hand, “Runner” is a slow introspection of the writer’s unhealthy attachment to emotionally unavailable partners. Both singles pave the way for “Thread,” the latest single Cinzia released before sharing her completed EP. The Daily spoke with Cinzia about The Wax, why “Thread” means so much to her, and what the listener should look out for while listening to her work.

This interview has been edited for clarity and conciseness.

Youmna El Halabi for The McGill Daily (MD): How did the idea of your new EP come to be? Why “The Wax”?

Cinzia: Most of what I do with Cinzia & The Eclipse is based on the magic of the moon and her cycle. The waxing crescent actually begins this Friday so I thought [it would be] a perfect time to take her beauty and [immortalize] it within the music that we’re sharing.

MD: How did you decide that “Thread” would be the lead single?

Cinza: “Thread” is the song that means [more] to me than anything I’ve ever written for myself. There was something extremely cathartic and therapeutic about writing [about] how I really fell to my knees at one point and would’ve done absolutely anything for the person I love. I know people say that, but in that last relationship I really understood what it meant to love someone unconditionally. I saw every scar, every crack, every ounce of heart, hurt, beauty and ugly of this person, even the parts he thought he was hiding, and I have to admit I loved this person. I would’ve quite honestly walked through fire if it came to it. So when we wrote “Thread,” I didn’t even know I was writing about myself and that relationship. I really thought I was just writing a cute little song until I started to piece the lyrics together and be like, “Ohhh, she was me!!”

MD: What was the people’s response to “Thread,” and what are your thoughts on their reactions?

Cinzia: People locked in, which was really incredible. I had people messaging me in tears because of the chorus, which honestly fills me with gratitude because that chorus is truly a beg. You’re begging for someone to stay, that you’ll become whatever they want. I think the music driving those words and the repetitions really captures the anxious state of mind you end up in when you’re so in love and begging someone to stay.

MD: You’ve put out several EPs throughout the years, and I’m guessing with each one there was a unique process that was followed. What was it like for The Wax during production?

Cinzia: To be honest, I was a pain in the ass with this EP. I’ve become really confident in the sound and elements that I want in my music. These songs have evolved into exactly what I want them to be. In the past, I’ve had a little more of a pop sound, but it never spoke to me as an artist, even though everything [producers] Markybeats and Luca did with those songs is absolutely everything. It’s always a great pleasure to work with friends because they understand me without me having to explain [my vision] too deeply, so I’m really grateful for their talent and friendship.

MD: Describe your writing process from inspiration to creating a song.

Cinzia: I don’t know if I have a process. I think it’s just being real, getting in a room, having real conversations and spinning that into cool lyrics and melodies. That’s the beauty of the arts in my opinion. You’re kind of spinning something out of nothing, something you just pulled out of a subconscious place. I think the more in tune you are with yourself and the universe, the easier it is to tap into songwriting and connect with people. We’re in a hub where all thoughts and experiences cross over. That’s why songs can become so relatable! We’re all living some of the same experiences.

MD: What do you hope people get from the album?

Cinzia: Some closure, maybe some spells they can repeat and chant. I hope people have fun with it and get whatever they need at the time they hear it.

MD: What is your favourite part about performing your new songs versus your old ones?

Cinzia: I’m an impulsive person, so doing anything new will always be where a lot of my excitement lies. I also think these songs are the most real and honest I’ve been, so it’s nice to be able to play music that truly resonates with me as a human.

The Wax is available for listening on all platforms. Cinzia & The Eclipse will resume touring on April 26.

The post The Wax Talk appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The above vignette forms the opening scene from Love Story: John F. Kennedy Jr. & Carolyn Bessette, FX’s newest show that has quickly become a sensation. Speaking to the public’s enduring infatuation with the couple, it is now the platform’s most watched limited series to date, just a month after its release. The limited series tells the story of America’s reluctant “it couple” of the 1990s. Love Story curates the details of Kennedy Jr. and Bessette’s notoriously guarded relationship. Drawing from friends’ anecdotes and media footage we see Bessette fitting Kennedy Jr. for a suit in the Calvin Klein show room, to a proposal on a boat at Martha’s Vineyard, or a fight in Battery Park where Kennedy Jr. pulled off Bessette’s ring. This collage of moments is depicted in the show, with certain shots taking on the grainy quality and square framing of a ’90s era camera, making the restaging obvious of a moment captured by the press. Other production choices appeal to cultural memory, such as the costuming. The show’s crew went to pains to source archival pieces from Yohji Yamamoto and specific items like a green Valentino coat to evoke the image of Besette’s looks, as seen in paparazzi images.

With the series’ clever blending of fiction and reality, it’s easy to believe the iconic couple’s real relationship is finally being revealed. The chemistry between the two leads (Sarah Pidgeon and Paul Anthony Kelly), close-up shots, warm lighting, and the “behind closed doors” setting develops a captivating intimacy. After watching the first few episodes of the show, I had a feeling of hollowness I couldn’t place. Only to discover, I was mourning the couple’s death, over 25 years later.

The intense public investment which Love Story depends on and re-evokes was significant to Kennedy Jr. and Bessette’s relationship. The public’s adoration and collective grief for his father as well as a life in front of the cameras made John F. Kennedy Jr. America’s son, as well as its most coveted bachelor. Any woman Kennedy Jr. dated was held to high standards by the public. The same went for Bessette, who was put under intense scrutiny by the media. She had claimed the man who belonged to America, and these were the consequences.

Having never been in the public eye, Carolyn Bessette was different from all of the women Kennedy Jr. had previously dated. When the show begins, Kennedy Jr. is still dating actress Daryl Hannah. Hannah is adept at handling the paparazzi, as she poses for a few good pictures to get them to go away. This juxtaposes Bessette, who refuses to give any of herself away to the media. She’s the perfect enigma. Her style is the epitome of minimalism. There are only two clips of her voice that circulate online, each under two seconds long. Her attitude defied the public’s insistence on a stake in her relationship. The tabloids called her an “ice queen.”

As the couple’s relationship got more serious, so too did the American public’s investment. In Love Story, Bessette and Kennedy Jr. are swarmed and harassed by reporters who block the entrance to their apartment upon their return from their honeymoon. A few days later, the couple’s car is climbed on and surrounded by photographers, making them unable to drive away. More and more tabloids speculate about Bessette, commonly circulating rumours about a pregnancy based on her appearance. As a result of the intense media attention on the couple, the scope of Bessette’s world becomes smaller. She quit her job as publicist at Calvin Klein, and began to limit public appearances. Love Story imagines the press as anxiety-inducing for Bessette, with close-up shots of her fidgeting hands and slowed camera flashes across her worried face.

This is referenced in the show’s opening. Bessette is first seen being hounded by the media and nervously conforming her appearance to their expectations. Meanwhile, Kennedy Jr. is introduced on his way out of the offices of his magazine George. In contrast to Bessette, he confidently strides down the halls, undisturbed; followed only by his assistant. This immediately establishes the couple’s differing relationship with the media, showing it as particularly crippling for Bessette.

The aggression of the media in Love Story is particularly striking. In another scene, Bessette is pushed into a car door by a mob of reporters. If this is how Love Story sees the American media of the ’90s, then how does it see itself? This is a fine line for the show to walk. The vicious portrayal of the media invites recognition of Love Story itself as equally aggressive and intrusive. Not to mention, with questionable ethics. Despite providing narrative form and an empathetic lens, the show can be deemed as no less invasive than the ’90s tabloids it scrutinizes.

Love Story dramatizes the inner lives of a couple who were notoriously private, undoubtedly adding to the appeal. Its main character is Carolyn Bessette, a woman who never gave a public interview. However, the show often aligns the viewer with Bessette to develop pathos, focusing on her hesitation and nerves as she meets the Kennedy family and faces the paparazzi for the first time. Viewers are invited to identify with Bessette’s position as an outsider to the life of America’s royalty. “They feel like they know us,” says Jackie Kennedy in the show. Her and Kennedy Jr. sit in her apartment, reflecting on their relationship with the American public. Her statement is immediately uncanny, the show’s staging of this intimate conversation giving it a self-reflexive resonance.

A similar moment speaks to me. In the show’s seventh episode, “Obsession”, Bessette opens up to Kennedy Jr. about her struggles with media attention, admitting that it was much harder to handle than she had thought. Overcome with heaving sobs in Kennedy Jr.’s arms, Bessette relinquishes her strong exterior. It is one of the most heart-breaking and vulnerable moments of the show. As their apartment buzzer sounds, she cries out: “They won’t leave us alone.”

The post Another Doomed Love Story: The American Media & Carolyn Bessette appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Play is critical for children’s physical and mental well-being, but not every child has the same access to recreational athletics and community socialization. Founded in 2000, Right to Play is an international non-profit organization that seeks to protect, educate, and empower children in disadvantaged communities through the power of play. Since its foundation, it has reached millions of children in Africa, Asia, and North America, namely, Canada; with the aim of harnessing play to support youth enduring conflict, disease, and poverty.

Since 2006, students have been the official university representatives of the Right to Play organization at McGill. They volunteer in local Montreal schools to promote inclusive and accessible play, fundraise for the international organization, and run community events like toy and food drives for underprivileged communities in the city. The Daily spoke with Co-President and U3 Biology and Math student Jack Gill about Right to Play. We spoke about his involvement in the club, the importance of play and physical activity, and why curiosity should be encouraged in youth.

This interview has been edited for clarity and conciseness.

Enid Kohler for the McGill Daily (MD): I’m curious about your own involvement with Right to Play. How and why did you get involved?

Jack Gill (JG): I’m on the varsity swim team at McGill, so I’ve been swimming most of my life. We train almost every day, sometimes twice a day. So sports and being active have been a really important part of my life. It’s allowed me to develop a sense of community, make tons of friends, and build my confidence in and out of the water. I wanted to encourage that in other kids. I started volunteering in winter 2025. I worked in a class with students who have learning disabilities and autism, to encourage more inclusive play. It was really fun to build connections with these kids and slowly see throughout the semester how they got more comfortable and open with us.

MD: How would you pitch Right to Play to a first year student at Activities Night?

JG: Right to Play is not just a club we founded here. It’s a broader international organization. Their whole goal is to empower kids through play to overcome adversity, especially less privileged kids. In Canada, the branch focuses more on [BIPOC such as] African communities who might not have … access to [the] resources that we do, as well as Indigenous communities who similarly don’t have the same resources or access. Our chapter takes from that. We have a lot of events where we fundraise in order to support local schools and youth groups, as well as give back to the broader Right to Play organization. We also volunteer in schools to encourage active lifestyles and fun activities.

MD: Why is it important for kids to have play in their lives?

JG: A lot of children we volunteer with don’t necessarily have access to play. For those with learning disabilities, their parents try to protect them a lot and they don’t necessarily let them do the things other children would do. It doesn’t necessarily give them the opportunity to learn and be curious. Being able to encourage that and let them try things and maybe fail and letting them explore is really meaningful to me.

MD: Do you have a favourite memory of your work with Right to Play?

JG: At one of our schools where we volunteer, we go sledding on this little hill in the winter. One of the kids at the beginning wasn’t able to get up on his own. We would encourage him to get up, but we’d end up having to help him. But later, near the end of the semester, he was able to start getting up by himself with all of us cheering around and encouraging him. It was just so nice when he was able to stand up by himself and show [that] he was fully independent. And now he’s able to do that all the time. His parents might have just always helped him and would never have let him learn to do it by himself. That was probably my favourite moment.

MD: What do you hope kids will take away from Right to Play programming into university and beyond?

JG: I think just life skills, like being able to be independent and do things on your own and interact with other people. Also a sense of community as well as teamwork and the idea of an active lifestyle. With this generation we’re kind of leaning away from that with technology, but it’s so important.

MD: The theme of this column is “good people doing good things.” In the context of your work with Right to Play McGill, what does being a “good person” mean to you?

JG: I think what it means to be a good person is to be able to listen to people and kids and let them guide you. One of the big things I like with volunteering is not necessarily forcing kids to do things but guiding them and helping them choose their own path.

To learn more about Right to Play and opportunities to get involved, visit @rtpmcgill on Instagram.

End note: If you know good people doing good things who you would like to see featured in this column, email news@mcgilldaily.com

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“You never know if you’re going to be in the news or not that day…if [the IOF (sic., a pejorative term for the Israeli Defense Force)] will try to pull a trigger.”

In October 2025, Giancarlo Cininni packed his bags and headed to Ramallah, in the West Bank of Palestine. Cininni worked as a volunteer for the International Solidarity Movement (ISM), a Palestinian-led movement founded in August 2001. The ISM’s main objective is to provide support for Palestinian resistance against apartheid through direct action including protests, disruption and on-the-ground volunteering. In addition, they documentation of current event in Palestine such as journalism in the form of photos and volunteer testimonies. 

Cininni is a freelance journalist based in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Having studied journalism at King’s College during the Gaza genocide in 2023, he wrote a piece for The Dalhousie Gazette criticizing the events that led up to October 7th. As a millennial in his 30s, Cininni vividly remembers the 9/11 incident, and the global “war on terror” that ensued — something he couldn’t help likening to the ongoing genocide in Gaza more than 20 years later. 

“9/11 didn’t have the same historical context in the same way that October 7th did,” he clarifies. “But the way the media was just gathering the troops essentially, and trying to get everybody in line, and was spreading hate towards a specific group, was similar to 9/11,” Cininni noted in an interview with the Daily.

“I would say October 7th was probably worse [in regard to scapegoating] because the context of the Hamas attacks was very much in line with [resisting the oppressor]. There was the Great March of Return in 2019 and other struggles. Anybody with a brain would be like, ‘[Gaza’s resistance] is a powder keg waiting to explode’. It’s only a matter of time. And there’s strategic significance to the actions on October 7th, what with the normalization happening.”

Cininni’s piece sought to give the public some type of context on what the state of Israel is doing in Gaza, and how their actions amplified the violence that occurred on October 7th. 

“Most Canadians are probably not well-versed in the complicated histories of Israel and Palestine,” he wrote. “Which makes our population an easy target for the management and manipulation of public opinion via unbalanced coverage. This involves several factors — Israeli lobbyists, Western governments, and news media.”

The piece goes on to give clear statistics provided by the United Nations, from 2008 to 2020, comparing the number of Palestinian casualties with Israeli ones. The numbers show a clear disparity. 

“United Nations Ambassador for Palestine, Riyad Mansour, responded to much of the world’s reaction succinctly,” writes Cininni, “saying, ‘History for some media and politicians starts when Israelis are killed. Our people endure one deadly year after another.’”

A year into the genocide, a collective feeling of despair and depression was felt amongst activists, as the possibility of a ceasefire seemed farther than ever, and death tolls rose every day. That’s when most people would either opt out of doing anything at all, letting helplessness take the reins, or try even harder to find a  tangible way to help. Cininni chose the latter. 

“I didn’t hear about ISM before,” he told The Daily. “About a year into the genocide, a lot of people felt this kind of collective depression of hearing about another genocide happening, specifically a Western-backed genocide, which means that we’re all kind of culpable, like our societies are very much more culpable. In this case, there are conditions as to why we might feel more culpable than other things, because it’s your governments that are actually actively arming [Israel’s] government to do these actions. And so I did feel that there was a sense of powerlessness.”

Cininni then stumbled upon an interview on the left-wing podcast TruAnon with Daniel Santiago, a US citizen who was shot by an IDF soldier in Nablus, while volunteering with Faz3a, a Palestinian-led initiative providing on-the-ground civil protection from Israeli violence based in the West Bank.

“When I listened to that episode, I was like, wait, you can actually go down there. You can actually do stuff, you can have an action,” he says. “You can actually do something against this [genocide]. And even though it’s the West Bank, it’s not in Gaza; that’s a different type of activism that you will have to participate in that’s a lot harder to get, but in the West Bank, there’s still a lot going on. Israel has no rhetorical justification for what it’s doing in the West Bank. There is no Hamas there. What are [the IOF] doing? Why are they terrorizing a civilian population that explicitly just wants to live a normal life on the land that they have lived in for generations? What’s the justification there? Why?”

“And so I heard about this [opportunity] and I kind of find it funny, because I think that a lot of people would be like, what you heard this guy got shot doing it and like, that’s what made you go, but for me, it was just like, oh, here’s an opportunity for direct action, and as someone who’s kind of skeptical of a lot of Western activism, I find it’s harder to find stuff that is actually super practical.” 

Cininni applied to join Faz3a. But by the time his application went through, the organization  had ceased its operations and was not taking on any more volunteers. That’s when Faz3a  referred him to the ISM.

“I emailed [ISM] in early winter of 2025,” he mentions , “and did my onboarding in a hotel room in April, while I was in Newfoundland with my girlfriend. It was like two hours, and during those two hours, you learn about what [the organization] does, and some of the risks [of being a volunteer]. There’s a lot of talk about the cultural sensitivities that you have to be aware of. [The Palestinian people] are not looking for Western cultural kinds of colonialism. They’re not looking for Western feminism either, which could be something that happens in [other] Muslim countries. Essentially, they’re saying that you have to know what you’re here for. Palestinians are actively asking Westerners and people from all over the world to come here to show solidarity. Presence. They’re asking for our assistance and for our participation.” 

Cininni told the Daily that the onboarding process was heavy with information as a way to triage the volunteers and assess who was willing to stay on. Once the ISM presented a clearer idea of the mission, they dove into the training sessions. One was virtual, and the other on the ground in Ramallah. 

“By October, I flew to the Levant,” he added. “I flew to London, then to Jordan, crossed the border, made it into Palestine, and I did my training in Ramallah, which was pretty heavy and detailed. They were like two eight-hour days, and one happened to last 12 hours. We were all in a group house, sleeping on mattresses on the floor.”  

Along with the onboarding and training sessions, Cininni’s experience with the ISM also included lessons on what to expect once he was  on the ground and how to be prepared for any scenario. As activists volunteering for a Palestinian-led organization, they were not the most well-liked in the West Bank by the Israeli Occupation Forces. 

“I had to learn a lot about phone hygiene,” Cininni says. “How to use Signal, how to use encrypted software to message each other, how to use aliases. We had to learn how to make ourselves as untrackable as possible. I learned a lot about weapons, tear gas, and what weapons might be used, what to look for. You want to look at a soldier’s hand, if the safety [on their gun] is on, if they’ve got their finger on the trigger. That is the extent of the violence there.” 

Cininni went  on to commend ISM’s consensus-based process, thinking of it almost like a direct democracy. Dynamic, intra-group discussions, and encouragement to share ideas were key to making their mission a success. It helped with the learning process, Cininni found, and bonded the volunteers in the face of serious risk of injury. 

“The thing is, you don’t know what it’s like out there. It’s like a lottery,” he says. “One person from Canada had her ribs broken by the IOF…I was not subject to any violence because I was lucky, but I did see some people get grabbed at a protest in Nur Shams Camp in Tulkaram. At one point at this protest, the IOF came from behind and took some international [volunteers] and basically brought them to their side, checked their passports, went through their stuff, and interrogated them.” 

While the ISM does assess and take into account one’s risk tolerance to protect its members, volunteers have no absolute guarantee of safety. 

“It’s not every man for himself, because as an organization, we have each other’s backs,” Cinninni says. “But I would say, you can’t really [proclaim] you’re in an organization because Israel doesn’t really want us there. It puts a target on your back eventually. Israel does not want human rights activists there.”

In spite of the dangers he faced, including almost being held at gunpoint, Cininni looks back quite fondly on his experience in the West Bank.

“I’m a pretty seasoned traveller,” he says. “I’ve been to four continents, and I found that the Palestinian population was the most accommodating. It does not even compare. They go above and beyond, they are so generous, so nice to talk to, and so friendly. I had nothing but good experiences with Palestinians.”

He praises Palestine’s beauty, from its land to its people, while also appreciating the community he built there with his fellow volunteers, and the sense of accomplishment he felt. 

“It’s very nice to feel like some activism is actually making real strides and real difference, and people are working together and not splitting up and policing each other too much,” he says. “Which I think is what we hear regularly through the media. It seemed like people were really active and tried to work together and have a good time, and I think it’s one of those paradoxes, where everything’s so stressful, everything’s so bleak.”

A volunteer’s attempt to make the best out of a stressful, dangerous situation bears a striking resemblance to the Palestinian reality. The country is beautiful, full of kind, generous people, but the looming occupation deprives them of all the joys their surroundings bring — and so Palestinians make the best with what is offered.

“It’s pretty inspiring to see that there’s a lot of people who do care, in the face of everything,” Cininni adds, “and are willing to go to this extent, to fly to a pretty dangerous place and to do this kind of work. It gave me a lot more confidence in a lot of ways, and it made me personally want to do more of this type of work.” 

The International Solidarity Movement is always looking for volunteers from across the globe. A registration form can be found on their website. 

The post On the Ground in the West Bank: A Testimony with Giancarlo Cininni appeared first on The McGill Daily.

What does “home” mean to you? 

Is it a person? Where you have lived for decades? Where you were born? 

And what if home was something you could not return to, but carry with you always? 

Such is the sentiment of Yasmeen, “Yas” Kanaan’s most recent exhibition, Carrying Home. Through her art, Kanaan recounted a beautiful story of belonging, the passing down of culture, and resistance. She derives stylistic inspiration from renowned Palestinian artists like the late Ismail Shammout and Sliman Mansour.

This interview has been edited for clarity and conciseness. 

The Daily spoke to Kanaan about her exhibition’s theme: “For me, art is a form of culture. And culture is a form of preserving identity, and preserving identity is a form of resistance against oppression. So basically, art is my tool and that’s how I chose the theme for this exhibition.” 

Kanaan is a Palestinian artist with a bachelor’s degree in Visual Arts from the University of Jordan and a master’s degree in Art History from Concordia University. From a very early age, she learned to conceptualize and express her feelings on a canvas. She admired artists like Palestinian political cartoonist, Naji al Ali, best known for his famous caricature Handalah; Kanaan’s patriotism for Palestine drew the attention of her high school teacher. 

“When I was very young, my passion used to come out as anger, and frustration,” she says. “And then I had a teacher, a genuinely good teacher, the type that changes your life, who told me that passion without direction is kind of useless. He taught me how to turn my passion into an educational tool, into something useful for society. And that’s when I unlocked, and started thinking how can art be used as a way to tell a story?” 

After graduating from Concordia University, Kanaan worked as an art historian for six years before applying herself to painting again. 

“Being an art historian and art curator takes me down a different path, and gives me a different perspective on the arts than being an artist,” she says. [But] “ I still have so much to offer as an artist. So I chose to go back to it. And the first painting that I did is the watermelon piece.” 

Long live the Watermelon (2025) is one of the pieces featured in Carrying Home. It shows two watermelons, one cut up in 3 different pieces, ready to be served, and another ripe for the taking, with a beautiful background showcasing embroidery patterns that are anything but random. These patterns are inspired by Kanaan’s mother’s Palestinian embroidery designs, called tatreez, which was the artist’s first love. It was her way of incorporating the importance of passing down heritage and culture, as well as preserving memory – the core themes of her exhibition. 

“My heritage and my art were never separated,” she says. “That’s kind of my automatic identity. 
Every single element in my pieces is part of my everyday life. Even the embroidery pieces, they’re reminiscent of my mother’s jacket that I wear.” Another example Kanaan cites is the frame piece, which she calls “the most important art piece in the exhibit.” “There’s nothing inside it, and it’s over like 60 years old and lived through different exiles from different cities. It was with my family during the Naksa, [also known as the Six Days War of 1967, and] now in Montreal. So, this is part of my identity. It’s carrying home.”  

The theme was also heavily inspired by Palestinian writer Ghassan Kanafani’s novel, Return to Haifa, which dealt with questions centering around the idea and definition of home. 

“What is home?” Kanaan asks. “Is it the table that’s been there for so many years that became part of the furniture of the house? Is it the language? What is the concept of a home? What is [its definition]? The answer in the book is ‘the will.’ It had an impact on me because I’m also a traveller. Wherever I go, I have my baggage, my home is my bag…It’s no longer a physical place. It’s a collection of traditions, values, recipes, clothing and embroidery, altogether in a bag.”

To be featured in the 11th edition of Montreal’s Filministes Festival was very significant to Kanaan. 

The Filministes Festival is an annual film festival organizing discussions on contemporary feminist issues in Montreal through the screening of cinematographic works, which began in 2015. The festival promotes films and directors from here and abroad, while creating spaces for discussion and reflection for audiences of all kinds. Ultimately, its specificity lies in bridging feminism and cinema.

“This feminist festival is really going for it, and is supportive of otherwise controversial topics,” Kanaan says, “especially in the current context and political climate, where there’s so much anti-immigrant hate. There’s currently a lot of people and policies fueling hate against Arabs [and] Muslims. But the people that I worked with at the festival are very supportive, alhamdulillah.”

“I feel like a lot of feminists like to carry the idea of feminism without actually incorporating the values,” Kanaan continues. “It’s become like a commercial motto for a lot of women because it doesn’t make sense for someone to be a feminist and not take into account causes like the genocide in Sudan, or in Palestine, yet defend someone like Taylor Swift. When it comes to justice, they forget all about feminism. For me, it’s very feminist of me to choose the topic of Palestinian identity as a woman. And even if I wasn’t a woman. I think the cause of Palestine should be directly affiliated with feminism.” 

The Festival Filministes opened its doors from March 4 to March 14, with Carrying Home available for viewing from opening night to March 9. 

For any and all future exhibitions by Yas Kanaan, you can follow her Instagram page for updates. 

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