When I saw that the McGill Food and Dining Services website described the Vietnamese food offered at Vihn’s Café as “ethnic delights,” I was shocked. Why didn’t they just refer to it as Vietnamese food? It’s not as if pho noodles are so ‘foreign’ and ‘exotic’ in U.S. and Canada. The use of “ethnic delights” disturbs me because it indicates a broader problem related to using terms like ‘ethnic,’ ‘foreign,’ and ‘alien’ to describe people and cultures that don’t belong to the dominant white culture in Canada and the U.S.. It reinforces the assumption that this culture is the norm.

The word ‘ethnic’ is a political term used to alienate cultures that do not conform to the dominant one; it essentializes non-white cultures as abnormal. When we describe a non-white cultural product as ‘ethnic,’ we are effectively creating an ‘us versus them’ dynamic. Calling food, fashion, or anything else ‘ethnic’ is code for saying that minority groups are strange or exotic. Although those who use the word may not mean anything by it, it’s still harmful.

The word ‘ethnic’ is a political term used to alienate cultures that do not conform to the dominant one; it essentializes non-white cultures as abnormal.

Exocitizing cultures in this way is commonplace, yet this normalization is what leads to tokenization, hostility and – further down the line – racist immigration laws and institutionalized discrimination. Using the word ‘ethnic’ is a gross oversimplification of the diversity of cultures and traditions in U.S. and Canada. And for people who belong to cultures outside the norm, the word is dehumanizing. For myself, when I see my own culture trivialized by white Canadian and American norms, I feel that my culture and identity are inferior – something of which to be ashamed.

This is internalized racism, and it causes people to erase their own identities in order to assimilate and survive. In this way, white norms are insidious – they swallow non-white identities and spew them back out as watered-down, trivialized, bite-sized ‘ethnicity.’ They also force people to internalize these cultural norms, which then alienate them from their own culture. No one is technically forcing anyone to conform to the prevailing culture, but people find themselves changing who they are because it is too painful to be an outlier in a society that only pays lip-service to multiculturalism.

This is why growing up in the U.S. and Canada is hard when you’re not part of the dominant culture. I don’t necessarily identify as being East Asian, but I’m forced to take on that identity because of how I look. I’m forced into recognizing the fact that I look ‘ethnic,’ even though that’s not how I feel. I’ve spent my whole life in Canada and the U.S., my first language is English, yet people still ask me if I’m from China. I’m not. I’m pushed into accepting an East Asian identity, because of how I look – even though it feels alien to me. Why can’t I be American and Korean at the same time, and not have to sacrifice cultural diversity?

No one is technically forcing anyone to conform to the prevailing culture, but people find themselves changing who they are because it is too painful to be an outlier in a society that only pays lip-service to multiculturalism.

Whether or not assimilation happens voluntarily, it’s easier to conform to the dominant culture rather than struggle with identity issues and try to figure out how you fit into your community. So when I encounter casual use of the term ‘ethnic,’ I’m reminded of all these confusing identity struggles, and how different I am from the so-called norm.

That’s why the phrase “ethnic delights” when referring to food from Vihn’s Café is such an ugly reminder that non-white cultures are treated as unfamiliar, foreign, and inherently different. European food isn’t othered in this way, which says a lot. I often see people explicitly distinguishing between European food, whether it be Italian, Greek, French, or anything else. Italian and Greek food are rarely referred to under the same category as ‘Mediterranean food,’ and when they are, this narrow definition most likely does not include Libyan or Egyptian food. Foods from European countries are referred to by their proper name, whereas ‘ethnic’ foods are grouped together under a non-white blob that implies something spicy and foreign. This is only one example; however, it exemplifies the kind of racial essentialism that alienates cultural identities and erases cultural self-determination.

The word ‘ethnic’ is a barrier to non-white cultures being accepted in U.S and Canada. It’s the line that denotes the end of European comfort zone, the end of familiarity, the end of all things white. The word ‘ethnic’ is a reflexive othering mechanism that stems from underlying racist structures. It props up the dehumanization and stereotyping of entire groups of people, creating the illusion that people from ‘ethnic’ backgrounds are somehow all the same, or that they lack complexity. It’s time we stopped using it, and start referring to people and their cultures in the ways they prefer.

Isabel Lee is a U2 Political Science and Philosophy student. To reach her, please email isabel.lee@mail.mcgill.ca.

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In January, I was sexually assaulted. It was difficult to accept what had happened and even more difficult to say it out loud. I told my friends that I was harassed, but I didn’t start using the term “sexual assault” until later when I could begin to process the truth. I realized that sexual assault is any form of unwanted sexual advance that is brought about through force and can cause physical, mental, or emotional abuse. Calling sexual assault by its true name would have meant that I was a victim, and that would have made the events too real.

To my bewilderment and anger, what had happened apparently wasn’t a big deal to the person who violated my privacy and autonomy, because in some fucked up idea of “chivalry,” they asked me out to a concert the next day. But for me, my pre-existing fear of men skyrocketed and I couldn’t even get into an elevator with a man without feeling afraid. I couldn’t sleep, I most definitely couldn’t keep up with my course work, and I even ended up failing a class.

After months of mental and emotional anguish, I realized that pursuing legal action against the perpetrator would give me closure and security. However, I still felt vulnerable and afraid to act on my own. The thought of recounting my experience to a judge was unthinkable, I called the Sexual Assault Centre of the McGill Students’ Society (SACOMSS) drop-in line and asked if I could receive any legal advice or be accompanied to the police station to fill out a report. I was denied support because SACOMSS only offers therapeutic aid. SACOMSS then referred me to the McGill Legal Information Clinic, which, it turns out, doesn’t offer advice in criminal cases.

Sexual assault is the only crime where the presumption of innocence takes precedence over the crime itself.

I was beyond furious that no one at McGill could offer me any of the support I needed. I couldn’t believe that the onus was on me – the victim and survivor – to pursue putting a sexual assault perpetrator in jail or at least under investigation. Making the victim responsible for their own rights, and making sure their aggressors are punished, forces them to be strong when they’re vulnerable. It forces them to relive their experience and asks them to prove the legitimacy of their trauma.

Last week, I found out that the McGill administration responded with lightning speed in suspending a student athlete from the football team who had been had been charged with assault – while dawdling passively after three McGill football players were charged with sexual assault in 2012. I became very upset and began to question why I even attended this institution, one that is supposed to guarantee me a safe space to learn. I remembered the loneliness I felt when I was denied support from McGill and realized that my safety was not the University’s priority.

The McGill administration does not take sexual assault seriously. This is a problem that not only affects those who have experienced sexual assault like I have – it also enforces rape culture and creates the precedent that equity is just another bureaucratic box that can be checked. So far, all actions regarding social issues have been student-led, while McGill has been dragging its feet. This is not okay. I am done with feeling like a victim and what I want now is for the McGill administration to take a hard look at itself and realize that their shortcomings have real consequences on real people.

I was beyond furious that no one at McGill could offer me any of the support I needed. I couldn’t believe that the onus was on me – the victim and survivor – to pursue putting a sexual assault perpetrator in jail or at least under investigation.

Regarding the three McGill student athletes who were charged with sexual assault in 2012, taking no action is unacceptable. Allowing the three men to stay on the football team is unacceptable. Hiring one of them at a McGill summer camp for children is unacceptable. While we must respect the presumption of innocence before someone is proven guilty, we must also change the focus of the issue from the perpetrator to the victim. We must make ourselves as accessible as possible for victims to feel safe.

The first section of the Guide to Varsity Athletics for Student-Athletes states that it is committed to representing McGill’s ethical ideals. It then goes on to “[caution] all varsity student-athletes about what they post on their social media profiles, including inappropriate photos,” and states that “varsity student-athletes are subject to sanctions if their profiles are found to contain inappropriate images, sexual content, as well as references to underage drinking or illegal drug use.”

So, McGill athletes can be sanctioned for posting inappropriate content on Facebook, but receive no disciplinary punishment for committing sexual assault, a crime that leaves the victim traumatized for the rest of their life, which no form of compensation can make better.

After the recent assault incident, the McGill administration released a statement on September 26, stating that “the recurrence of these incidents demands an in-depth review of our rules and regulations governing participation in varsity sports,” and that “we neither tolerate violence on campus nor behaviours that are contrary to the values and principles of our community.” It has been years now since the three McGill football players were charged with assaulting a woman and the varsity guidelines still haven’t changed.

So far, all actions regarding social issues have been student-led, while McGill has been dragging its feet. This is not okay.

If having an irresponsible social media presence constitutes grounds for punishment, then being charged with sexual assault is a definite ground for suspension from extracurricular activities. Sexual assault is the only crime where the presumption of innocence takes precedence over the crime itself. This is the only kind of crime where people will question the validity and legitimacy of the victim’s claims in order to protect a perpetrator. Questions like: “Are you sure that happened?” or “Was it really sexual assault?” are not asked after any other violent crime. Allowing these McGill men to continue participating in varsity sports is not a privilege they deserve. Accusations of sexual assault need to be taken just as seriously as armed robbery and aggravated assault. In the case of sexual assault, McGill is trying its best to protect the presumption of innocence of the perpetrators, whereas in the case of assault, McGill took immediate action, showing us that it thinks that one sort of violence is more legitimate and damaging than the other.

The administration needs to step up and take responsibility. Instead of trying to hide these incidents, McGill needs to create a campus-wide sexual assault policy that protects survivors and offers the proper resources to help them. It also needs to enforce preventative measures by teaching people what sexual assault is and why it happens. The people that are affected by sexual assault are real people, and to deny the experience of victims and survivors is to deny their right to feel safe. McGill is responsible for ensuring a safe space for its students. As a powerful institution, it has the ability to, at the very least, provide aid to those it has failed. Instead, McGill refuses to recognize these failures, perhaps in the hope that they will simply fade away. For survivors, however, they remain all too real.

Isabel Lee is an AUS Equity Commissioner. To contact her, please email equity.aus@mail.mcgill.ca.

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