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	<title>Islay Fraser, Author at The McGill Daily</title>
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	<title>Islay Fraser, Author at The McGill Daily</title>
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		<title>Sex Education’s Academic Utopia</title>
		<link>https://www.mcgilldaily.com/2023/10/sex-educations-academic-utopia/</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Islay Fraser]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 23 Oct 2023 12:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Culture]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Film + TV]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[SideFeatured]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[academia]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[sex education]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[toxic positivity]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[tv review]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mcgilldaily.com/?p=64325</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>Cavendish College is not as perfect as it claims to be</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com/2023/10/sex-educations-academic-utopia/">Sex Education’s Academic Utopia</a> appeared first on <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com">The McGill Daily</a>.</p>
]]></description>
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<p>The final season of Netflix’s popular series<em> Sex Education </em>begins a new chapter in the lives of the show’s main characters. Otis (Asa Butterfield) and friends embark on their journey at Cavendish College, a strikingly different academic experience from the gloomy, strict Moordale High. The college seems, at first glance, to be a colourful and welcoming utopia: a green, student-led, overwhelmingly queer campus that doesn’t tolerate gossip. Once you look beneath the surface, however, Cavendish is not nearly as perfect as it seems.</p>



<p>There are no typically stylish, mean, popular kids in <em>Sex Education’</em>s fourth season – but there is still a group of students who “rule the school.” This is the first crack in Cavendish’ facade of perfection. For how can a utopia have any kind of hierarchy? When you imagine an ideal school, you would probably picture everyone on a level playing field, which at first glance, Cavendish seems to embody. However, all this falls apart once we meet the group of students self-proclaimed “the Coven.” Abbi (Anthony Lexa), Roman (Felix Mufti), and Aisha (Alexandra James) are very picky about who they invite into their friend group despite loudly promoting inclusivity in their school and community-related efforts. Moordale’s formerly stereotypically popular Ruby (Mimi Keene) clearly wants to become friends with the Coven. But her previous actions comes back to haunt her as the group throws her previous exclusionary behavior back in her face, making an active effort to exclude her in their social activities. These are not exactly the actions you’d expect from a group so dedicated to “inclusivity.”</p>



<p><br>Another of Cavendish’s purported values is openness to everyone’s opinion, demonstrated by the symbolic podium placed in the school’s foyer that is always available for students to voice their ideas. However, there does not seem to be any system in place to take note of or actually implement what students have to say; it is as though speeches are forgotten as soon as students step off the stage. It is not clear how student government or elections work, but it is implied that only those in the Coven can vote on and adopt important campus decisions. Although Cavendish claims to be a democratic student-led campus, the reality is that only a fraction of its students’ thoughts are actually being taken into consideration.</p>



<p><br>The friendly and overly optimistic environment that welcomes us at Cavendish can also be read as toxic positivity. It is not realistic or healthy to be happy all the time, despite whatever utopian ideals full of rainbows and sunshine might tell us. The “no negative talk” rule enforced by Abbi throughout the season prevents the friend group from discussing important feelings and issues, and ultimately (and unsurprisingly) leads to resentment and argument. Toxic positivity is one of the issues the characters directly address by the end of the season, as they come to realize that Cavendish College can never realistically be a utopia, but only a work-in-progress.</p>



<p><br>Another utopian aspect of the campus is its full, unquestionable acceptance of queer students. But this level of progress brings our attention to another marginalized group at Cavendish who do not experience the same acceptance. Disability rights are highlighted this season, rights which have only recently begun to be considered as widely as queer rights have. Although Cavendish seems amazing on so many fronts, one of its biggest flaws is its accessibility issues. It seems unrealistic that in this utopian setting, the only way for people with mobility issues to access floors other than the ground level is a faulty elevator, given the school’s seemingly excess funds. While the foyer boasts of comfortable seating, the classrooms still use typical chair-desk combinations in one size only, which poses problems for disabled people. In addition, despite the school’s generous use of technology in all other departments, there are no tools or aids in place for people who are deaf or hard-of-hearing. These accessibility issues are one of the only problems openly acknowledged by the students, who stage a protest to get the elevator fixed and replaced. Protests are part of revolution, and revolution is required to create change; we must break the system in place before rebuilding a new, utopian one. This protest, therefore, is another indication of a rejection of Cavendish’s utopian narrative. By protesting, the students are acknowledging that their school is not perfect yet, but they are trying their best to make it so.</p>



<p><br>There are many reminders that Cavendish College is a green campus; everyone bikes to school, they have a strict compost and recycling system, they don’t use paper, etc. These actions make their own school a less polluted space but will not do much to help the global climate crisis. After all, a utopia cannot survive independent of the world around it. Corporations <a href="https://time.com/6048162/exxonmobil-climate-change/">have historically encouraged individuals</a> to pursue greener actions to help fight climate change, while they continue emitting tons of greenhouse gas emissions every year. The fact that Cavendish promotes small green actions without acknowledging the systemic causes of climate catastrophe shows that the campus is not a utopia, but rather a world of climate change denial and inaction.</p>



<p><br>This is not to say that individuals should not create change in their own lives and commit to a healthier lifestyle. But it is important to remember to be critical when an institution, like<em> Sex Education</em>’s Cavendish College, calls themselves “inclusive, diverse, and ecologically responsible.” It is harmful to promote a safe space while glossing over underlying issues; to work towards creating a utopia, we must acknowledge and fix problems, not ignore them. The most realistic part of Cavendish, in my opinion, is that young people are aware of and find solutions for systemic discrimination and disrespect. The only truly utopian part of Cavendish is that young people are actually listened to, and their ideas are fully implemented to create a place where they actually want to be. To me, this kind of world is the true utopia.</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com/2023/10/sex-educations-academic-utopia/">Sex Education’s Academic Utopia</a> appeared first on <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com">The McGill Daily</a>.</p>
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			</item>
		<item>
		<title>Books Required for My Literature Degree That You Should Actually Read</title>
		<link>https://www.mcgilldaily.com/2023/10/books-required-for-my-literature-degree-that-you-should-actually-read/</link>
		
		<dc:creator><![CDATA[Islay Fraser]]></dc:creator>
		<pubDate>Mon, 02 Oct 2023 12:00:00 +0000</pubDate>
				<category><![CDATA[Books]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Culture]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[Book recommendations]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[literature]]></category>
		<category><![CDATA[non-canon classics]]></category>
		<guid isPermaLink="false">https://www.mcgilldaily.com/?p=64183</guid>

					<description><![CDATA[<p>Highlights from “non-canon” academic reading lists</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com/2023/10/books-required-for-my-literature-degree-that-you-should-actually-read/">Books Required for My Literature Degree That You Should Actually Read</a> appeared first on <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com">The McGill Daily</a>.</p>
]]></description>
										<content:encoded><![CDATA[
<p>Common criticisms of “canon” scholarly reading lists include the following: they are only composed of works from ancient, stuffy men, they include only Euro-centric perspectives, and they completely ignore intersectionality. But I have been lucky. During my undergraduate degree in English and French literature at Mount Allison University, my professors pushed boundaries, including a variety of genders, races, nationalities, and literary periods in their reading lists. We did, of course, read authors from the “canon” like Henry James, T. S. Eliot, and Albert Camus – but we also read France Daigle, Dionne Brand, and Alison Bechdel.</p>



<p>Here, I have assembled a list of some of the books required for my degree that I genuinely believe everyone would benefit from reading. These books are powerful, thought-provoking, well-written, and more accessible to the general public than the academic “classics” might be.</p>



<p><strong><em>Americanah </em></strong><strong>by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie</strong></p>



<p>This book was on the reading list for an introductory class to prose literature. Adichie is a Nigerian feminist writer also known for her activism. <em>Americanah</em> narrates the challenges Ifemelu, a Nigerian woman, faces living in North America, from places to get her hair done to (in)visibility in a predominantly white society and culture. The characters are complex and deep; their internal emotional conflicts lift off the page to haunt the reader.</p>



<p><strong><em>I Place You into the Fire </em></strong><strong>by Rebecca Thomas</strong></p>



<p>I read this poetry collection for a spectacular seminar called Local Literature and Diversity. Immediately after finishing it, I rushed to post this review on my Instagram story: “Go read this book right now!!! <em>I Place You into the Fire</em> is an amazing poetry collection by Mi’kmaq poet Rebecca Thomas about love, hurt, and accountability. A call to action for settlers!” I could reread this collection for years and get something new out of it every time. It draws attention to the inner workings and issues of colonialism, capitalism, and environmental and social justice through its powerful words.</p>



<p><strong><em>L’avenir </em>(<em>The Future</em>) by Catherine Leroux</strong></p>



<p>This novel, available in French and English, combines the story of a woman trying to uncover the truth about the tragedy that separated her family and the life of a community of children living in the forest. I loved this novel so much that I wrote this informal review on my Instagram story: “I just finished reading <em>L’avenir</em> by Catherine Leroux for one of my French classes. The story is WONDERFUL and the characters are strange and there are so many allusions and the writing is beautiful! My head is exploding because this book exists *heart eye emoji* *crying emoji* Actually crying. READ READ READ!!!” A much more controlled review might say that this is a wonderful and complicated story about unique and intertwined characters. Leroux includes perfectly subtle allusions, and her writing is absolutely beautiful.</p>



<p><strong><em>Moon of the Crusted Snow </em></strong><strong>by Waubgeshig Rice</strong></p>



<p>This book was an important part of the class Introduction to Canadian Literature, in which the words “Canadian” and “literature” were both challenged by the reading list. Rice, an Anishinaabe author from Wasauksing First Nation, tells the story of an Indigenous community that becomes completely cut off from the rest of the (colonized) world when the power goes out and never comes back on. It is full of Indigenous wisdom and an overwhelming sense of community during a crisis. This novel is a comment on capitalism, but, more importantly, it is about the value of family and community.</p>



<p><strong><em>The Overstory </em></strong><strong>by Richard Powers</strong></p>



<p>I read this novel for the most amazing seminar called Ecofiction of the Forest. Here is my review on <em>The StoryGraph</em>: “I don’t even know how to review this book. I don’t know if I’ll ever fully process it. Just—the incredible world of trees. Activism. The complex and intertwining stories of eight people. Just read it.” I learned so much about trees and forests scientifically as well as symbolically over the course of this class, and <em>The Overstory </em>summarizes much of that knowledge. Fantastically well-written, this story will give you access to the magical world of trees.</p>



<p><strong><em>Funny Boy </em></strong><strong>by Shyam Selvadurai</strong></p>



<p>This book was one of many that I read for the course Queer Literature in Canada. It is about a Sri Lankan boy coming to terms with his sexuality while experiencing the traumatic and unpredictable events during and leading up to the 1983 Colombo riots. Although Selvadurai is queer and Sri Lankan like his main character, the story is not autobiographical. Besides teaching non-Sri Lankan readers about a life and culture very different from their own, this story is full of emotion, earnestness, and truth that is relatable to a wide range of people. In my opinion, this book’s heart is what earns it its timelessness.</p>



<p><strong><em>The Dispossessed </em></strong><strong>by Ursula K. Le Guin</strong></p>



<p>I read this novel for the coolest Utopian Literature seminar. Le Guin does incredible world-building for this utopia-in-progress. There is plenty of insight concerning philosophy, physics, and politics, as well as really interesting revolutionary ideas and perspectives on capitalism and anarchism. We focused a lot on anti-capitalism, decolonization, and the process of creating a utopia in this class, so Le Guin’s book was a perfect fit. As a science-fiction novel, this story allows us to view our world from an outsider’s perspective and learn about the revolution needed to make change.</p>



<p><strong>Honorable Mention: “Gentle Now, Don’t Add to Heartache” by Juliana Spahr</strong></p>



<p>Although not a book, I had to share this poem that I read for two different classes: Literature from the 1800s to Present and Romantic Ecology. This is most definitely one of my favourite poems of all time. There is a natural arc to its story, and the rhythm flows in harmony with the river it describes. Spahr’s narration of our beginning, our connection with the land, and how some of us have ruptured that connection through capitalism and individualism is absolutely beautiful. You’ll also learn some cool names for flora and fauna!</p>
<p>The post <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com/2023/10/books-required-for-my-literature-degree-that-you-should-actually-read/">Books Required for My Literature Degree That You Should Actually Read</a> appeared first on <a href="https://www.mcgilldaily.com">The McGill Daily</a>.</p>
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