The Rohingya are a Muslim minority in Burma who are Indigenous to the land, but have experienced generations of persecution and violence. For this reason, hundreds of thousands have fled to many countries including Bangladesh, Malaysia, and Canada.

In I Am Rohingya, the protagonists create a play based on their own and their families’ experiences fleeing Burma within the past decade. These experiences range from a three-year-old seeing her best friend get shot, to a family travelling by foot to the Bangladesh border. The screening was followed by a live Q&A with the director, one of the Rohingya actors, Ahmed Ullah, and a student of Buddhism who uses interfaith work as a tool for activism, Michelle McDonald.

Western news outlets have only recently started to cover the oppression of Rohingya people, even though the issue has been ongoing for over a century.

The film opens with the first rehearsal for the play and spans the following eight months, leading up to the opening night. The documentary mixes scenes of play rehearsals with historical information about the settlement of the Rohingya in Burma and their conditions in 2017. At the end, the film showcases the play itself. Switching between history and the process of putting the play together created a dialogue between the past and the present. In this sense, the oppression of the Rohingya is shown as both a historical fact and an emotional portrayal of human suffering.

The beginning sequence shows what information a Google search of ‘Rohingya’ gives. In .65 seconds, 21,300,000 results pop up, primarily recent news sources with horrific images and various think-pieces from Canadian and American journalists. Western news outlets have only recently started to cover the oppression of Rohingya people, even though the issue has been ongoing for over a century, and when it comes to reporting the situation, there is much misinformation and doubt concerning the validity of the coverage. Many countries, international organizations, and media sources are still hesitant to refer to the situation as a “genocide,” and those that do are labelled as false and untrustworthy by extremist Buddhist nationalists. Rarely does one learn about the Rohingya from an actual Rohingya person, and therefore most sources lack the full story. This theme is present throughout the film and sets up the importance of the play as an opportunity for some Rohingya people to reclaim their own narrative. The play’s script was written entirely from the accounts of the 14 Rohingya people, making them the tellers of their own stories.

Sympathy and solidarity with the Rohingya is minimal and the Western world’s Islamophobia has made world leaders complicit in this genocide.

Zine is not himself Rohingya, and described his experience of directing the film and play as an outsider, saying that he felt he had no place dictating how Rohingya people should tell their own stories. The documentary showed the careful balancing act between a theatre professional guiding a project featuring inexperienced actors, and his ensuring that the play remains the creation and the perspective of the Rohingya youth. During the Q&A session, Zine explained that, due to the nature of the project and his place in the conversation, he had to veer away from traditional Western theatre practices such as the idea that “the director is the boss and the script is untouchable.” Indeed, the play script changed from day to day, which Zine described as unthinkable to many in the theatre community. Yet, that was inevitable here, as the show was not the vision of a director but the telling of the story of the Rohingya people.

Although the documentary does not delve deeply into the religious strife between Muslims and Buddhists in Burma, it touched on how stereotypes about these religions affect the global perspective of the genocide. Sympathy and solidarity with the Rohingya is minimal and the Western world’s Islamophobia has made world leaders complicit in this genocide. In contrast, Buddhists are generally depicted as peaceful and nonviolent, and so are most in the film. It was very important to Zine, Ullah, and the rest of the crew to not paint an anti-Buddhist picture. Zine revealed that an effort to find Buddhist supporters of the Rohingya was made, but ultimately with no luck. One of the interviews for the documentary showed a Toronto-based Buddhist leader claiming that “Rohingya do not exist.”

Many countries, international organizations, and media sources are still hesitant to refer to the situation as a “genocide.”

The end of the film presents a duality between relief and tragedy. The actors perform their play to a sold out venue, finding confidence and solidarity with one another in the process. However, these sequences of hugging teenagers and proud parents is juxtaposed with footage of massacre, looting, and the burning down of Rohingya villages in Burma. These conflicting sentiments fuel the film’s overall call to action: to act in solidarity with the Rohingya against genocide. Before the screening, Zine told the audience, “once you watch this film, you will become a witness to genocide, and there comes a duty with that.” Many of the Rohingya youth are now activists, speaking at the United Nations and meeting with politicians. The documentary highlights its hopes that the next generation will be the leaders of change and tells the audience that they must act.

I Am Rohingya’s website provides the following information on how to get involved: “some of the organizations [that you can donate to or volunteer at] include: the UNHCR, Doctors Without Borders, World Food Program, BRAC, Action Against Hunger, UNICEF, and Islamic Relief. You can also call or message your local member of parliament, senator, or representative to question them on what your government is doing to condemn violence and support the Rohingya refugees.”

I Am Rohingya is available to stream on iamrohingyafilm.com.

The post I Am a Witness to Genocide appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Rooted in Black history and struggle, hip-hop and rap music are not just cohesive with messages of social justice, but are also direct products of the fight against injustice.

“Rap Battles Against Sexual Violence,” an event organized by Rap Battles for Social Justice, took place on September 28. Rap Battles for Social Justice is an organization founded in 2015 by Dan Parker. The event served as a fundraiser, and a platform to have conversations about sexual violence with an intersectional perspective. The event tried to centre voices that are usually marginalized in public events and emphasized accessibility. There was a designated wheelchair-accessible area in the front row, and listeners prepared to support those who may need to process trauma or any kind of emotional stress present at the venue. Performers with all different backgrounds, life experiences, and messages were encouraged to bring their individual musical vibes to the event. Having only lived in Montreal for a little over a month, I could tell that there was something special going on, for even I could already recognize some artists. In fact, Rap Battles Against Sexual Violence is an active part of the grassroots network of activists doubling as rappers and hip-hop artists in Montreal.

A few days after the show, I had the opportunity to sit down with two performers from the event, Shades Lawrence and Ashanti “Backxwash” Mutinta, as well as two coordinators for Rap Battles for Social Justice, V-shan Charamis and Taliba Maude. From each conversation, I discovered similar themes that encompass the local rap-activist scene: the importance of Montreal as the setting for this movement, the mandate of inclusivity in the community, and the nature of hip-hop and rap being complementary to the cause.

“Music, when done right, connects to people’s hearts in a way that academic talk doesn’t always do.” – Shades Lawrence

On Montreal being an important setting for social change, Lawrence said, “one thing that I think makes [the Montreal hip-hop scene] really unique is our social justice consciousness. I think a lot of artists here talk about causes and issues that are incredibly close to their hearts.” Whether you believe this is a feature specific to Montreal’s music, or generally the case for most city-based rap scenes, Lawrence’s statement holds true. If you look at some of the city’s biggest rappers, their lyrics and messages are largely both socially conscious and extremely personal. Lawrence herself explores themes of globalization, colonialism, and the right to water in her song “Formidable Time.” She raps, “I was bought and sold/auction blocked and told/to forget my name/I was brought to the fold.”

Montreal itself boasts cultural, social, and economic diversity. In a study conducted by Nestpick, Montreal was ranked 12th in the world for “Best LGBT Cities in 2017.” Backxwash compliments Montreal’s appreciation of diversity, explaining that “a lot of people here use what everyone else would see as a disadvantage, as an advantage.” She used herself as an example, explaining how being a trans Black woman brings societal disadvantages, but is an important asset to creating her art. Montreal’s diversity of experience brings both a complex system of oppression, as well as pockets of extremely supportive communities working to fight that oppression. This struggle is the heart of Montreal-based music. As Charamis said, “it only makes sense that [Rap Battles for Social Justice] started here in Montreal.”

Another key aspect of organizations like Rap Battles for Social Justice and its counterparts is its openness to collaboration. The Rap Battles Against Sexual Violence show was a collective effort that included Urban Science, LOTUS Collective, and the Concordia Student Union. Lawrence also discussed the overlap between the activist rap scene and the Montreal poetry scene, referencing the group SistersInMotion, a local poetry group which supports and celebrates women and femmes of color. Often musical artists are involved in more than one collective or project, thus solidifying the network of local artists and activists. Backxwash explained, “when you end up working with somebody in one community, it can introduce you to four more people there.”

In Montreal, even within the enclosed radius surrounding the McGill campus, the city has carved out its own spaces that intertwine social justice with hip-hop and rap music.

These groups not only aim to be inclusive for all performers, but also accessible to the public. When describing their mission, Rap Battles for Social Justice uses the phrase “popular education.” Charamis explained it as “for the people and by the people,” where social issues are discussed freely and comprehensively so that it is understandable and useful to the public. The organization offers free hip-hop writing workshops at community centres, prisons, and universities, using music as a vehicle to get messages of inclusivity to the public in accessible ways. Lawrence said, “music, when done right, connects to people’s hearts in a way that academic talk doesn’t always do.”

Rooted in Black history and struggle, hip-hop and rap music are not just cohesive with messages of social justice, but are also direct products of the fight against injustice. Backxwash stated it perfectly: “hip-hop is rebel music,” referencing artists like Public Enemy and Queen Latifah. Beyond rebellion against oppressive systems, music is an important vehicle for change, for education, and for community-building. As Maude said, “it starts out as protest, but through the music, through the creation, it brings you somewhere else. It unifies people.”

The Rap Battles for Social Justice can be found on Facebook. You can find both Shades Lawrence and Backxwash on their respective websites, or look for them on Spotify.

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When we examine the ethical implication of a company that sells something with a “good message,” their impact must be considered alongside their intent. That is to say, it is important to examine where the profits of these supposedly “woke” products go, and how that impacts the company’s original decision to sell that product. For example, the clothing store Forever 21 has begun selling shirts and accessories with the word “feminist” or “girl power” on them, using the mainstreamization of feminism to target a specific market. However, the profit from these products goes directly into the company’s board and shareholders’ pockets.

These companies have recognized that “woke” culture and “trendy” feminism are on the rise, and have updated their rhetoric and branding accordingly.

Forever 21 is one of the 77 Los Angeles garment factories that were under investigation by the US Department of Labor in 2016. This investigation revealed that workers were paid poverty wages, that go from $4 per hour, and average at $7 an hour for 10-hour days, significantly below the minimum wage in California. Although the company may appear to advocate for marginalized groups with their products, they are at the same time exploiting their workers who are predominantly women of colour. This is an instance of a company profiting off of social activism as a trend, and getting directly rewarded for participating in “wokeness” through capital.

However, companies such as Kiddbell, which sells an abundance of clothing and accessories with phrases like “my body my choice” and “Black lives matter” on them, have a more ethical approach. Most of their profits go to help causes and organizations, such as Planned Parenthood, The Center for Reproductive Rights, and The National Domestic Abuse Hotline. This shows that despite being a for-profit company that uses “woke” culture to its advantage, Kiddbell follows through by making some ethical decisions on what they spend their profit on. In “Is feminism trending? Pedagogical approaches to countering (Sl) activism,” Juliann Guillard differentiates between ‘token support’ and ‘meaningful support’ of a cause. She explains that token support takes the form of “online activism – signing an online petition, liking a Facebook post or group, re-tweeting a post, etc.” whereas meaningful support is defined as “consumer contributions that require a significant cost, effort, or behaviour change in ways that make tangible contributions to the cause, such as donating money, time, or skills.” While corporations still uphold an oppressive capitalist system, they sometimes give back to the consumers they profit from by demonstrating a real commitment to some anti-oppressive causes.

Another way to analyze the impact of retail activism is to look directly at the way companies brand themselves.
The sole purpose of advertising and branding is to persuade a target audience to purchase, or otherwise support, a product. Brands focus on appealing to a specific group of consumers that will be able to generate a maximum profit. Once a target audience is identified, the marketing strategies and methods of appeal adapt to it. “Woke people,” especially young socially-conscious millennials, have developed as a demographic financially worthy of being a target audience for many for- profit institutions.

While corporations uphold an oppressive capitalist system, they sometimes give back to the consumers they profit from by demonstrating a real commitment to some anti-oppressive causes.

Teen Vogue is a perfect example of this strategy. The publication was dwindling in sales in 2015, then revamped its image and marketing strategies to be more political and support intersectional feminist views, which became popular amongst their audience. The magazine also now focuses on a digital format, keeping up with its younger readership.
Additionally, Elaine Welteroth was recently named Editor-In-Chief of Teen Vogue at age 29, and is the first African American in the publication’s history to hold such a position. The magazine’s digital editorial director is Phillip Picardi, a 25 year old gay man, who has explicitly referred to the Teen Vogue readership as “woke.” The New York Times reported this shift, referring to Teen Vogue as “the teen’s guide to Trump’s presidency.” This “woke” re-model has proven effective; Teen Vogue’s website got 7.9 million US visitors in January 2017, up from 2.9 million the year before.

Many other companies have turned to a more politically engaged and “woke” message to incur more support and success, though not always done as well. The 2017 Pepsi commercial featuring Kendall Jenner — which was eventually taken down — is an example of profitable “wokeness” that was ill-informed. The commercial showed a protest, clearly inspired by Black Lives Matter and other recent demonstrations in the US, only with marchers holding signs with phrases such as “join the conversation,” and peace symbols, instead of actual political demands. The commercial ends when Kendall Jenner resolves the issue by handing a Pepsi to a police officer who was standing against the protest. The commercial seems to suggests that any white woman with a soft drink can resolve systemic political conflict. The fact that Kendall Jenner is a white woman who often participates in problematic practices such as cultural appropriation is not addressed. Activist DeRay McKesson, who was instrumental in organizing protests in Ferguson following the murder of Michael Brown, said to NBC News, “this ad trivializes the urgency of the issues and it diminishes the seriousness and the gravity of why we got into the street in the first place.”

“Woke people” especially young socially-conscious millennials, have developed as a demographic financially worthy of being a target audience for many for- profit institutions.

Although Teen Vogue and Pepsi both aimed to profit from their participation in “wokeness,” there is a staunch difference between them. Teen Vogue did use their shift to political journalism to gain more success and viewership, but also committed to hiring marginalized people in a range of high-level positions. It is not just a corporation, but a type of news outlet; their product is their message. The Pepsi commercial, however, commodifies and oversimplifies the efforts and struggles of organizations like Black Lives Matter and the Women’s March. The advertisement appropriates social activism for profit. We must remain critical of the exploitation of “woke culture” and of retail activism by corporations as it grows in popularity. This includes Covergirl’s Lash Equality campaign, American Eagle’s #AerieREAL, Dove’s Self-Esteem Project, and many others. Any discussion concerning intent vs. impact is going to be nuanced and not a clear story of “evil vs. good” companies, but where you put your money matters. In a flawed capitalist system, the dollar is power; use it wisely.

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