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.

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.

According to the CBC, 130 Palestinian students admitted to Canadian universities cannot enter Canada due to related administrative barriers. Empty Seats includes written testimonies from four out of five Palestinian scholars admitted to McGill but are currently in bureaucratic limbo, unable to enter Canada; as well as testimonies from McGill faculty members and students expressing solidarity with these Palestinian students. It also includes concrete calls to action.

The project was kickstarted by an article written by Calame and Delafoulhouse in October 2025. The piece, which included interviews with McGill’s Palestinian scholars and members of the Palestinian Scholars and Students At Risk (PSSAR) organization, highlighted the bureaucratic barriers that keep admitted Palestinian scholars from attending on-site school in Montreal. The PSSAR identifies Palestinian scholars and connects them to academic opportunities in Canada. Upon the article’s publication, Associate Professor of Anthropology Diana Allan, who is also the acting faculty liaison for PSSAR at McGill, proposed broadening the project scope to better uncover and uplift these students’ circumstances in hopes of changing them. Subsequently, Professor Allan hosted a zine-making workshop in collaboration with media-maker and activist Stefan Christoff as an extra-credit opportunity for her classes, with interested students encouraged to participate in the zine’s creation. Thus, Empty Seats was born.

The zine format, commonly used for social justice, welcomes academic writing while also centering other valuable sources of knowledge like testimonies, interviews, and artworks. It is also remarkably collaborative and approachable, which was imperative for engaging students regardless of their background and experience in organizing and activism. 

“It was a very McGill student-centred project,” says Louise Deroi, one of Empty Seats’ student organizers, in correspondence with The McGill Daily. Voluntary testimonies were collected from McGill students via a Google Form disseminated via social media and word of mouth, with respondents ranging across year groups and faculties. “A common theme expressed in the [student] testimonies was the disillusionment of and anger at attending a university that doesn’t do more for these students who, despite having submitted an excellent application and having been admitted, have the world pitted against them, which prevents them from being here. Putting the testimonies of the Palestinian scholars and other students and activists side by side shows the [Palestinian] students that they’re not alone; that there’s a community backing them up that desperately wants them to make it and is willing to mobilize for that.” 

At the zine launch, the team screened video testimonies by Palestinian scholars Shereen and Majd (last names not given), who were respectively admitted to McGill’s Master’s programs in Neuroscience and Computer Science but remain in Gaza due to multiple barriers preventing them from receiving their visas. Biometrics, a key component of the Canadian visa application, cannot be obtained in Gaza, meaning that individuals seeking them must travel through the Rafah crossing to neighbouring West Bank or Egyptian territories to do so. However, the Rafah crossing has been closed since May 2024, making it extremely difficult for these students to fulfill the necessary steps for their visa application without external intervention.

However, in the last few years, nations like France, the United Kingdom and Ireland have enabled Palestinian students to complete their visa processes through various means, from evacuating them to neighbouring countries like Jordan to creating streamlined bureaucratic pathways. Historically, Canada has also proved itself flexible by making concessions for individuals in extenuating circumstances during the visa application process. For instance, applications for the Canada-Ukraine Authorization for Emergency Travel (CUAET) visa, temporary emergency visas which were issued to families and individuals fleeing Ukraine, waived the requirement of medical examinations and COVID-19 vaccinations. 

At the institutional level, McGill belongs to lobbying bodies like U15 with mandates that encourage international talent and scholarship to drive Canada’s innovation. Moreover, McGill, registered as an active in-house lobbyist in Ottawa, meets regularly with Canadian government officials to discuss a host of notable issues including immigration. “It’s hard to access the content of these meetings, but we want to make sure that McGill is using all of its political power to make sure these students make it [to Canada],” states Deroi.

The zine’s launch hopes to spark a larger national movement to bring Palestinian scholars to Canada by pressuring the IRCC to expedite their VISA processes. “This is a Canadian issue, and is much bigger than McGill,” affirms Deroi. “Eventually, it would be amazing if other universities wanted to replicate the zine format and the project.” 

McGill students can follow the Critical Media Lab to receive updates about the Empty Seats project and other follow-up events currently in the works. In addition to staying informed about Empty Seats, Deroi encourages students to get involved in the other various forms of on-campus activism pertaining to the Palestinian genocide. “Seeing these issues as interconnected and knowing that there are many different approaches to activism in support of Palestinians is very important.”

Copies of Empty Seats can be found at Cinema Politica. Any further inquiries can be directed to mcgillemptyseats@gmail.com.

The post Taking Attendance for Empty Seats appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The line between performance and identity has become increasingly blurred in music. Be it EsDeeKid’s carefully hidden persona or Gorillaz’s quarter-century of lore, artists now construct themselves as deliberately as they write songs. Every physical action and digital trace carries a magnitude of importance. Optics are king, and a misstep could spell the end of an artist’s career.

Singer-songwriter Phil Elverum, talking to the Daily from his home studio in Anacortes, Washington, USA, has noticed this modern obsession with a carefully crafted image. “I think it’s an expression of what’s happening in the culture at large,” he says, gesturing for emphasis. “Everyone on social media is always performing for their followers, so everyone is used to putting on a face and presenting themselves in an idealized way.”

The goal of “perfect” performance is not restricted to social media or mainstream artists. “I think that it’s even finding expression in independent music,” Elverum adds. 

Performing as The Microphones and Mount Eerie, Elverum leans into lo-fi production, recording many songs with analog tape recorders and sparse acoustic arrangements. From hellish sound collages to delicate love stories, his music exudes vulnerability. The result is an intimate sonic landscape listeners can immerse themselves in.

Having released more than 40 records since the 1990s, with standouts like The Glow Pt. 2 shaping the independent scene, Elverum is no stranger to the pressures of presentation. Like many public figures, he holds his actions in high regard — but rather than chasing flawlessness, he actively avoids it. “People forgot that human touch is so important,” says Elverum, who is known for manning his own merchandise booth when on tour. 

Still, his goal of showcasing imperfection is most evident in his music. “My mind was formed in the era where sloppiness and imperfection were important to feature prominently,” Elverum says. His musical identity is shaped by Seattle’s grunge scene, which he describes as “raw and imperfect.” That era of music was not burdened by today’s technology, a development which tends to eliminate the mistakes and human touch that make recording music so special in the first place. 

Hence, the contrast between Elverum’s sound and the majority of today’s new music is evident. 

“I’m weirded out by how clean everything sounds. Also, people’s singing is so pretty.” He laughs, flashing a wide grin. “What’s up with that?”

Our algorithm-driven world is relentless in its crusade to force individuals into fixed boxes. Whether it’s new technology or the latest viral trends, the pressure to conform to social pressures seems unavoidable. In this day and age, a student showing up to class in skinny jeans would likely face judgement from classmates — even though the opposite might have been true ten years ago. Elverum faces a similar dilemma. Instead of skinny jeans in a room of straight-cut or bootleg denim, he arrives at a technically faultless musical landscape armed with uneven vocals and untamed instrumentals.

How has he resisted the expectations of conformity from the music industry, remaining aligned with his north star of imperfection? “I’ve just been careful to maintain my own weird little corner off to the side [and] to not really participate in the music industry as a whole in a way that feels like it’s beyond me,” Elverum explains.

His independence, facilitated through his own label P.W. Elverum & Sun, allows him to release and sell his work on his own terms. 

“I don’t work with other labels, I’m small, so I’m free and liberated to just do whatever I want. Also, I don’t really follow music very well, so I don’t even know what the expectations would be… I know how to do one thing, and that’s just what I do. If I were to try to do something that would be well-received or cool, it would be embarrassing and it would not work.”

The authenticity with which Elverum pursues his craft is poignant. Despite the talent and influence he has accumulated, he has not abandoned his ethos of imperfection for a path that almost certainly would have brought more commercial and financial success. 

At his essence, Elverum is an artist, and while he may continue to ponder the mysteries of human existence through his music, one thing he does not question is the importance of making art. “My ideal is to be engaged with some kind of art practice. Whatever it is, if it’s music or something else, I don’t know,” Elverum says.

“That’s who I am. That’s who I want to be. That’s the life I want to live, until I die.”

The post Phil Elverum on the Power of Imperfection appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The McGill Daily’s Editorial Board presents its endorsements for the Executive candidates running for the 2026-2027 SSMU election. The editorial board’s decision process included researching each executive’s roles and responsibilities, as well as the responses of the candidates present at the executive debate. Decisions were made through a democratic vote among the editorial board.

President

Endorsement: Yes to Hamza Abu-Alkhair with reservations

According to the SSMU website, “The President is the chief officer of SSMU, responsible for determining the vision of the Society, coordinating and supporting the activities of the other Executive Officers, and representing student interests on various university governance bodies.”

Experience: Hamza Abu-Alkhair has extensive experience in student government: he is currently a member of the Syrian Student Association, a member of the Arab Students Network, and most importantly, the current VP Clubs and Services of the SSMU. Abu-Alkhair’s position in the SSMU demonstrates an understanding of the organization’s tructure.

Platform: Abu-Alkhair’s platform focuses on three main initiatives: accessibility, community, and financial stability. He aims to achieve his first initiative by launching event summaries for students, ensuring transparency of how SSMU operates, improving SSMU outreach, and promoting student engagement. In terms of community building, he aims to make SSMU more visible on campus, develop a multi-year plan to rebuild SSMU as student-centered hub, and increase daytime programming in the University Centre. Finally, he aims to improve financial stability and transparency through collaboration with VP Finance to ensure financial reporting is accessible and inclusive of student voices.

Endorsement: Hamza Abu-Alkhair’s experience as VP Clubs and Services demonstrates his understanding of the SSMU structure and his experience communicating with student organizations. While his platform lacks specificity in describing the mechanisms he will install to improve current SSMU operations, his recognition of SSMU’s internal limitations demonstrates a desire for change and the implementation of student voices in democracy.

VP Clubs and Services

According to the SSMU website, “The VP Clubs and Services is the point person for internal relations between SSMU and its clubs, services, and independent student groups. They are also responsible for mental health promotion, collaborating with Student Services, and addressing issues of student life on campus.”

Endorsement: Yes to Acadia Knickerbocker

Experience: Acadia Knickerbocker has diverse community engagement experience in and out of McGill. She has served as the VP Race Director for McGill Run Club, AUS Co-Commissioner of the Sponsorship committee, and volunteers at the Milton Park Food Hub. Within the SSMU, she has served as the governance speaker of the Legislative Council, chairman of the Board of Directors under Internal Council, and Corporate Secretary.

Platform: Knickerbocker’s extensive platform targets four main areas of clubs and services. She firstly aims to expand resource accessibility by improving the SSMU club fund, increasing storage space, and expanding University Centre booking access. She strives to increase engagement with student groups through on-campus promotion and orientation channels as well as establishing an Activities Night bursary. Her platform also centres on administrative reform, which she states can be achieved by improving the backlog of student club requests, updating internal regulations of student groups. Finally, she intends to address accounting reform by increasing club financing and autonomy.

Endorsement: Acadia Knickerbocker’s platform and campaign showcase a deep understanding of the SSMU structure, policies, and areas of improvement. Her platform includes clear goals, and concrete solutions for existing concerns among student organizations. The Daily Editorial Board endorses Acadia Knickerbocker for the role of VP Clubs and Services, and believes her diverse experience in student clubs, her cohesive platform, and her passionate campaign position her as a strong fit for the role of VP Clubs and Services.

Vice President External

Endorsement: Yes to Harry Wang

According to the SSMU website, “The VP External is in charge of coordinating SSMU’s relations with various levels of government, student associations, community groups, and campus labour unions; as well as managing political campaigns and mobilization efforts.”

Experience: As a provincial School Board Trustee for the Hamilton-Wentworth District School Board, Harry Wang has experience in public service, developing academic policy. Wang has brought this experience to McGill University, where they has served as corporate Secretary for the SSMU, parliamentarian on the Legal & Governance team under the Internal Counsel, chair of the nominating committee for the VP Finance, board member at large, and a member of the judiciary, as well as a member of the accountability committee.

Platform: Harry Wang’s platform relies on three pillars: Government Advocacy, Student Affordability, and Accountability and Transparency. Wang aims to demystify the ways Quebecois provincial policy impacts McGill operations through collaboration with undergraduate student associations and news platforms. Their platform also discusses supporting lower-income students through subsidies and bursaries to support lower-income students in the face of tuition hikes. Finally, Wang aims to limit the unilateral uses of power and increase transparency on the structure and portfolio of the SSMU.

Endorsement: Harry Wang’s experience in provincial school boards as well as various McGill committees demonstrates maturity and familiarity with representing students’ voices on a larger platform. By championing anti-austerity initiatives, promoting minority voices, and highlighting the impact of provincial policies on McGill, Wang shows to beknowledgeable about student demands and interested in meeting student needs. The Daily’s Editorial Board strongly believes that Wang’s campaign showcases his strongcommitment to striving in the role of VP External.

Vice President Internal 

According to the SSMU website, “The VP Internal is chiefly in charge of communication and creating a sense of community with the student body through event planning and communications (such as the listserv).”

Endorsement: Yes to Maggie Tang with reservations

Experience: Maggie Tang’s experience in student government spans the faculty-wide and school-wide scales, having been the AUS HR Administrator as well as the Faculty of Arts Senator. The former comprised matters like promoting awareness of sexual violence and introducing initiatives to improve student life, and the latter involved liaising directly with the SSMU President and VP Internal. She has also worked as SSMU VP Internal administration.

Platform: The three pillars of Maggie Tang’s platform are Inclusivity, Safety and Good Vibes. In terms of inclusivity, her proposed initiatives include free events, engagement with first-year and international students and interfaculty partnerships. Regarding safety, she suggests lower intervention by external security authorities, more structured and transparent event planning processes, and advocacy for the prevention of sexual violence. Finally, lower-cost ticketed events, stronger alumni career fairs, and attractive events like Winter Carnival and SSMU’s Got Talent – in addition to events that aim to ameliorate mental health through light-hearted, casual means – are part of her plan to infuse good vibes into the student body.

Endorsement: Maggie Tang’s platform is not only full of personality, but full of heart. Despite stating that “the role is not about politics,” we believe that her platform and past experience still demonstrates her commitment to social justice issues, which are not only tied to the communitarian roles of VP Internal but are also inherently political. With her additional knowledge of SSMU bureaucracy, we believe in her ability to navigate the responsibilities that come with shaping the student body.

Vice President of University Affairs 

According to the SSMU website, “The VP University Affairs advocates for student interests at almost all levels of university governance. They do this through coordinating student representation to the university Senate and its committees, researching and consulting on policy solutions, and overseeing academic affairs. They also oversee equity initiatives and complaints, as well as advocacy regarding libraries.”

Endorsement: Yes to Meghan Lai

Experience: Meghan Lai’s experience mostly lies in the faculty of education. These roles are Education Student Senator, Legislative Councilor, Co-Chair of the McGill Committee on Student Services, Director on SSMU Daycare Board, EdUS Council Member, Faculty of Education Council Member, Education Faculty Ambassador, McGill Students For the Open Door Montreal Volunteer.

Platform: The three pillars of Lai’s platform include three ABCs: Academics, Bridge, and Community. In terms of academics, their specific aims include revising the Policy on Assessment of Student Learning, develop AI use guidelines/policy, and bring back VP Academic roundtables. They also aim to improve student services through alleviating Student Accessibility and achievement’s exam proctoring load, develop online booking with the Wellness Hub, and increase Student Services programs. Finally, Lai recognizes, and aims to continue the sitting University Affairs’ open-door policy while also striving to facilitate idea sharing through the University Affairs instagram and website.

Endorsement: Meghan Lai’s extensive experience in the undergraduate Education Faculty demonstrates a commitment to pedagogy and student interests. Their understanding of the responsibility of the VP University Affairs role showcases a strong ability to deliver their promises. Finally, Lai’s dedication to social justice, including menstrual health awareness, diversity, and mental health highlight their care and devotion to student wellness amidst an rigorous academic environment.

The post SSMU Executive Endorsements 2026-2027 appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The McGill Black Medical Students’ Association of Canada (BMSA) is a student- run chapter of the national organization, which goes by the same name. Founded in 2022, the organization seeks to address anti- Black racism through advocacy for curriculum modification and reform, tackle barriers to medical school admissions by supporting Black pre-medical students, and to foster a sense of community for current Black students.

The Daily spoke with co- president and second-year student of the Faculty of Medicine and Health Science, Britany Mbangi, over her lunch break on the first day of her neurology rotation. We spoke about Black inclusion and representation in the medical community, BMSA’s rapid expansion, and how to be a good person without losing yourself in the process.

This interview has been edited for clarity and conciseness.

Enid Kohler for The McGill Daily (MD): I’m curious to know more about your story. What drew you to BMSA and how did you first get involved?

Britany Mbangi (BM): I knew that I wanted to get involved in a club coming into medical school, and seeing all the Black students at orientation the very first day touched something deep within me. It wasn’t easy getting here. Within the BMSA, we’re all about supporting each other and trying to make the path easier for fellow Black students who are interested in medicine specifically. So it was a no-brainer for me. I was going to join the BMSA by fire and by force.

MD: As Co-President, how would you describe the BMSA in a nutshell?

BM: The BMSA is full of super- motivated, highly-driven people. We’re all about encouraging each other, pushing each other forward however we can, and trying to build connections with people in the community. We all know as visible minorities that it’s not easy to integrate into certain spaces. But we want to make it easier for Black students to join this space. The BMSA is rapidly changing. Last year, my cohort, [the] class of 2028, was the largest cohort that McGill Medicine has had. It’s a long journey, but we believe that little by little, year after year, we do our best to make it better.

MD: Before beginning McGill medical school, was there a specific experience or person who inspired you to join BMSA?

BM: It’s kind of [a] cliché, but ever since I was little, honestly, I knew I wanted to be a doctor. I decided, you know what, I’m going to shoot my shot at medicine. I’ve been surrounded by a lot of very strong Black figures in my personal life. The sky wasn’t even the limit — I could do anything if I put my mind to it, and I was very lucky and grateful to have the support of my close family members. It wasn’t abnormal for me to strive to greater heights.

MD: That’s really special that you had that growing up. On a wider scale, why is BMSA important for the McGill community, but also for the medical space at large?

BM: Historically, there has always been a very low number of Black people getting accepted into medicine due to socioeconomic barriers, social challenges, or biases. We cannot brush those under the rug. So having an official space for Black medical students where their voices are heard and where they are seen and supported is so important.

The BMSA really is integral to bettering the education of not only Black medical students, but all students from different backgrounds and cultures. It advocates for an even better medical education and safe space for Black patients, Black students, and Black professionals.

MD: Switching gears a bit, do you have a favorite memory of your work with BMSA?

BM: Oh my gosh. There have been a lot of great moments within the BMSA. I think one of my favorite memories was the welcome event [in] my first year of medical school. The Welcome Event is an annual event for our members across all cohorts, including Med-P and MD-PhD students. It creates space for our new students to connect with returning members and for the broader community to engage with Black professionals. I cannot even put into words [how] I felt when I saw the 25, 26 other Black students in my cohort. This was the first time in my life that I’ve seen so many Black fellow students. Going to the welcome event this year where there were, I believe, over 100 attendees, was amazing.

Speaking of the welcome event, this year the McGill BMSA reached over 100 members across all years. It’s a milestone for us. Just thinking that a few years ago, we were only five students and now we’re over 100, [is] just incredible. It speaks to the work that the McGill BMSA has been doing.

MD: Beyond your graduation from McGill’s School of Medicine, what do you hope will be the lasting legacy of BMSA on future students and the medical space more broadly?

BM: That’s a great question. I would say that I don’t see BMSA as just a student club. I see it as an organization where we strive to better the whole experience around the healthcare system, specifically the medical system for Black professionals, Black patients, and Black students. I would hope that my legacy would be to better this experience, not just for Black people, but for everyone. I hope that the BMSA leaves a lasting positive influence on the healthcare system and encourages people to strive for greatness, [creating] a better environment for all.

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

BM: Oh my gosh, what does it mean to be a good person? Being a good person to me means being able to make the people around me feel good without losing myself in the process. Although we’re all unique, as Black people, we often have to minimize or filter ourselves to present a more digestible version to the people around us. While that can make you a great person to others, it doesn’t make you a good person to yourself, because you lose yourself in the process.

Learn more about BMSA and opportunities to get involved on Instagram, @mcgillbmsa, or through their website.

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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GardaWorld’s involvement with ICE was revealed last July in a Miami Herald report that detailed how a subsidiary of the Montreal- based firm, GardaWorld Federal Services, was approved as one among ten companies to aid in running Alligator Alcatraz. The company was awarded eight million USD by ICE for the security contract.

Montreal activists — accompanied by Québec solidaire, Amnesty International, and several union representatives from the Confédération des Syndicats Nationaux (CSN – Federation of National Trades Unions) and the Fédération Autonome de l’Enseignement (FAE) — gathered at Place Vertu, before making the approximately two-kilometre march towards the security firm’s headquarters. A McGill contingency also attended the protest.

The university has historically procured at least $19 million in GardaWorld contracts for campus security services. McGill currently continues to hire security officers from GardaWorld, with job listings as recent as February 4, 2026. Student organizers joined the march with a banner stating: “Garda Off Our Campus.”

McGill students departed from the McGill campus and joined other demonstrators at Place Vertu. The organizers, who have asked the Daily to remain anonymous, elected to create this contingent to encourage students to travel to the protest despite being 55 minutes away by public transit. They sought to highlight McGill’s involvement with GardaWorld in a written statement to the Daily: “McGill contracts GardaWorld to police its students. Students have observed an increased presence of GardaWorld security in the semesters that followed the Gaza Solidarity encampment.”

The McGill organizers further stated that, “McGill has been extremely willing to pay large amounts of money to “securitize” its campus … Considering that a good portion of this money must have gone to their partnership with Garda[World], the students have a responsibility to demand an end to our University’s complicity in ICE’s terrorism, which we know is facilitated by GardaWorld.”

When asked about their personal feelings about having GardaWorld’s security officers on campus grounds, the organizers said that, “we are outraged. It is extremely unsettling to think that the same security guards who follow around students and encroach on their right to protest” work for the same organization that helps “ICE dehumanize and terrorize people in Alligator Alcatraz.”

When asked about why McGill students should mobilize, student organizers responded, “Students should be in charge of what occurs on their own campus.” The contingency outlined future steps that McGill students can take, should they also feel outraged by the GardaWorld contract: “We need to mobilize to show admin that we do not agree with the securitization of our own campuses. We refuse for our tuition to go towards security that we don’t want … our money going towards a company which funds ICE.”

Before leaving from Place Vertu, Celeste Trianon, one of the protest organizers, led a series of speakers to the fore. Each condemned GardaWorld’s collaboration with ICE and their participation in detaining over 6,000 individuals at the South Florida detention centre under inhuman and unsanitary living conditions.

An organizer from Indivisible Québec said, “While ICE operates in the United States, the infrastructure that enables it does not stop at the border. GardaWorld, a corporation headquartered here in Quebec, is one of the private contractors involved in the immigration detention systems.” In 2022, Investissement Québec, a provincial investment agency, invested $300 million CAD in the firm; while nationally, the Canadian federal government has entered into significant, long-term contracts with GardaWorld, including a deal brokered with Canadian Air Transport Security Authority in 2023 for $2.7 billion.

“Let us be clear: when public funds strengthen corporations tied to detention systems, when subsidies and contracts flow without scrutiny, and when profit is made from incarceration that is not neutrality. That is participation,” the speaker continued.

A Montreal local who wished to remain anonymous spoke with the Daily, stating that it was vital for Canadians to show up and protest, “especially when we are seeing this rise in right-wing conservatives who are not afraid to assemble on the other side.” She noted that attending protests such as this one is important for building community and creating active change in the world we live in.

“There’s a lot of action in the US [against ICE], which makes the world think that Canada isn’t doing anything, but we are,” she said. “Canada is also participating in protesting here — that’s why it is so important.”

So far, the protestors mentioned there have been no talks with the McGill administration regarding its affiliation with GardaWorld. The students urged that there is a chance for dialogue should there be more pressure on the University through popular support and direct action. As they put it, “They will not change unless they are cornered into doing so.”

The Daily has reached out for comment from McGill University. As of the time of writing, we are waiting for a response.

Upon arriving at the firm’s headquarters at 5 PM, the demonstrators were met with riot police and GardaWorld’s security staff. According to the Montreal Gazette, the confrontation resulted in officers spraying the crowd with pepper spray and tear gas. At least one demonstrator was arrested, reportedly throwing a piece of ice at an officer before being pinned to the ground.

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Founded in 2019, the journal published in the spring of that year before taking a hiatus from 2021 to 2024 due to pandemic constraints. However, in the spring of 2025, it was revived with the theme “Beyond The Single Story: Africa’s Diaspora and Diverse Realities.” The 2025 edition includes a gallery-esque exhibition complete with readings of poetry, artworks, and authentic Ghanaian food. This year’s edition of the journal will centre around the theme “Afrofuturism: Envisioning The Futures We Create.”

For our Black History Month issue, The McGill Daily spoke with ASSA President Zahra Hassan Doualeh, ASSA VP Academic Henry Maidoh, and ASSA VP External and UHURU Editor-in-Chief Shanna Coulanges. We discussed UHURU’s role in shifting the needle on African narratives, and their greater hopes for the journal as part of a larger vision of Afrofuturism.

This interview has been edited for conciseness and clarity.

Isabelle Lim for The McGill Daily (MD): Tell me about ASSA and the work you do as an academic student organization.

Henry Maidoh (HM): We are an undergraduate association aiming to elevate the African Studies program and department. We foster connectivity between African Studies students and their professors, and raise general student body awareness of the program and its various curricular and extra-curricular opportunities.

Zahra Hassan Doualeh (ZHD): As members, we sit on committees with the African Studies faculty that inform the faculty members and the administration how the program can be improved and what students want to see more of. That is what we do more on the academic level.

MD: McGill is one of the few universities in Canada with a unique African Studies program. How do you think the African Studies option is valuable, and how do you think current programming could be diversified or improved?

ZHD: I think McGill has this specific advantage of being an English institution in a majority French-speaking province. That linguistic aspect puts it in a very advantageous position, considering that a lot of the African population of Montreal is from North Africa; while a lot of African scholarship focuses on sub-Saharan Africa, which is mostly English-speaking. McGill is informed by both languages as it has bilingual scholars and faculty members with experience in different parts of Africa. Uniting these two creates something that’s never been done before, which is where our strength lies.

Afrofuturism is not just about innovation, technology, and startups. It is also about looking inwards. It’s about historical imagination, and Pan-Africanism is a big part of that. We are a collective. There would never be us without each and every single one of us, you know? That’s why I think the work being done at McGill is unlike any other institution.

HM: In general, we want to give students the ability to engage with African literature and elevate their own experiences with African realities not only localized to the continent, but also pertaining to the African diaspora and relevant global communities. While a lot of the content in the African Studies program is very valuable, I don’t feel like it’s as forward-thinking as it could be. While you can’t know the future without knowing the history, I still believe having more courses centred on the now and the future [would be valuable] for youths to apply that knowledge to the present. The future is Africa, after all.

MD: The theme for UHURU’s 2026 edition is “Afrofuturism: Envisioning the Futures We Create.” What was the thought process behind the theme? Compared to last year’s, which focused on individual narratives, how did you choose to widen the scope from the narrative to the collective?

Shanna Coulanges (SC): I’m especially drawn to the second part of the title: Envisioning the Futures We Create. It carries a deeply mobilizing force, one that calls on all of us to imagine and actively build [into being] what has yet to come. Too often, Africa has been framed through narratives of reduction and constraint, as we explored last year. This year, we open a new conversation, one without limits or restraint. Ultimately, we hope this issue stands as a testament to ambition, boldness, and creativity, an invitation to learn, explore, and give form to futures not yet uncovered.

ZHD: When you look at the themes, they’re sort of a continuation of one another. We started by going against reductive narratives. Now, Afrofuturism is about showing [our] potential and everything that is being done. If you perceive it that way, it is like a timeline. So who knows what next year’s [theme] is going to be?

MD: UHURU uniquely welcomes both research and creative submissions. What narratives do you hope to uplift with this approach?

HM: Well, with a name like UHURU, who do we leave out of freedom?

ZHD: Accepting artworks is part of decolonizing scholarship. There are many kinds of expertise, and many ways of sharing that. A lot of our stories cannot simply be told through the rigid framework of a scholarly article.

SC: It’s about transcending the frontiers of communicating a powerful message. UHURU has, in my opinion, a dual mandate: to provide a space for Afro-descendant voices to be heard, but more importantly, to narrate plural & unapologetic experiences of Africa & Africans. Allowing for creative submissions is not motivated by a simple whim to add colour, but by the desire to provide a new layer of depth, understanding, and ways of perceiving the reality of the African continent.

MD: This year, UHURU is collaborating with other Black and African organizations as part of the journal’s outreach. Tell me more about those collaborations as well as how those tie into your aforementioned mission of elevating Pan-African experiences.

HM: We’re building a lot of partnerships at the moment. We have one with Sayaspora, which works on giving more African women and girls opportunities, which really coincides with UHURU’s project. We’ve also been able to get involved with the Black Law Students’ Association (BLSA) and the IDSSA’s Candid conversations podcast [interviewer’s note: episode still pending] to speak on behalf of UHURU. Notably, the McGill marketing team contacted us for an article, which appeared on their newsletter, which is sent out to everyone, and on their news page. That was huge.

There’s more to come, for sure. I love the fact that we’re able to engage with multiple like-minded organisations and groups to show that it’s possible to start an initiative that’s focused on Black and African students.

MD: In this sense, do you think that UHURU has transcended its status as a student journal to encompass something larger?

HM: For sure. The journal was a foundation for bringing more awareness to African Studies. In doing so, though, we’ve also been able to create a movement by mobilizing a bunch of people — even outside of the country, let alone just [at] McGill. But there’s still a long way to go, so I wouldn’t say we’re a fully-furnished movement just yet.

ZHD: I mean, I see it as a collective. From the get go, we didn’t want to limit the scope of this journal to simply the African Studies program, because we would have been limiting the impact that we could have. The goal is to create a community that is greater than just the couple of students who produce this journal. Bringing in Sayaspora is a huge thing because it’s well-known within the Black community in Montreal, but it isn’t just limited to Montreal. Frankly, the idea of the collective is so art-based as well, which also makes it more inclusive.

MD: All this: to what effect?

HM: To show that African Studies isn’t just for Africans, it’s for everyone. And that being knowledgeable about it isn’t and shouldn’t be disproportionately attributed to one group of people.

MD: Finally, what does Afrofuturism look like to you in your own life?

HM: Agency.

SC: Afrofuturism to me looks like agency in all its forms and shape. Reclaiming power in spaces where Africa had been treated as passive rather than [the] holder of its own destiny.

ZHD: Once, a journalist asked Senegalese cinematographer Ousmane Sembène, who made films for Africans about Africans, how he felt about how his films were perceived in France, and he said, “Europe is not my centre.” I grew up in a family that never saw the West as the centre, so coming in [to McGill] and meeting people who thought differently was quite a shock. So for me, Afrofuturism gives some people a peek into what my life has been like. Africa has always been my centre.

UHURU Journal’s fifth edition “Afrofuturism: Envisioning The Futures We Create” is accepting academic submissions until February 23, 2026, and creative submissions until March 1, 2026, for launch in April 2026.

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For those immigrating to Canada, it might not just be the grass that’s greener on the other side of the border, but the conditional visas as well. Marriage-based immigration has existed in Canada since the early 20th century. That being said, it was only in 2001, through the Immigration and Refugee Protection Act, that the Canadian government established a modern spousal sponsorship framework. Family sponsorship or reunification programs quickly became a gateway of opportunity for many to build a life across borders; however, these programs also reveal the consequences of intertwining private life with public power dynamics, serving as a microcosm of the blind confidence we place in the law and how procedural legitimacy is often placed at odds with lived realities.

The privilege to import marriages to Canadian soil is selectively granted legitimacy, by a legal system that legitimizes situations it already has precedent for. With Canada’s Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship (IRCC) department’s announcement for “tighter immigration checks” and lower sponsorship quotas — declining from 70,000 in 2025 to a projected 61,000 for 2027, concerns about the system’s eagerness to approach spousal union feels more relevant now than ever. Though designed to prevent marriage fraud, the legal system’s exhaustive investigation procedure and rigid documentation policies can pose additional barriers for couples and immigrants who are already vulnerable upon entering a new country.

Public servants’ interference in the private sphere is exemplified when the Canada Border Service Agency (CBSA) cross examines Canadian immigrant households with scrutiny and suspicion, which exposes these households to societal norms of what is deemed an acceptable relationship. In one striking 2022 case, in Sudbury, Ontario, Ariella Ladouceur applied to sponsor her husband, Cordella James from Jamaica. Despite their three-year relationship and a child on the way, their application was rejected on concerns that Ladouceur’s husband might intend to commit marriage fraud. This remained a concern even after Ladouceur showed the immigration officers letters from her family physician and ultrasound photos of the baby. Though the couple has applied to appeal the decision, the process is said to take up to two years, leaving Ladouceur to give birth to her child without the father. The government attempts to measure the legitimacy of marriage and it is the lovers who bear the burden of providing proof. It is the government’s perception of legitimate marriage—the limits of what it is willing to acknowledge as a Canadian household that is justified by the rigorous documentation of a couple’s correspondences, travel records, family affidavits.

Conditional spousal immigration regulations embed inequality into the union of two equals. By introducing a power imbalance through legal asymmetry — a condition in which one partner holds immigration authority over the other — these regulatory forces create situations of dependency, where one partner’s legal status is contingent on the other’s sponsorship, a power that can be leveraged against them, opening up opportunities for exploitation and abuse.

In 2012, Canada had the Conditional Permanent Residency policy in place, which required couples to live together consecutively for two years after permanent residency was granted or risk losing legal status. This put victims of domestic abuse at risk, with many forced to choose between enduring two years of domestic violence or giving up the life they had begun to build in Canada. While the IRPR s. 72.1(6) outlined an exception in the case of abuse victims, accessing this exemption was widely regarded by legal advocates as procedurally burdensome and re-traumatic for victims, as the burden of proof for victims demanded comprehensive police reports and invasive medical examinations — leading to the policy’s repeal in 2017.

In a climate of fear and paranoia, the policy granted sponsors authority. It reinforced the view that citizenship was a privilege that the sponsor personally afforded to their spouse — one that could be revoked. When the sponsor’s authority is backed by the state, it is inevitable that a power imbalance results in the relationship. Manipulation could take the form of self- victimizing narratives about being promised a partnership and being “used” for a visa. Being unaware of one’s legal rights, the existence of the abuse exception, or availability of language learning resources could restrict newly arrived immigrants’ abilities to navigate the complex legal landscape and make them dependent on their sponsors. At the same time victims faced the emotionally taxing burden of supplying proof of abuse, which is made especially difficult if the abuser is uncooperative by withholding critical documentation and preparing to defend themselves against the possible reinvestigation into the legitimacy of their marriage. The power disparity is not a case of interpersonal relations, it is by design, a natural consequence of transposing law onto domestic life.

Examining the intersection of immigration and marriage reveals what kind of marriages the legal system legitimizes. Spousal reunification is at the mercy of the government. When we allow the state to assign legitimacy, the importance that we as a society place in the institution of marriage is revealed. It is because we validate marriage with legal recognition that these structures are given permission to grant, withhold and limit spousal partnership on the basis of borders. It is worth being skeptical of these government institutions that impose bureaucratic legal frameworks onto the very real lives of spouses and families across the world. It is not good faith, it is beyond bad faith; it is deeply un-Canadian.

The post The Ministry of Love appeared first on The McGill Daily.

The theme “Voices and Visions,” set the tone for the evening: one where students could share their experiences with representation, access to resources, and mechanisms of discrimination, all while envisioning a future of equity and opportunity. Grassroots efforts have succeeded on campus: this February marks the ninth year of McGill’s official celebration of Black History Month, a mark of progress in the recognition of Blackness at McGill. But the single- digit anniversary is also an indicator that equity efforts are still in their formative stages.

One of the key topics of discussion at the event was Black student representation at McGill. Many voiced frustration regarding the lack of Black presence in various faculties, as well as the student body. Black people make up over four per cent of the Canadian population, yet many McGill faculties maintain significantly lower representation. Students at the roundtable expressed how seeing members of their community in positions of embodied knowledge is crucial for self-esteem and inclusion. Mauffette Alavo stressed that while the university still has crucial improvements to make, Black excellence remains integral, and more effective publicizing should be done to make the community more visible. Williams further underlined the necessity to target efforts in underrepresented areas, like STEM faculties and executive faculty positions. Both speakers recognized that initiatives of further inclusion need to be led by students. Brittany Williams noted that the university’s administration is highly receptive to students’ demands and encouraged the development of the resources they already have, such as SSMU’s Black Equity Fund, Black student internship, and research summer programs. Key people and projects are in place, but students are the fuel to the fire, the roundtable concluded.

Towards the end of the evening, the discussion progressed towards aspirations for the future. “The support of Black students is not a trend,” Mauffette Alavo asserted. Organizational stability and reliable frameworks guarantee long-term commitments and partnerships, both within the university and with outside partners.

Events like the roundtable and organizations like the BSN, MASS, and ASSA provide spaces for Black students to not only support each other but also to share their knowledge and collectively organize towards common goals. The Voices and Visions roundtable was yet another successful outcome of student-led, community-building initiatives.

The post An Evening of Unity appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Sophocles’ Antigone is a play for our time. In the wake of civil war, Creon, the newly self-appointed King of Thebes, issues an edict forbidding anyone to bury Polynices, brother to Antigone and Ismene, who fought against Creon’s winning side. More loyal to the laws of the gods and the needs of nature than to this sacrilegious edict from a tyrannical ruler, Antigone buries Polynices anyway and faces the consequences: death by abandonment through solitary confinement, where she is, in Luce Irigaray’s words, “deprived of the air, the sun, and all the environment necessary for living.”

Against the contemporary backdrop of rising fascism and suppression of activism, Antigone embodies the resolve and courage demanded of us today. Her unjust punishment, too, exemplifies the sort of repression that unfortunately dissuades many from following in her footsteps. Antigone has been widely regarded not only as a paragon of civil disobedience in general but also, more specifically, as a role-model for climate activists. Montreal’s own offshoot of the international climate activist group Last Generation has dubbed itself “Le Collectif Antigone.” This is a play with an important message that could resonate with viewers, one that is increasingly important for us to hear.

The McGill Classics Play’s “daring new iteration” seems, on some level, to understand that this is a play for our time. The adaptation, directed by McGill student Madelyn Mackintosh and alum Caroline Little, based on a new translation by Adam Zanin, certainly seems to have Donald Trump in mind. Creon wants to make Thebes great again. He is troubled by and seeks to vanquish the enemy within. In the second act, as the people start to turn on him, a soldier cries “I didn’t vote for him!”

Adapting the play for Trump’s America could be interesting. In truth, I happen to think that such an interpretation would, failing truly extensive and off-putting revisions to the dialogue, be too flattering to Trump and his ilk. Say what you will about Creon, but at least he can string a sentence together. Melania, unlike Eurydice, does not appear to have any sympathy for dissidents and Haemon is far more human than any of the Trump sons. Thus, when the McGill Classics Play’s production did obviously allude to Trump, I had to laugh at how absurd it is to live in a time when the “leader of the free world” is even more despicable than this villain of ancient literature.

However, rather than committing to making such a comparison, this staging is instead set “amid the rising authoritarianism of the 1930s.” Although the art deco set design confuses the analogy, the delivery of Creon’s monologues (pre-recorded and piped in such that Creon himself just stands, mouth unmoving, in front of a microphone a few times an act) is clearly meant to recall the aesthetics of Hitler’s speeches.

This confusion of contemporary (and 1920s) America with the Third Reich is, I think, in some ways meant to be the point. The takeaway of this production seems to be that Trump = Creon = Hitler. And insofar as we, the members of the audience, are not Antigone, we are the everyday Germans whose complacency allowed for the horrors of the Holocaust – although, in light of Hannah Arendt’s influential view of the Holocaust as a manifestation of the banality of the evil, this message is somewhat undercut by the choice to put all but the play’s “good guys” in ghostly face paint. Insofar as we understand Trump’s America to be devolving into a simple reiteration of Nazi Germany, we are, too, the Americans who “didn’t vote” for Trump, but who are doing nothing to stop him.

This choice of takeaway irks me. It is certainly true that many, if not all of us are complicit in a great many horrors. But as Trump’s cronies murder modern- day Antigones in the street and people increasingly compare Trump to Hitler, there has been growing discourse about how inapt this particular comparison is. John Meyer has recently argued that if you’re searching for a European fascist on whom to model Trump, Francisco Franco is your man. More compellingly, many point out that America in fact has its own long history of fascism. The Nazis were themselves inspired by this history. W.E.B. Dubois implied as early as 1935, in his Black Reconstruction in America, that “the white supremacism of Jim Crow America” was fascist. Two years later, Langston Hughes stated that “we Negroes in America do not have to be told what fascism is in action. We know. Its theories of Nordic supremacy and economic suppression have long been realities to us.” We might then worry that the compulsion to compare Trump to European dictators flows out of an unwillingness to look America’s own history in the face. Trump isn’t Hitler and he’s not Franco – his fascism is homegrown. In trying to say so much, this production thus fails to say anything especially compelling, flattening all particularity.

All of this said, this production had some real potential. Aniela Stanek’s portrayal of Antigone is excellent. The sister dynamic between her and Neela Perceval- Maxwell’s Ismene is very compelling, as is the choice to make Ismene as sympathetic as this version does. Nikhil Girard’s Creon, unmoving soliloquies in front of the mic aside, is solid. Nicholas Cho manages to make Eurydice surprisingly sympathetic even despite the character’s “moral blindness and outright complicity” with Creon. Megan Siow’s handmaiden and Sarah Shoff’s Tiresias are both important grounding voices.

Aside from the bloody and fiery spectacle that follows the death of the titular character, Griphon Hobby-Ivanovici’s Haemon, the most central and impassioned voice of reason, is the highlight of the second act for me. We can’t all be Antigones and we shouldn’t all be Ismenes. But many of us can, I think, aspire to be Haemons: loving and fiercely supportive of the few who, like Antigone, have an almost inhuman ability to stay committed to their principles against all odds. Loving them not in spite of this commitment, as with Ismene, but because of it.

Brendan Lindsay’s sentry is funny and charming – the comedic highlight of the show by a mile. Although making Sam Snyders’s magical bartender Hades himself leans a little too Percy Jackson and the Olympians-coded for my liking, especially in a production that already has so many moving pieces, his winkingly irreverent delivery is a welcome source of levity. Luca McAndrews’s advisor really shines in his fearful reactions to Creon’s increasing rage in the second act.

If I have more to say about the acting in the latter half, that’s largely because I was only able to see the actors’ faces after I moved into a seat that had been vacated during the intermission. While the original play is in part a call for tradition and ritual to be respected, this production for some reason – perhaps to leverage the art deco interior design of le 9e – foresook the tradition of the stage itself, thereby making it impossible for most of the audience to see anything. That this choice, and so many other confused adaptational choices, was made is a real shame, especially given that the cast, for all I could see, seem to have given such strong performances.

If this review is perhaps a little polemic, that is in part because this adaptation had such promise and because the choice to stage Antigone today is such a good one. But I love Antigone precisely because of its particularity. In G.W.F. Hegel’s influential analysis of the play, in fact, Antigone’s deepest crime is arguably that she preserves her brother in his particularity instead of allowing him to become just another anonymous corpse. It therefore saddened me to see this adaptation strip the play of what I take to be one of its greatest strengths. That Antigone is timeless does not mean that adaptations of it should pull aimlessly from so many historical contexts. In doing so, this adaptation loses much of the complexity that is so important for developing a robust understanding of the play, of the history of fascism, and of the workings of contemporary fascism.

The post McGill Classics Play’s Antigone: Timeless, Not Timely appeared first on The McGill Daily.

A science student bar has been a work in progress for over four years. Prior students in SUS’s VP External position made efforts to organize a faculty bar, but logistical complications kept the idea from materializing. “The problem that we’ve always had is that we don’t have a good space,” Padilla told the Daily. “Arts has their basement, same for Engineering, and Management as well: they all have really large spaces with limited exits.” The Burnside basement had been the ideal location for a Science-faculty bar, but using the entire open space would have been a fire hazard. Last year, two adjacent Computer Taskforce rooms were reallocated to SUS, which inspired Padilla to present the idea to the SUS executive board.

“It wasn’t the most popular idea, using two study rooms of limited size in the basement of an academic building,” Padilla told the Daily. The SUS executive team began discussing The Lab over the summer, and had prepared to present the idea to the McGill administration by September. Getting the idea off the ground required discussions between SUS executives and McGill staff, including McGill’s Burnside building director, the Spaces Administrator, and administrators from the Science Faculty’s student affairs office and Security Services. After four months of emails, meetings, and negotiations, the idea was approved and planning for opening night began.

The Lab is run by SUS’s pre-existing after-hours committee – which exists year-to-year, planning after-hours events – including Padilla, directors Ella Rikley and Madison Brass, and five coordinators. There are currently 30 student bar staffers, as well as multiple staff photographers. Padilla stressed that organizing The Lab and preparing for opening night was a joint effort across SUS: “I’ve been lucky to get a lot of support from everyone who’s been willing to help wherever it’s needed,” he told the Daily. “It’s been a very collaborative process.”

The Lab’s doors opened only three and a half weeks after being confirmed for operation, a feat Padilla attributes to “an incredible, dedicated team.” An estimated 300 to 500 students came to the basement on opening night. Some waited for over two hours, and many who packed into the adjacent stairway reported line-cutting and rowdy crowds. The organizers, who had an hour to set up the room, did not realize how many people had congregated until the bar was ready to open. For future events, the committee plans to schedule staff to monitor the line during and before opening hours. “The capacity is limited, so we try to work the best we can,” Padilla said. “We definitely had at least twice our capacity show up, which was a little bit intimidating. It was a little scary, but things were good in the end.”

Organizing a student bar is a large undertaking, especially for McGill’s second-largest undergraduate faculty. “There was a lot to do, and very little time to do it. I think everyone really learned how to be overwhelmed and yet still take one thing at a time,” Padilla told the Daily. He added that the launch has also been a learning experience for those involved within the SUS executive committee, and working together to set up The Lab has been another instance of successful collaboration to serve the needs of the Science faculty. “Being thoughtful in our communication and including everyone is the biggest thing that we’ve learned, but I think that’s something that the SUS team is really good at.”

Ultimately, Padilla reported that opening night was a success: they opened, served drinks, and closed without any incidents or destruction to the basement. Beyond the primary goal of having fun, the team’s aim for the bar’s initial nights is “to show SUS, admin, and all the parties involved that this is something that can work.” Padilla described this semester as a “proof of concept,” a demonstration that the space can bring the faculty together safely without disruptions. The Lab’s biweekly schedule was designed for the committee to troubleshoot between events and learn from any setbacks or unexpected chaos, through their own observations and their anonymous feedback form. The team hopes for the schedule to shift to weekly in the upcoming Fall semester, once staffing and routine are solidified.

The Lab will be open five times this semester, including this Friday, February 20. The concept – drinking a warm, two- dollar beer out of a plastic cup in a crowded basement – is shared among McGill’s other student bars, yet The Lab was designed by and for McGill’s Science undergraduates as a place for the community to come together. “It’s a spot that you can go, as Science students, every other week or every week in the future, and know you’ll have friends there and people from your faculty that you can hang out with,” Padilla told the Daily. “I’ve heard from a lot of people that they’re super excited to finally have their own space, ad I hope it continues to be that.”

The post Welcome to The Lab appeared first on The McGill Daily.

I never thought I would get on the apps, more specifically Hinge. However, seeing an Instagram post about “dating as an anthropological study” during a reading week trip to a city where I knew nobody and nobody knew me made for a little too irresistible of an opportunity. A moment, or a month, of weakness? Probably. But here is the truth: tell the Culture Editor to approach a situation with anthropological curiosity, and you’ve got yourself a perfect storm. 

I won’t bore you with too many details of my time on Hinge, which I deleted after just a couple of weeks. All things considered, the experience was ripe with personal insights. I could go into so many things: the astounding number of men in my DMs proclaiming their adoration for anime and/or K-Pop (I am Chinese-Vietnamese) or the humbling experience of swiping on people to have them not swipe on you, resulting in an ego death by a thousand cuts. All of these are meaningful, and maybe I’ll write about those another time. 

The main point of this piece, however, is the viscerally dehumanizing experience of being on a dating app.

At some point, swiping becomes mindless. You might start out looking through someone’s  entire  profile, pictures and prompts and all, then coming to as holistic of a yes/no as you can given the limited information you have about this person. Hundreds of profiles later, though, you’ve seen enough. Just the first photo, maybe the second, suffices to make a decision. It even becomes a game: my roommate called it “playing Hinge.” We’d sit together, gazes fixed on my phone screen, and swipe through tens of people at a time. It was quite hilarious how our reactions started to sync: “nope”, “next”, “hmm”, “not bad”, “maybe” and only the exceptional  yes, like seeing a unicorn on McTavish. 

Realizing the ridiculousness of this cycle was kickstarted by an experience many dating app users will know too well: chancing upon the Hinge profiles of people I recognized from real life. I found my neighbours, a friend of a friend’s ex, familiar faces from the gym and my walks to and from classes. I stumbled upon the guy I had made out with at Frosh in first year, and the freshman I had turned down at the club a few weeks prior. The sheer dissonance between the persona on their profiles and the people I knew them as was so bizarre. I pushed that strange feeling aside. Maybe it wasn’t that deep. I kept swiping. 

The incongruence between the way people presented themselves online versus in person slowly began to solidify. I realized that somewhere within 20 kilometers of me, likely at that very moment, someone was probably swiping on me. They were also probably forgetting the few details they had learned about me in that very same second, my face blurring into just one of thousands in a continuous, unfeeling swipe. I couldn’t even blame them: I was doing the exact same thing. Each of us equally the perpetrators and victims of our mutual judgement. 

Finally, I happened to walk past one of my failed Hinge talking stages on the street while he was with a friend. In the split second in which I passed him and heard him speaking, I realized that he had a thick European accent that took me by surprise since he had never mentioned it. Not that the accent mattered, but it caused something to suddenly click in my head: how could I have known? Though we’d had a decent back-and-forth in our Hinge chat, and I had seen his profile, there was no way I could have known about his manner of speaking. 

It seems banal, but it truly dawned on me then that all these profiles were those of real people, evidenced by the people I knew who I’d seen on there. They had accents, mannerisms, tics, etc. They had interests, fears, beliefs; pasts and presents and futures. They, like me, were more than just their three best photos and three wittiest prompts – a fact that we had all failed to attend to. At that moment, I felt ashamed. How could I, the anthropologist in this study, have missed the humanity at the core of it all? 

This prompted further introspection on my end: who was I? Was my profile at all representative of who I was, or just a carefully projected image of what I believed to be the most desirable parts of myself? 

Dating apps actively encourage the treatment of oneself like property, then like a business. Our bodies become objects we must nurture to attain peak performance. We see this in self-care culture, “gym bro” culture, the increasing normalization of cosmetic procedures. Of course, there’s nothing wrong with taking care of your body, but the exponential growth of health and beauty industries speak to the value of one’s body as a material possession; whose function is no longer just to keep you alive, but to be “the best it can be” (whatever that may mean). 

Thereafter, we advertise this prescribed standard to others, turning ourselves into “businesses.” Dating apps are a prime platform for this. We peacock the best versions of ourselves – the digicam photos or the nonchalant one-liners – through our profiles, hoping that others will take notice. There is a means-end dynamic at play that leads to our self-objectification, where we strip ourselves and others of the human experiences and character traits that make us, us. When someone matches with the highly manicured version of ourselves, do they really match with us? And is that the kind of connection we even want in the first place?

This is not to say that one cannot find love on the apps. I know loving, long-term couples who have met there. This is also not to sound like an anti-dating app prude; I have, after all, been on them. I take issue not with the apps themselves, but the cultures they perpetuate: ones of disillusionment and boredom with actual people or, rather, their online caricatures whom we take as their wholes when they are merely slivers. Of the disillusionment with genuine connection itself, shown in how we are often encouraged to act in ways otherwise unnatural to how we would usually form close bonds with someone: only responding after x amount of time, playing “hard-to-get”, or “playing the game”, so to speak.

Sure, in our current dystopia of a dating scene, apps expand one’s pool of potential partners. But the way we carry out this social expansion leaves so much to be desired. For why do we treat ourselves like products to be bought, casting our net wider to attract more consumers – I mean, potential partners? Social media and ubiquitous digital connectivities mean that so much choice is available to us at all times. But once again, if we really have so many choices, why do so many of us struggle to get off the apps? Does anyone on the apps really want to be on them? Ultimately, what good is there in scrolling through a thousand faces of eligible singles in our area if it means eventually desensitizing ourselves to the hearts and minds behind them? 

Reflecting on my successful romantic endeavours, I cannot confidently say that, had we come across each other on a dating app, we would have swiped on each other. This is not to mean that attraction is absent, only that it grows; with proximity, with time, in the getting to know. And isn’t that the beauty of connection? Letting someone surprise you? 

So, as obvious as it may sound, be open. Be open to dating outside of your type, perhaps people you might not otherwise think twice about. Be open to being curious, though of course with caution. Free yourself from the limited choices on the apps (which represent, actually, a minority of the single population) and open yourself up to the world around you. Genuinely, try dating as an anthropological study: not in the active pursuit of something, but simply to get to know another person. Join a club, chat up someone in your conference, whatever. Maybe you’ll learn more about yourself in the process. You really never know!

But okay. Even if you are on the apps (absolutely no judgement), it’s a given that you only have so much to work with profile-wise. In that case, fill your profile with things that showcase who you are authentically, not just the parts of yourself that you believe to be the most desirable. More matches don’t necessarily mean better ones. Moreover, at least if you’re looking for genuine connection, approach your interactions with the sincere intention of getting to know the other person. What’s the point of playing games if the goal is to attract someone who doesn’t play them? Be open not just to others, but to being unapologetically yourself, free of the filters. The rest, I believe, will follow. 

It seems cheesy, maybe even dumb; an empty platitude that offers no real help at all. You might even roll your eyes — I get it, I’ve been there. But truly, in the question of how to access the love that seems to be everywhere but also increasingly out of reach, I posit that you, perhaps, are the answer. 

The post Un-Hinge-d appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Something is in the air in the movie world, and it isn’t love. For decades, romantic comedies were a Hollywood staple, drawing audiences in to laugh, cry, and believe, even just for a couple hours, that love could conquer all. When Harry Met Sally, How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days, Sleepless in Seattle, Love Actually; these movies did more than just entertain, they contributed to a genre of classics that is becoming relatively historic. 

There’s something about classic rom-coms that make us feel overwhelmingly comforted and happy. Viewers are transported to a dream-like reality: charming bookstores, cozy cafes, and picturesque city streets. Many of the aforementioned iconic rom-coms emerged in the 80s, 90s, and early 00s before the era of smartphones and social media, before the digital age reshaped meet-cutes from run-ins at grocery stores to matches on dating apps. Seeing as peak romance seemed to exist in movies at this time, was love somehow easier, or was life simply better before technology took over our lives? This is a question I find myself returning to often, along with a certain nostalgia for a lifestyle I never experienced. I think this is partly why that era of rom-coms is so widely loved. In many ways, they are windows into a version of life that no longer feels easily accessible. Whether or not the past was truly more romantic, these films offered audiences a vision of connection that felt warm, hopeful, and deeply human — qualities becoming increasingly rare in today’s cinematic landscape.

In contrast, recent additions to the romantic comedy genre have been wiped of this dreamy quality. Films like Anyone but You and Ticket to Paradise did achieve streaming popularity, yet few have embedded themselves into our long-term cultural memory in the way that earlier films did. Today’s romance movies often lean into the drama of it all, emphasizing emotional conflict, messy “situationships,” or the toxicity of modern dating rather than the hopeful escapism that once defined the genre. Visually, many share the now-familiar “Netflix lighting” making movies feel interchangeable and somewhat bland, contributing to the sense that these films lack the sparkle they once were admired for. 

These changes in production might reflect a change in audience preferences, indicating perhaps that people find cynicism more entertaining than romance itself. However, even more compelling is the question of whether these films simply reflect the realities of modern dating, where traditional grand gestures such as sending flowers in the mail, running through a city to confess love, or showing up unannounced to express one’s romantic feelings have become increasingly rare; or whether the media we consume is quietly steering audiences away from imagining romance in these ways at all. 

Theatrical rom-com releases have declined significantly, in part because the genre typically falls into the mid-budget category ($5-50 million) that studios now consider financially risky compared to blockbuster franchises. As fewer of these films are produced and promoted, their cultural influence also diminishes. What are the effects of this decline?

Rom-coms help keep classic romance alive and have historically functioned as social examples for courtship, modeling communication, vulnerability, and intentional actions. Audiences may therefore lose exposure to the emotional openness and thoughtful gestures that are the backbone of a healthy relationship. These are especially important for youth to internalise, as they lack romantic experience at a young age and might require models of healthy relationships outside of their immediate families. 

More simply, rom-coms are fun to watch. They’re the perfect thing to wind down to after a stressful day at school or work. While psychologically compelling romantic dramas can be entertaining at times, they just do not produce the same warm, cozy feeling. 

Psychological research on romantic media suggests that its influence is complex. Some scholars argue that romance films can reinforce unhealthy expectations, encouraging the belief that individuals are “incomplete” without a partner and even reinforcing stigma around being single. Others argue that romance movies are sometimes overly unrealistic, accelerating processes of emotional intimacy that in reality take much longer to develop or solving deeply-rooted problems that only years of therapy can fix. Melanie Maimon, a professor of psychology at Bryant University, explains that films tend to emphasize passionate love, dramatic confessions and intense attractions, while overlooking the quieter forms of love that actually sustain long-term partnerships. Rather than dramatics, long-lasting relationships are built instead on companionate love, defined by friendship, emotional support, and shared routines. Since these aspects of companionship are not deemed as cinematically interesting as passionate love and grand gestures are, audiences are often left with an incomplete picture of how relationships actually endure. 

At the same time, other research highlights the constructive potential of romantic storytelling. Many rom-com conflicts arise from miscommunication, showing how failure to properly express feelings can block connection and emphasizing how successful relationships require vulnerability. These movies have also historically gotten humans through difficult times, thriving during crises like the Great Depression and wartime as a reliable form of escapist entertainment. Romantic films act both as a key to a transportive world of relatable characters with easily identifiable struggles, and as a warm security blanket we can wrap ourselves in when we need comfort and/or a laugh. 

Rom-coms once gave audiences a place to believe in grand gestures, awkward meet-cutes, and the possibility that love may be just around the corner. Today, as the genre grows quieter, perhaps the real question is not whether the rom-com is dying, but whether we are ready to lose the kinds of stories that once reminded us, albeit a little cheesily, that love could be all we need. 

The post The Death of the Rom-Com appeared first on The McGill Daily.

Founded in 2009, Swimming With a Mission Montréal (SWAM) is a registered not-for-profit organization led by student volunteers. A chapter of the national organization SWAM Canada, it seeks to provide affordable and accessible one-on-one swimming instruction to children with disabilities aged 3 to 18. Instructors are paired with one swimmer for the course of the eight week program. Every week, they teach 30-minute lessons with the ultimate goal of fostering confidence in the water.

The McGill Daily spoke with Co-Presidents Anna Bogdan, U3 Psychology, and Benjamin Lévesque Kinder, U3 Neuroscience. We discussed their motivations for joining SWAM, making sports accessible, and the power of swimming to transform how children with disabilities move through the world.

This interview has been edited for clarity and conciseness. 

Enid Kohler for The McGill Daily (MD): I want to start by learning more about your involvement with SWAM. Why and how did you join the organization? 

Benjamin Lévesque Kinder (BLK): I got involved in the winter of my first year. I had been a camp counselor many summers in a row during high school, giving swim lessons to kids. One week, I was assigned a girl who had an undiagnosed autism spectrum disorder. Her support needs were very high, much higher than the camp had the resources for. She loved swimming. We just wandered around the whole day. It was awesome. When I came to McGill, I learned about SWAM at Activities Night and knew it was something I wanted to do. 

Anna Bogdan (AB): I’ve been a competitive swimmer since I was very, very small. When I was injured, I transitioned over to coaching. When I came to McGill I really wanted to continue. I went to Activities Night and saw that there was a club that was offering swimming lessons for children with disabilities, and I thought it was a great way for me to continue my coaching experience, but also to help out the community in Montreal. 

MD: You both mentioned you found out about SWAM. at Activities Night. As co-presidents, how would you pitch your club to a prospective student member at Activities Night?

AB: SWAM offers swimming lessons to children with disabilities. Typically, a swimming lesson for a child with a disability is upwards of $300, but our lessons are about $45. We’re about the only place in Montreal that offers lessons at this level. You’re partnered up with just one instructor for the entirety of eight weeks, every single Sunday for 30 minutes. You see your child become more comfortable in the water and have more confidence in their own abilities, and become more engaged and happy overall. 

MD: You already touched on this in your response, Anna, but why is SWAM important? 

Why is it important that it exists in Montreal?

BLK: There are a few reasons. This is a demographic for whom it’s hard to get exercise. Getting out of the house and doing activities can be difficult for those with sensory issues. SWAM is conscious of this: we have a lot of staff and procedures set up. We’ve had parents tell us that it’s one of the few places that they can just be somewhere. 

A key reason is affordability. Most of the population cannot afford hundreds of dollars of swim lessons every week. We have a lot of new arrivals to Quebec in our program, people who arrive in Canada and have children who are newly diagnosed, and now they have to adapt not only to a new culture, but also what it means to get the right support for their kids. 

It’s the highlight of my week, every Sunday morning when we do this. Because it’s totally different from everything else I do. To me, it feels like real life again. There’s all this other stuff and none of it is kind of real, but this is.  

You show up, and none of your concerns matter to anyone here. It does become sort of trivial. As a student, you’re thinking about graduation and graduate school in these very long time spans. And then I go to SWAM, and you’re making progress on a week to week basis. I think that is refreshing.

MD: On that note, what have you learned from your work with SWAM that has influenced your own outlook on life?

AB: For me, one of the things that I learned is that progress is not always necessarily linear. It requires a lot of patience and it requires a lot of confidence within yourself. I’ve also learned how important it is to make sure that you’re always there to support and encourage each other. 

BLK: I’ll pick up on the point you made about progress not being linear. There was a scheduling mishap a few semesters ago, where a lesson for my swimmer was moved to a different timeslot. For these kids for whom routine is a big, big part of how they move through the world, it throws them off-kilter. They feel uncomfortable. So there were a few lessons where I struggled to get anything done, and my swimmer was irritable. It was like all the progress we had made was gone. 

But then on the next lesson back, seemingly out of nowhere, he swam unassisted, basically unprompted. He just went after it. I was so surprised. After that experience, we realized that for all of us, progress isn’t linear. We like to think that we’re always making progress upwards and so on, but that’s not true. That’s something that I’ve also carried into my day-to-day life.

MD: What is your vision for the future of SWAM? What do you hope children will take from their swimming lessons and apply into their future lives? 

AB: We hope that SWAM is like a stepping stone to the rest of their lives going forward. We’re hoping that these children not only have more skills to be safer in the water, but we also hope that they can build other skills, for example, social skills and communication skills, to be able to create meaningful connections with others.

BLK: To give a concrete example, one of our swimmers had been with the program for three or four years. His dad told us that he had joined a water polo team for kids with disabilities, and that he would not have been able to do that without the swimming foundation he had built.

It would also be nice at some point to build a relationship with the Special Olympics in Quebec. It is a big problem in the disability space that once you age out, resources go to zero. The amount of money that gets put towards programs for children is huge, but once they turn 18, it’s all over. We also hope to expand the chapter to reach more kids.

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

BLK: By virtue of our position, Anna and I have become the spokespeople for SWAM. But really, we’re not the good people. The good people are really the almost 100 instructors who come in every week. It’s not easy getting up on Sunday morning at 9 AM to trudge through snow, to do this for some kid, in a city you showed up in less than a year ago. Without all of them volunteering their time, Anna and I would be two people with a logo. SWAM is the team we have behind us.

AB: Although Ben and I are the heads, typically the ones that make the most amount of difference in the community are our instructors. So I think being a good person is being able to help others out. As a university, we have all of these services and resources, so why not use them to serve underserved populations? 

To learn more about SWAM and opportunities to get involved, visit swammontreal.caor @swammontreal 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

The post “Swimming With a Mission”: Using Sport for Good  appeared first on The McGill Daily.