December 2011 Archives

Last Monday, Jason Kenney announced that women who cover their faces with the niqab must show their faces at citizenship ceremonies.

"To segregate one group of Canadians or allow them to hide their faces, to hide their identity from us precisely when they are joining our community is contrary to Canada's proud commitment to openness and to social cohesion. It's important to note that this is an expectation," he said.

Social cohesion via exclusion? His message is contradictory, especially considering women don't show their faces during most of the processes when transitioning from a permanent resident to a citizen.

Kenney also justified his position by referring to a Toronto Sun story that claimed 81 per cent of Canadians supported the regulation. I couldn't help but wonder if any women that wear niqabs were included in those polled, or if that even matters to Kenney. Shouldn't those that a policy affects be consulted on their thoughts rather than a broad cross-section of society? Aren't minority rights about the actual minority?

That got me thinking about what the niqabis that I know think about it. So instead of speculating, I decided to ask. Raffat Zafer is the mother of one of my dear friends. She lives in Toronto and began wearing the niqab three years ago. On Kenney's recent decision, she doesn't mince words: "It's discrimination."

Zafer recognizes there are instances where it is vital to show her face. "For identification it's fine to show your face, and you should," she said. She notes that niqabi women show their faces at the airport for security purposes and generally take no issue with this. She simply doesn't see the relationship between showing your face and the authenticity of taking the oath.

Instead of excluding these women if they don't adhere to this process, why don't we look for other options? Niqabis are happy to show their faces to other women. Isn't there some room for accommodation here?

Kenney preemptively addressed this by stating, "If Canada is to be true to our history and to our highest ideals, we cannot tolerate two classes of citizens. We cannot have two classes of citizenship ceremonies."

The irony in this is that he is creating these classes by banning a part of a woman's identity to ceremonially don the Canadian identity. If women refuse to participate in citizenship ceremonies as a result, what are the implications?

The reality is, there are few practical reasons to become a citizen once you are a permanent resident. One of the major reasons is voting. If Kenney's true intent is to show the equal participation of women and men in the public sphere, he may in fact be pushing these women further and further out.

"It's already quite hard to wear the niqab," Zafer said. She is stared at endlessly in public and once in awhile experiences overt expressions of Islamophobia. She recounts one of these experiences while out shopping, and having a woman intentionally push her shopping cart into her. Zafer feels the announcement of this decision will make wearing the niqab more difficult.

Zafer is already a citizen, but this new regulation still gets under her skin. "It bothers me because after 9/11 Islam has been restricted. No one says anything the Sikh men who wear turbans. To those of us that wear the niqab and hijab, people are constantly telling us were are oppressed. Why isn't anyone telling nuns who wear long black robes and cover their hair that they are oppressed?"

Framing it as a gender equality issue isn't accurate either. It is simply insulting to assume, as opponents often do, that most niqabi women are forced by men to veil their faces. Assuming women who wear the niqab don't have agency is oppressive. Both proponents and opponents of the policy have made this mistake.

Niqab is a choice. Zafer made this choice at the age of 51.

"In my heart I started to feel like I should be wearing it. It is in my religion and in my heart," explains Zafer. She was no longer married and living with her daughter when she decided to start wearing the niqab. There was no coloured man lurking in the corner with threats.

Targeting a particular population simply cannot create social cohesion. Kenney is drawing people into a debate being Canadian when in reality it's a political game, and the casualties are a small number of women that can't swing the vote.

We've seen the worst of Canada come out as a result of this debate. A brief scan of comment boards on the National Post or Globe and Mail is quite revealing. This regulation appears to be a move to appease core Conservative supporters rather than for the true betterment of Canadian society - that is, in the pursuit of true social cohesion. Or maybe I am reading into this too much and Kenney just needs a dictionary for Christmas.

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Sadiya Ansari is a Pakistani-born, Canadian-raised UBC journalism student who loves politics--near and far. You can follow her @SadiyaAnsari.

Have you ever walked into a club and got hit in the face really hard with a continuous play of top 40 hits all night long? You ask yourself, did I just pay money to hear some guy, who they call the DJ, playing tracks identical to what was playing on the radio? I've been in that situation so many times, and it usually includes flashbacks of high school parties where the DJ is comprised of a laptop, speakers, and a playlist. At least that didn't cost me anything.

I needed something more than just what was being offered at so many clubs—DJs' that could spin the hell out of a track; DJs' that could make a track so raw and ruthless that it cut you to the very core, then fill the air with a fierce pounding beat made up of pure exhilaration. Luckily I found what I was looking for when I submerged myself in the culture of electronic music. Fast-forward 5 years, and while I'm pretty content, I still craved that extra ummph. Maybe that was what led me to Feed Me on Halloween night—I ended up finding that extra something in MarX & Sh▲pe.

MarX & Sh▲pe are Vancouverites Ira Grunwell and Michael Dandurand. If you haven't heard of those names, chances are you will in the near future. And if you have, then you know why I needed a little MarX & Sh▲pe in my life.

You don't necessarily get the constructive criticism that you need to push yourself that extra step. You can get lazy so it's good to have that second opinion.

Michael Dandurand

A musical match made in heaven, all it took was an ex-roommate to get evicted and a possible homeless Mike to bring these two together. Mike had been spinning for about 4 years prior to moving in with Ira. "I wouldn't even be doing this if it weren't for Mike. He was the one that got me hooked on electronic music and got me into DJing."

With acts like MSTRKRFT, Crookers, Tribes of Zebras, and Flosstradamus, it seems like two heads are better than one. So what's the appeal? Ira explains: "Some people are very self sufficient and like to have all the control. You have one person that focuses a lot on the production and somebody else focuses on building the sets. It takes some pressure off, so one person can start pumping out all the music and the other person is getting everything ready for the show. When you're doing it all by yourself you might not be able to handle everything."

As Mike puts it, "if you can compliment each other well, it works out. You don't necessarily get the constructive criticism that you need to push yourself that extra step. You can get lazy so it's good to have that second opinion, especially from someone who is experienced. We feed each other off pretty well. If someone is making something half assed and they aren't aware of it because they've been doing it for so long, the other guy will be like, hey, take a step back, let me jump in."

It's definitely a challenge putting together the set, but a lot of fun when you like a bunch of different genres. You really have to get your hands dirty and dig deep.

There's a lot to be said about these guys. Their first gig as an act together was opener for Feed Me. After that they opened for JKF from MSTRKRFT. No big deal right? It's not just their amazingly crafted sets that are bringing attention their way; it's their ability to command a room with their love for what they do. You can see it in their live shows. For them it's all about the people: "Nothing is better than watching. It's like conducting an audience. You're controlling how they are going to feel," Mike explains.

Ira Grunwell

They understand what it means to put on a show. "You're building suspense and getting the audience worked up and people are going crazy and they're wondering what's going to come and then you drop it and boom—everyone's head explodes. It's so satisfying to see people's faces, seeing people's reactions to things." Ira puts things into perspective: "Some DJs are flaccid and they stand there and don't seem to interact too much. It's a huge difference when you see a DJ go all crazy. The crowd get's hyped on the DJ and the DJ gets hyped on the crowd. It bounces back and forth."

With twice the brainpower and creativity, Mike reveals to me that the process behind putting on a show is really quite simple: "We just wing it. iTunes playlist. Shuffle the songs. We use an iPod shuffle and shake it." Is it really that simple? Something tells me that Mike was just pulling my leg. "You want to cater to the type of crowd that will be there. DJing is about being versatile. But you also want to show your own colours as well. That's one of the exciting things for opening up for a lot of these bigger acts. It's definitely a challenge putting together the set, but a lot of fun when you like a bunch of different genres. You really have to get your hands dirty and dig deep. "

Nothing is better than watching. It's like conducting an audience. You're controlling how they are going to feel.

And dig deep they have. If there's one thing I noticed about Mike and Ira, it's their hunger to do something more with their music. It seems that the words complacent and static do not exist in their vocabulary. Their drive to find new styles and influences to incorporate into their music have set them apart from many others in their field. "We've recently got into Moombahton," Ira says. "It's a cool genre to be in. There are so many things you can do with it."

Getting to where these guys are now hasn't been an easy ride, especially in Vancouver, where the market is saturated with people after the same goal: to make a name for themselves. "I've been spinning for about 4 years now, and I have had the odd show here and there," says Mike. "It was mainly more of a hobby, having fun, putting together tapes and doing house parties. In terms of actually getting spots at certain clubs, if you don't know somebody it's going to be a long time because you're battling some guy who is literally just a playlist DJ."

Ira expands on this: "You can get away with having the worst mixing skills, but it's all about who you know it seems. You can't really go around asking to play at this club or that club. They don't know who you are." Mike is on the same page: "That show really paid off. It's about the relationships you build with other people."

It's a huge difference when you see a DJ go all crazy. The crowd get's hyped on the DJ and the DJ gets hyped on the crowd. It bounces back and forth.

"That show" Mike is referring to is the night they opened for Feed Me on Halloween. The guys are still trying to wrap their minds around that. "We had too much fun that night. We had so much support from our friends. They all came early to watch us. It was just amazing to see that."

What I love most about the electronic culture is the uninhibited nature it brings—everyone is there to have a good time, regardless of sex, gender, or colour. You meet people from all walks of life, all wanting to loose themselves in the music. "It's like a family in there. Everyone is happy and it's like a community in some clubs. That's the type of crowd we want to draw—more positive and good energy." That shouldn't be too hard for them. Their music is nothing but positive vibrations.

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Jocelyn Gan is a graduate of English and Communications from SFU. She loves all animals, but her heart is cat shaped. She hopes to release her cat fashion line in the near future.

Two years ago, I was hurrying through Roppongi Hills, the trendy and central Tokyo hotspot known for its Christmas lights, thinking it was all very beautiful, and also very empty.

I was on my way to Harajuku to meet friends for the Cirque du Soleil production Corteo, playing to sold-out audiences in Tokyo at the time. The repeated television spots, cheerful posters on subways, and prominent magazine features promised a magical evening filled with wonder.

The magnificent set did not disappoint, with its 360 degree stage, enormous trampoline beds and various ceiling contraptions. The circus tent was packed with families, couples, friends, all rosy-cheeked both from the cold and excitement. Everything was in place. The lights dimmed, the music began, and as the grand performance began, there was a hush in the crowd. All we had to do as an audience was sit back and prepare to be dazzled by the spectacular show.

However, as the show progressed, I sensed hesitation on some of the performers' faces. They were expecting explosive applause, but received only polite clapping. What could be missing?

The lights, the sets, the atmosphere was there. The acrobatics and the performances were incredible. But the missing element was human connection.

In Japan, Christmas Eve has become the holiday, after Valentine's Day, for couples to cozy up, reserve expensive restaurants and hotels, and, with the accompaniment of sparkly somethings, declare their love for each other without reservation. Forget the family holiday, Japanese couples celebrate the night with such fervour, one can almost feel the aching for romance.

Christmas is not a national holiday in Japan, nor a day of historical or religious significance. The Christmas tradition is created and amplified by advertising execs and media moguls each year, partly to allow the Japanese a chance to release themselves completely, with the help of excessive romantic lighting and gifts. It's a time when they can say out loud, "I love you. I really love you!"

Back in that circus tent, I sensed that the Cirque du Soleil audience wanted to clap wildly and scream their hearts out. It wasn't that they didn't appreciate the performers, but they were afraid to really express it.

Halfway through the show, a performer stepped off the stage and into the audience, in hopes of engaging the reserved crowd. A risky move, I thought.

The performer selected a tall, well-dressed Japanese man in the front row, with a shaved head and goatee, who possessed a certain ease. Plunking his top hat on the man's shiny head and scrunching his face up as clowns do, the performer made fun, and to the relief of the entire crowd, the man played along. The audience laughed, secretly thanking this Japanese man for representing them in a fun and accommodating manner. It was the first time I laughed all evening.

Trees near Rockefeller Plaza in New York. Photo by KiKi

Little did I know that I would meet the man with the shaved head and goatee two months later, in a town 1,000 miles away. By complete chance we met in a cafe near my Okinawa apartment. We're still together, in New York City.

My thoughts turn to Japan, where the March 2011 earthquake and tsunami in Tohoku left so many children without parents, parents without children, and families without homes. The country feels economically and emotionally claustrophobic, stuck in a dark tunnel without light. This year, the Japanese were forced to remember they are not alone, that their virtual girlfriends are not going to supply them with the warmth of a human hand. That the Christmas lights are not going to infuse them with real energy or love. They have re-learned the concept of giving to those in need, and more importantly, they've begun taking a look at themselves.

So this year, amongst the spectacle of Christmas here in New York, it's not the lights and gifts and the Justin Bieber songs that make my Christmas meaningful.

The atmosphere is set. But you create the magic.

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This is my final column of the year, and after a holiday break, will pick up again in January. Thank you for reading along with me, for responding with your comments here, and on Facebook and Twitter. Meeting all of you here on Schema Magazine has been a true blessing.

I believe in paths crossing for a reason. Thank you so much.

Happy Holidays!

Kiki will be back with the rest of her series on January 9, 2012. Stay tuned!