We are stronger together when we love one another
C/O Jon Tyson on Unsplash
In 2020, I was given the insurmountable task as Arts and Culture Editor to create and produce the Silhouette’s annual love and positivity issue, Sex and the Steel City. A tradition for each person in my role, the beginning of SATSC dates back at least 10 years ago.
While it has evolved over the years with each A&C Editor giving it their own spin, the core values remain the same: to give the McMaster and Hamilton communities a creative outlet to talk about sex, body postivity, identity and love. In recent years, SATSC has focused on diversity, self-identity and this year, we focus on education — both formal and informal.
Over the last three years, we have seen a regressional way of thinking from our provincial government. One of the first acts that Premier Doug Ford enacted when elected was to repeal the then-new sex education curriculm.
Updated in 2015 by Kathleen Wynne’s Liberal government, this was the first revision sex-ed had seen since 1998. Topics surrounding 2SLGBTQIA+ communities, sexting, gender identity and consent were added to better keep up with modern values. Instead, the Ford government proposed a new curriculum; however, after much lobbying by students, little was changed.
In the United States and around the world, homophobia and transphobia still run rampant. Sex work continues to be criminalized. Many still wonder if they should teach their kids about “taboo” subjects. While these are issues that are larger than any one person, these are topics that are explored in this year’s Sex and the Steel City. Our way of acknowledging and bringing awareness to these issues that continue to plague society.
Now more than ever, we need unity. We live in a divided world. We live on a divided continent. We live in a divided nation. We live in a divided province. Now is the time to take action, to stand up for what you believe in. Now is the time to unite (albeit virtually) to create change and to be a voice for the voiceless.
Sex and the Steel City is a small annual reminder of that unity that we should all strive for. I hope you take the time to read through the 36 pages of this extended special issue. May this issue serve as a reminder: a reminder that we are stronger together when we love one another.
Sometimes the most important relationships in your life aren’t your own
One of our favourite family movies is White Christmas. Every year since we were little, my sister and I would attempt to emulate the singing sister duo from the film (sadly without their spectacular outfits) by belting out their song, “Sisters”: “[L]ord help the Mister who comes between me and my sister and Lord help the sister who comes between me and my man!”.
With me being three and her five at the time, the notion of a “man” coming between us seemed completely absurd; our sisterhood was ironclad and eternal.
Fast forward 14 years and the “mister” had arrived in the ominous shape of my sister’s first boyfriend. I met him for the first time when he and my sister came to pick me up — a power imbalance I found deeply frustrating (after all, how could I put him in his place when he was my ride home?).
Completely unprepared for what felt like the most important interview of my life, I interrogated him for a full half-hour. Needless to say, when the car ride was over, I didn’t know what to think of him.
But I knew one thing for sure: this boy had come to take my sister away from me. She could only love one of us best and he was vying for the top spot. This was a state-of-emergency, DEFCON-1 level crisis. I began wartime preparations.
But I knew one thing for sure: this boy had come to take my sister away from me. She could only love one of us best and he was vying for the top spot. This was a state-of-emergency, DEFCON-1 level crisis. I began wartime preparations.
People who say big brothers are protective have clearly never met a little sister. Over the following months, I turned into an amateur private investigator (more Clouseau than Sherlock, I must admit).
Every time we met, I would theatrically narrow my eyes and badger him with questions, certain that I would finally uncover a fact to prove his complete and irrefutable unsuitability for my sister. I was deeply unsuccessful, to put it mildly.
To my horror, I found out that he was actually kind of funny. Well, that wasn’t going to work for me — I was the funny one in our sisterhood. If she was busy laughing at his jokes, she wouldn’t have any time for mine.
He also turned out to be rather hard working and was really nice to her. But aside from stealing her clothes and periodically destroying all her makeup (trivial concerns, really), so was I!
However, the more I talked to him, the more I realized that I just couldn’t reconcile the picture I had of him in my head as a rude, good-for-nothing interloper who would do nothing but cause my sister pain with the reality that he was actually a nice, upstanding guy. In matters of the heart, though, reason counts for very little.
Failing to discover incriminating information, I turned to less sophisticated methods to scare him off: I became really, really mean.
I would call him nicknames to our family friends, I made rude faces whenever he was brought up in conversation and I even made a (losing) bet with my parents about how long he was going to last (the shameful reminder of which lives on in my Google Calendar forever).
I snidely informed my sister one day, “I can’t understand what you see in him”.
“That’s because you’re immature,” she replied.
I had become so cruel, angry and resentful that I barely recognized myself. Understandably, my sister became upset over why I was treating her boyfriend so badly; what had he ever done to me? My mom told her I was just jealous.
The truth is that she was right. But I wasn’t jealous of her, I was jealous of him.
Growing up, my sister was my idol. She was the prettiest, smartest and most confident person I knew and in my mind, I held her atop a pedestal.
Her attention and affection were necessary for my personal validation and I worried that he would take that from me. Was I really so replaceable to her?
Was I really so replaceable to her?
One day I walked into my sister’s room and I saw dozens of pictures of her and her boyfriend on the wall. She was beaming in every one of them. In that moment I realized my incredible selfishness.
I thought he was the one damaging our sisterhood, but in reality, I was the one who had inflicted the harm by denying her the right to affection beyond my own. It was a tight fit, but there could be room for three peas in this pod after all.
In case you thought this was a Hallmark movie ending, I’ll tell you that I haven’t fully gotten over my sisterly identity crisis quite yet. Just the other day I had a rather traumatizing “dream” (it was definitely a nightmare) that they got married — clearly, I still need some time before I can consider taking our relationship to the next level.
My sister and her boyfriend are still going strong and seeing them now makes me thankful that my meanspirited meddling didn’t ruin a good thing.
Even more importantly, I learned that sometimes the most difficult, life-changing relationships you will experience aren’t even your own. The “mister” wasn’t the villain in our sister-saga. I was — and we all know the bad guy never wins.
Brass Beauties empowers Hamiltonians with the art of pole-dancing
Seven years ago, Lisa Esposto started pole-dancing. She originally bought into it to strengthen her core. After a month of pole-dancing, she became hooked on taking daily classes.
“It helps me a lot mentally, helps me look at myself in a different way, [I] became more confident in my everyday life . . . It also helps with some physical appearance demons that most females deal with at some point,” said Esposto.
A year later, she purchased the studio from the owner, turning it into Brass Beauties. The name comes from the foundation of treating everyone equally beautiful, as explained by Esposto.
“Everyone creates their own beauty. You can see your instructor, but you’re never going to move like them; you’re going to find your own way. It may be a hybrid, but you’re going to put your own twist on it,” said Esposto.
“Everyone creates their own beauty. You can see your instructor, but you’re never going to move like them; you’re going to find your own way. It may be a hybrid, but you’re going to put your own twist on it,” said Esposto.
As an owner, Esposto’s main responsibilities primarily look at the finances and management of the studio. But as an instructor, she helps women to feel more empowered in many different ways.
“Anybody can do it, you just have to put the time in like everything else in life . . . It’s just how much you want it,” said Esposto.
On a personal level, Esposto tries to ensure women are comfortable within the studio. She provides them with a space to dance that empowers and distracts them from what’s outside the studio’s four walls.
“Life is hard outside, it’s just a space to let them forget about the crappiness of life. If they’re having a bad day, they talk to me and we just go from there. I look at them as my family,” said Esposto.
Despite the studio not being your typical weights-based gym, Brass Beauties still provided a social atmosphere to its dancers.
“Not only are they getting a workout, but we also joke around. So they are missing the social aspect of it right now,” said Esposto.
Esposto also re-iterates how the dancers come together as a huge support system and thus, motivate each other.
“If someone catches you slacking, they’re going to call you out,” said Esposto.
Brass Beauties holds a variety of classes: fitness, dance, tricks, flexibility and hammocks.
The fitness class is all-levels whereas, for the dance classes, they vary by levels, from beginner pole-dancing with heavy instruction to more advanced classes where freestyle is available.
A popular trick class includes upside-down dancing. Flexibility classes include all types of stretching. There is also a floor dancing class, so dancers can transition from the pole to the floor and vice versa.
While the majority of the patrons are adult women, the studio has offered four-week hammock classes for children prior to the COVID-19 pandemic. Now, due to the pandemic, the hammocks can’t be used due to public safety guidelines on cloth usage. With that being said, there are plans for the studio to expand its target audience.
“The plan is to, at some point in the future, incorporate male students. We’ll probably run another children’s program, which was a huge hit,” explained Esposto.
Aside from the classes, Brass Beauties holds two annual shows. Their last show was just before the March 2020 lockdown. They also participate in the Festival of Friends every year, where dancers perform with a portable pole. Two years ago, the studio had the opportunity to participate in Supercrawl.
In the pandemic, the studio had the opportunity to re-open from July to December, in accordance with the provincial government’s guidelines and restrictions.
“It’s a bit of a struggle to offer online classes because not everyone has the equipment [pole],” said Esposto.
When thinking about the long-term future of the studio, Esposto emphasized the importance of exposure to more festivals and accessibility to equipment.
“Right now, my main focus is getting out of COVID and getting the girls back on the poles,” said Esposto.
“Right now, my main focus is getting out of COVID and getting the girls back on the poles,” said Esposto.
Reflections on accompanying loved ones in pain
By: Serena Habib, Contributor
cw: Mentions of self-harm and mental illness
In The Vampire Diaries, the vampires had an inner mechanism called a “humanity switch.” This allowed them to turn off any emotions that made them human so they could completely and carelessly follow their desires.
While I am grateful for my sense of empathy every single day, I sometimes wish I had a little knob I could turn to decrease the pain love brings when people around me are hurting.
While I am grateful for my sense of empathy every single day, I sometimes wish I had a little knob I could turn to decrease the pain love brings when people around me are hurting.
However, empathizing with others allows us to build connections and make a difference in the lives of people around us.
In an interview with Self magazine, Gottman Relationship Institute Co-Founder Julie Schwartz Gottman said that a person’s ability to empathize with others is what makes friendships last.
Psychologists Daniel Goreman and Paul Ekman outline three forms of empathy: cognitive empathy, the ability to understand another person’s perspective; emotional empathy, the ability to share the feelings of another person; and compassionate empathy, which allows us to understand the other person and moves us to take action to help them.
But what happens when your friend has been suffering severely for years from a mental illness? You can see from their perspective, you are agonizing in their pain and you have already tried everything you can do to help, but it doesn’t feel like it makes a difference.
I am scared. I am tired. I dream about her dying and I awake to her messages about how they are hurting themselves. Yet, if my friend was dying from cancer, I would stay with her until their dying day. How is it any different with a mental illness?
I am scared. I am tired.
The definition of love as understood in our society can be summed up by the famous Bible passage from 1 Corinthians. I think about that quote when I think about our friendship.
“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud.”
I am being patient and I am being kind. I do not want to be friends with anyone else. I do not think I am a better friend. I am not prideful about what I have done in the friendship for I know we have helped one another.
“It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.” I try not to be angry, but it enrages me to see people suffering so gravely due to circumstances they cannot control.
“Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth.” I am grateful for the honesty in our relationship and I want to be there as a listening ear. Our friendship was built upon rawness and mutual support.
“It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.” I always refrain from saying things that will be triggering or telling my friend how much this is hurting me because she already feels guilty for it. I do not give up and I never will give up on her being okay.
I always get excited at little glimmers of hope when she messages me about recovery or when we text about mundane things all day, but then I am dejected when the illness re-emerges and I once again see myself losing my best friend.
I get swept up in this whirlwind of pain and hope and confusion and I feel like I am trapped by the friendship that has brought me so much life and liberation.
I get swept up in this whirlwind of pain and hope and confusion and I feel like I am trapped by the friendship that has brought me so much life and liberation.
But then I realize that friendship goes both ways. I am not being honest with myself or patient with myself. I am expecting myself to do everything perfectly and blaming myself if anything goes wrong.
I need to follow these rules for myself. I need to be honest when I need time to put on my oxygen mask so we can both make it through these tumultuous times. Seeing as I can’t flip a switch to make this change, I’m not quite sure how to do this, but I am working on it.
Sorting out my disoriented understanding of love
I’ve always struggled with the question “tell me about yourself.” It’s as if suddenly I forget who I am as I sift through the mess of traits that make up me. The truth is, people are complicated. We all have multiple identities and part of the struggle of being young is trying to uncover them all.
For many years I considered my parent’s divorce a defining part of my identity. The way I thought about relationships, platonic and romantic, was influenced by my fear of being emotionally vulnerable.
I internalized emotions and I kept most people at a distance. Around the few close friends I let into my life I was an open book, but the rest of the time I remained closed off.
Thinking back, there’s not a moment I can remember where my parents enjoyed each other’s company. My parents divorced when I was nine and for a while, things were pretty messy. All I remember thinking was that it was better this way, that everyone was far happier.
I remember travelling to school with my backpack and a grocery bag full of my favourite clothes as I switched between my parent’s houses every two days. Living across town, I led two different lives and had to learn to switch between my identities each time my environment changed. I didn’t choose to be Hannah Montana — it’s just something that happened.
Whenever my parents came to support me in extracurriculars or school events I would end up anxious, running back and forth between them, trying to balance my separate identities.
Seeing them both, I couldn’t imagine a reality in which relationships were positive. I lived in the wreckage of an emotional battle. If I was sure of one thing, it was that I never wanted a relationship for myself.
Seeing them both, I couldn’t imagine a reality in which relationships were positive. I lived in the wreckage of an emotional battle. If I was sure of one thing, it was that I never wanted a relationship for myself.
Watching my mom, a strong and fiercely independent woman, I always knew that when I grew up, I only wanted to rely on myself. It wasn’t sad or lonely to me — it was smart.
I never felt a need to seek out relationships because I believed that to love someone you first had to love yourself. So I turned inward, determined to build a strong enough sense of self that I would not be hurt by emotions if I ever began to feel for someone.
I had convinced myself and those around me that I was wounded from my parents’ divorce. That I was not interested in finding a significant other. I told myself that I didn’t want to be attracted to anyone but surely, I should have been.
Having no other ideas and a burning desire to fit in, I began to fake it. I remember spending a night in with my roommates, swiping through Bumble. I couldn’t understand what they meant as they rated the attractiveness of each new profile that appeared.
That night, I ended up scrolling through all of Bumble, swiping on a few men so as not to feel so abnormal. The truth is, I couldn’t understand the feelings my friends felt.
I had convinced myself and those around me that I was wounded from my parents’ divorce. That I was not interested in finding a significant other. I told myself that I didn’t want to be attracted to anyone but surely, I should have been.
Not long after, I became suddenly more exposed to queer stories through the media I was consuming. I was fascinated by the queer characters in the TV shows and movies I came across.
Seeing these characters represented on screen allowed me to come to terms with the legitimacy of a feeling I had been ignoring for so many years. I was finally able to admit to myself that I am attracted to women and the world finally clicked into place.
At the same time, I was faced with the unease of internalized homophobia and a lifetime of exposure to primarily heteronormative narratives. I was raised neutral to the queer community in that it was seldom a topic of conversation in my house.
But being exposed to a world that assumes heterosexuality as the default instilled in me a feeling of otherness towards the community.
Though I questioned myself, I remembered the same-sex crushes I’d had all through my childhood and teen years that I passed off as admiration or platonic friendships without giving two thoughts to the matter.
I could finally see what my friends had been speaking about all along. Yet I couldn’t help but wonder what my earlier life would have been had I been exposed to more queer stories earlier.
For so long I blamed my parent’s divorce on my disdain for relationships and love. Yet all along, it was just me being unable to see myself for who I am.
For so long I blamed my parent’s divorce on my disdain for relationships and love. Yet all along, it was just me being unable to see myself for who I am.
I think back to the unfortunate conclusions I drew about love so early on in life because I was lost and I wish I could tell myself to keep searching. I recognize that I still know very little, but if I’ve learned anything, it’s that everyone loves differently and everyone’s love is valid.
With something so personal, we all have to figure things out on our own time for ourselves.
Students reflect on the importance of sex education both before and during university
Growing up, I took a lot of art lessons. I remember one class our teacher brought out a rickety, old, wooden chair from the back room and put it on top of her desk. The chair would be the focus for this lesson, she explained, but we weren’t going to draw it.
We were going to draw everything around it — the desk it was standing on, the wall behind it and all the papers tacked to it, just not the chair.
Sex education is often defined in the same way: in terms of everything that it isn’t. This is especially true of sex education in schools. Long since a controversial topic, the debate around the content of sex education in schools often revolves around the negatives, that is, what shouldn’t be featured or what isn’t.
However, though the emphasis is typically put on sex education in schools, it is also worth noting that education doesn’t end in an institution. We’re also educated, implicitly or explicitly through our culture, our experiences, our families, the media we consume, our religion and many more places. Education happens everywhere.
It also happens in the negative space left behind and what we don’t say or do is just as important as what we do.
It also happens in the negative space left behind and what we don’t say or do is just as important as what we do.
“It's kind of like cultural conditioning. Whatever you're conditioned to do at home, you're going to do outside of the home as well. So if at home, you're taught to be embarrassed about menstruation, about sex, you're going to project that once you leave home as well. It's hard to unlearn things, especially when they've been culturally inherited because that's just all you've known,” said third-year student Japleen Thind.
“I come from a culture that doesn’t really value sex education. This is a very dangerous mindset . . . it caused me to have the wrong idea about sex education and it caused me a lot of trouble,” explained fourth-year student Shae-Ashleigh Owen.
In my conversation with students, there was a very clear distinction between their experiences and thoughts about sex education before and after coming to university.
Before University
Before coming to university, most students described sex education as something that happened almost exclusively in schools. For many students, it happened with male and female students having separate discussions, often in entirely different rooms.
“When I think back to my experiences, I remember any time that boys and girls were together, it would be a lot of hushed giggles and a lot of people being embarrassed and not really wanting to talk. So having that divisiveness in all honestly was kind of effective. Like when the girls were learning about periods, we could ask questions, we could be open . . . That being said, there are repercussions. That is a very fundamental way that we install stigma around things like periods and other sexual education topics,” said Raisa Ahmed, a fifth-year student.
“That kind of separation throughout sex education was definitely very prevalent in my experience. We were split up into our groups, we’d go into separate rooms and we learned different things. And then it kind of felt like this secret, like, “I know all these things now that the boys don't know” and I feel like you don't think about that when you're younger, about how you're learning different things than they are. But then when you get older, you realize it's kind of important that everyone learns the same thing so that we're all equally knowledgeable about sexual health and anything relating to that,” said Micaela McNulty, a fourth-year student.
It should be noted that while the Ontario public school sex education curriculum was revised most recently in 2019, students currently in university who attended Ontario public schools would have been taught using the 1998 curriculum. A smaller portion would have also been taught using the 2015 curriculum put forward by former Liberal premier Kathleen Wynne.
The 1998 curriculum was not as comprehensive as the 2015 one, as it did not address gender identity and sexual orientation. This lack of representation was something that many students felt strongly about, both at the time and looking back. They wished it had been discussed in more detail.
“[We] didn't cover queer and trans sex education, which for many queer trans students is super harmful. And it's hard for them because they don't get that knowledge from anywhere else, especially if they're not living in an environment or a home that may be conducive to having those conversations,” explained Christian Barborini, a fifth-year student.
“[We] didn't cover queer and trans sex education, which for many queer trans students is super harmful,” explained Christian Barborini, a fifth-year student.
Looking back, students noted they had a much better understanding of what they wished they had learned, while as children they didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the topics being discussed. Some suggested that this might have been because they hadn’t yet had any experience applying their education.
At University
Experience tends to fill in the gaps of education, however, those experiences aren’t always positive.
“Truthfully, I feel like most of my sex ed learning has come from being sexually active and being in university. It's such a crazy environment. I feel like you're so young and you're going into these experiences and there's just so much I didn't know . . . I wish I knew about consent and stigma and UTIs and yeast infections and so much stuff that wasn't covered. And it sort of makes me angry a bit . . . I just had to learn by experience and that sucked,” said Mavis Lyons, a fourth-year student.
Some students also noted that negative experiences in particular can isolate students, making it difficult for them to feel connected to the community or leaving them vulnerable to further negative experiences.
Overall, experience brought up questions or thoughts that students may not have even considered in the classroom education. This is why many students felt that sex education shouldn’t end in Grade 9, as it does in most Ontario public schools. Like all education, it is an ongoing process and it would be beneficial if the formal education system reflected that.
“Obviously, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't start early. But I think when we teach developing kids and young adults, it doesn't resonate as much until they're older and have actually experienced that stuff. You're not going to remember everything you learned in Grade 8 or Grade 9. So you need that constant education and to be constantly connecting those points as you go along, otherwise it's not really going to mean anything,” explained Ahmed.
Sex education — or lack thereof — can have significant influences on students’ wellbeing and sense of community. But open conversation can go a long way to improving both of those issues.
Since coming to university, many students have gravitated towards spaces where there is the opportunity for such conversation, such as the Pride Community Centre, the Women and Gender Equity Network or clubs like Period at McMaster.
“I needed a space like the PCC when it came to university because I didn't have that before. So I think that that speaks to the importance of community and community organization, especially for marginalized communities when it comes to sexual health because we don't get that anywhere else. I know that for me understanding sexuality and my sexuality specifically was a journey that did affect my mental health at one point when I started university and, connecting it back to the PCC, that's the reason why I value the PCC and other queer organizations that I have worked for. Because they've offered me that space to explore my identity that I didn't get in elementary and high school,” said Barborini, who is also the coordinator at the PCC.
“It felt almost therapeutic just having a space to discuss what your experiences are, especially on a taboo topic. I think that can be really helpful . . . just having an open space to talk about your experiences has been really valuable,” explained Thind, who is a member of Period at McMaster.
Students felt that these spaces have been especially beneficial to their mental health and their overall sense of wellbeing. Their involvement in groups such as these has helped them better understand topics related to sex education and health.
“Now that I went to university, especially with [Period at McMaster], I found more people who have had experiences like mine and I don't find it embarrassing anymore . . . I feel super comfortable talking about it now,” explained Celia Arrecis, co-president of Period at McMaster.
These groups also provide a vital sense of community.
“I think just the sense of community in the sense of having like-minded people around me who care about the same things [has] been a pretty positive influence on my mental health,” added Ahmed, who is the founder and co-president of Period at McMaster.
Conversation is essential to encouraging education and both are integral to fostering a sense of community. There is an increasing awareness about the importance of both, thanks in part to McMaster clubs and community organizations. Moving forward it’s important that we continue to have open conversations and educate ourselves so that we can bring sex education out of the negative space it’s occupied for so long.
What happens when your sister starts dating your close friend?
By: Niko Haloulos, Contributor
When my sister started dating one of my closest friends, I felt like I was looking into a kaleidoscope. I was distracted by the twisting shapes of my emotions, thoughts and feelings, but as time went on, I decided to look at their relationship as a full, unified pattern and it changed everything.
When we were allowed to see a few friends outdoors, I hosted a 19th birthday party. As smoke and laughter filled the air, I peeked over to see that my friend had snuck into the chair beside my sister. I guess they had been talking the entire night, even though they had never met before.
I woke up the next day and realized that my sister was acting giddier than normal. When I asked her about it, she simply said, “You know, if your friend there ever asks for my number, you can give it to him.”
Suddenly I realized that my friend and my sister had begun to develop something that they both thought was special. I couldn’t hinder that so when I met up with my friend a few days later, I offered to give him my sister’s phone number. He accepted.
I did not think much about the consequences of setting them up. It seemed like pretty standard procedure, just passing along a phone number and encouraging my friend to ask her out on a date.
At the time of the party, my sister was only a few months removed from a gruelling breakup so this felt like a good way for her to meet someone for whom I had the utmost respect, trust and love. For my friend, it was a chance for him to meet someone who would help him become a better man. So why did I have such a problem with it?
My sister was only a few months removed from a gruelling breakup so this felt like a good way for her to meet someone for whom I had the utmost respect, trust and love. For my friend, it was a chance for him to meet someone who would help him become a better man. So why did I have such a problem with it?
I began to close myself off from the two of them and I felt myself disliking my friend for a few weeks. I constantly reminded myself that I had offered to share my sister’s phone number and that I had known that he would be a really, really good match for her. Even though I knew this deep down, on the surface I could not help but feel like they were pulling themselves away from me.
I knew I could trust my friend but suddenly, like the flip of a switch, I went into protective brother mode. I couldn’t look at my friend without wondering how he was going to treat my sister poorly and though I know she can stand up for herself, it felt necessary.
Whenever my friend would come to the house, it felt like my sister and I were fighting over him. I would only be allowed in the basement for a certain amount of time because eventually she would ask to be alone with him.
I would throw the “Well, he was my friend first. Why can’t I talk to him?” and my sister would become frustrated. I said passive-aggressive things about their relationship and got angry whenever she said he was coming over.
Soon enough, my sister became worried that I had a problem with their relationship and the anxiety in her expression when she asked me was devastating.
I didn’t own anybody. My sister is strong and knows her own worth, but for her to suddenly think that she would be offending me was a wake-up call.
My friend, too, became worried that he had crossed some kind of line. He asked my sister if I was truly unhappy about them being together and said he wished I would talk to him personally. When my sister told me what he had said, I was saddened.
I had been blinded so much by my pride that I forgot to consider one thing: happiness. Being with my friend had brought a sparkle to my sister’s eyes that had been absent for a long time. My friend, too, slowly began to change, becoming more mature.
I had been blinded so much by my pride that I forgot to consider one thing: happiness. Being with my friend had brought a sparkle to my sister’s eyes that had been absent for a long time. My friend, too, slowly began to change, becoming more mature.
After long talks with my sister and my friend, we reached a better place. We still had some small riffs, but the instances of disagreement became more lighthearted, rather than rooted in jealousy and regret.
When he came over to see my sister, I knew my only role was as the brother. When my friend and I planned to hang out, I didn’t discourage him from saying hi to my sister.
I’ve realized that all three of us have become stronger emotionally by sharing this love that propels itself in different directions. My trust in my friend has grown exponentially because of how he has treated my sister.
While we’ve always been close, I have been able to communicate more openly with my sister since her relationship with my friend started.
The awkwardness took time to clear and I had to communicate very openly about how I felt. Now I’m still standing in the middle ground, figuring out how to equally distribute my time between my friend and my sister and not get in the way of something truly special.
Their relationship is not a violation, but more of an invitation for me to explore just how appreciative I can be about something that is so genuine, pure and beautiful.
Male-identifying students share their perspectives on masculinity
In Michael Ian Black’s New York Times essay, The Boys Are Not All Right, he expressed his opinions on the topic of masculinity far more eloquently than I possibly could.
“To be a girl today is to be the beneficiary of decades of conversation about the complexities of womanhood, its many forms and expressions. Boys, though, have been left behind. No commensurate movement has emerged to help them navigate toward a full expression of their gender,” wrote Black.
The Silhouette sat down with male-identifying students to hear their takes on masculinity and how their experiences have shaped their self and gender identities.
Avery Jackman
In his fourth year of the health and society program, Avery Jackman is loud and proud of his identity. Through his work with CFMU’s Rainbow Radio and more, he encourages students to lay claim to their identity.
Jackman views masculinity as complex and multi-faceted. An outer reflection of your inner self, masculinity is something deeply personal and individual. Concurrently, finding one’s own definition of masculinity involves an interplay of historical, societal and biological factors.
He described his elementary school experience as a time in his life where he couldn’t necessarily pinpoint what masculinity was but began to understand how to ascribe to it — how to walk, how to talk, how to sit.
“My earliest memory [of discovering the concept of masculinity] was unfortunately as a young kid, being bullied for being different. I distinctly remember it because I actually found an old picture from kindergarten . . . of me with my friend in the kitchen wearing a pair of heels and a dress. I didn't think anything of it until the picture was posted in the hallway and older kids had seen it,” said Jackman.
Dance and self-expression helped Jackman find his identity through the years. Growing up, he described a constant inner conflict between his own style of dance and that which he was taught to ascribe to — a hyper-masculine archetype of the “male lead.” Jackman currently teaches heels dance classes.
“I [decided] to find a style of dance that aligns with my identity and how I want to express myself. It's art and art is not up to one person's perception. It's what you want to do and what I wanted to make was a dance that showed men being fluid, quote-unquote feminine and challenging gender and dance,” said Jackman.
It was in university that Jackman really began to experiment with identity expression, noting the importance of friends who allowed him to be authentically himself in his personal journey.
“I remember the first time I wore heels to school, before I left the house I called my friends to say, "I'm wearing heels to school. I need you to be on speed dial just in case something happens. Either hate crimes or I fall and get embarrassed. I need you to be there for me because this is a big step." I [was] feeling overwhelmed . . . It's important to have a good group of friends and have a support system,” said Jackman.
Jackman hopes that students understand that gender is a non-binary, individual concept with no set model. How you choose to express your masculinity or femininity does not need to align with anything you've seen before.
“Create your own path through the [world] . . . People's journey of self-exploration is personal and something that, even though it, unfortunately, is politicized, is also not up for debate. Once you learn to unpack the things that you've learned and been taught, you start to invite the person you want to be without the social constructions of others telling you who you should be. Show [that person to] the world, even if there is backlash. I guarantee you, somebody will appreciate you for it, someone will love you for it and somebody will be inspired by it,” said Jackman.
Max Pinkerton
Max Pinkerton is a fifth-year commerce student who plays for the McMaster rugby team. This past year, he was in charge of the McMaster Movember campaign, advocating for men’s mental health.
Pinkerton grew up playing hockey and rugby, both of which are extremely physical sports. He described the norms that arose as a product of the competitive sports environment. Although the ideas of “manning up” or “being a man” came up, he also found a sense of brotherhood in the shared journey of claiming one’s own identity in sports.
“There’s definitely a sense of unity when you all struggle together. You don't have to struggle in silence, it's something that you can talk about. The strength is in showing your weakness and moving forward,” said Pinkerton.
In his pursuit of destigmatizing open discussion about masculinity and men’s mental health, Pinkerton proposed not shying away from difficult conversations and taking the initiative to talk to friends and loved ones about gender.
“[Men] make up 75% per cent of suicides [in Canada]. That is a crazy number to think about, but I think the fact that we're now having discussions about it, — talking about why this number is so high and what we can do to [motivate people] not to tough it out, but actually talk to others about it — goes against that old school concept of being a man. I do think it's changing, and it's changing for the better,” said Pinkerton.
Rogelio Cruz González
As the president and founder of the McMaster Men’s Health Society, Rogelio Cruz González is a second-year life sciences student with a passion for advocacy and men’s health. In his personal journey with gender, González explained that he began to grasp the concept of masculinity when he moved to Canada from Mexico in his early teens.
“In North America, it’s a bit more open-minded when it comes to how men are expected to act. In more [traditional] cultural backgrounds, like Mexico, it's still very enforced that men have to be the providers. They have to be the strong person that carries the family on their shoulders. They're the ones that show determination and courage and strength . . . and that's partially due to the fact that they still stick to their traditional roots of the nuclear family,” said González.
As González has had the opportunity to explore what it means to be a man in various cultures, he has expressed disappointment in certain cultures’ restrictive views.
Having seen the repercussions of trying to make one’s self-identity fit into these restrictive moulds, González stressed the importance of open discussion with others on the topics of masculinity and mental health.
“Often times as men, we fail to take care of ourselves and that ultimately not only impacts us but it impacts the people around us. If you're not good to yourself, those problems eventually start to [outwardly] express themselves . . . If [people] really try to care for and invest in themselves, to make sure their own needs are met and their own desires are reached, we will create this positive change,” said González.
Tristan Lindo
In his third year of communications studies and a player for the McMaster men’s basketball team, Tristan Lindo described masculinity as a term denoting a sense of respect and power.
As is the case with many individuals, the portrayals of masculinity and body image that Lindo saw in the media as a child largely shaped his definition of masculinity.
“When [you’re] younger, you look at the media and you're seeing these big muscular guys and then you look at yourself. I have a more slender build, so I [would] think, “am I not a man?” Now that I've matured and gotten older, I realized there's way more to it than that,” said Lindo.
Lindo wants labelling to be less normalized, in the goal of breaking down stereotypes of what it means to be a man.
“It's kind of happening right now, but I wish society could come to a place where there's no real image of masculinity. Kind of like what they've done in the beauty sector — how they've now recently said that all sizes, all shapes and all colours are all beautiful. It should be the same thing for men. All men are masculine,” said Lindo.
For students, Lindo imparted the importance of staying true to one’s own identity.
“People are going to have their own perspectives, views and opinions. Stay true to yourself, and don't let anyone's opinion shake you then. Don't let anyone tell you what you are and what you are not,” said Lindo.
By: Esther Liu, Contributor
Morghen Jael is a third-year arts and science student who has been in a relationship with her boyfriend, Zooey, for two years.
The Silhouette: Are you living together or in a long-distance relationship?
Morghen Jael: We do not share a lease but he is living full-time at my house. So he has a student house in Westdale that he has a lease with. But because of the pandemic and because he actually has an immuno-compromised housemate at that student house, he decided to just move in full-time with me here because we didn't want to worry about him switching back and forth and exposing all of us to double the amount of people.
So yeah, we technically live together even though that wasn't what I was planning for at this stage of the relationship. It feels kind of soon for full-time living together, but that's what it is and it's been working.
What are the pros and cons of living together?
The pros were that we would get to see each other. Otherwise, we kind of felt like, at the beginning of the pandemic, it was one extreme or the other, so he's either going to stay or we're going to be apart.
So it felt like we had to make that choice and it was almost a no-brainer: we're going to choose to be together. We love each other's company, we're part of each other's daily lives in so many ways, so let's just get together physically—we can do it.
It was great to have support 24/7 [because] it was stressful with the pandemic [and] it's also just a stressful life period of my life. I just started medication for my anxiety actually, right at the onset of the pandemic . . . That was a really big paradigm shift in my life, so it was actually great to have Zooey there for those first few months of adjusting to my medication and also just adjusting to the pandemic.
So I think for both of us it helps to have the other one around. People talk about loneliness during the pandemic and I think we never had that problem because we had each other. We're really great friends in addition to being boyfriend and girlfriend, so we get along really well, we're good at coming up with things to do.
One of the cons of moving in together full-time was the lack of privacy. I think I felt this more than him, just different people that we are. I like to have a little more time alone in my own space, having solo dance parties in my room to let off steam to kind of retreat into my own world. So lack of privacy was something that we both dealt with.
Even just physical privacy — we have been sleeping in the same bed now for all these months. He'd come over to sleep before, but not night after night. That took some adjusting. I'm not gonna have my physical space all to myself anymore: how can I maintain my bodily integrity, how can I stand up for myself? I'm like: "Okay, this is too much snuggling, I need to go for a walk."
Could you elaborate on how you've been maintaining your relationship?
We have been making sure to take the little bit of personal space that we can. I think that's been really helpful in making sure that we can still tolerate each other when we're together. So we've been going for solo walks. At least once a day, each of us goes for a walk alone . . . Also, on the opposite end of the spectrum, we've been doing dates and stuff.
Every time a monthly anniversary comes up, we'll either order in some food or cook some food and then we'll make it as special as it can be inside my bedroom. So we'll have some music, have a glass of wine and try to replicate a date scenario so it feels like we're still dating [and] not just roommates.
How has your relationship grown because of COVID-19?
I think the pandemic may have helped me to become more honest about my physical needs, like a little more literate, even. I remember using euphemisms to talk about sex or body parts or body functions. In the first year or so, I was kind of like "Oh, I can't tell him about this health problem" because I was a little embarrassed or I didn't know what words to use.
But now we've been thinking about our physical health a bit more. We've been in a closer space so we see each other's bodies more and I'm getting more comfortable being like "Okay, I have a yeast infection." But I'm at the point now where I could tell him that I have this physical problem, here's how you can support me, but you don't need to know everything and I got it. So yeah, I think that's been kind of an added dimension and I think that's also just both of us maturing as people.
Do you have any additional comments?
I just think there are lots of different love stories during the pandemic. Love and sex because sex is definitely an important dimension of this that isn't necessarily coupled with love . . . It's important to remember that romantic love is not the end-all and be-all. People are exploring friendships, deep and new friendships, or their sex lives, their own personal sexuality.
Oh, here's something else: I bought a vibrator for the first time during the pandemic. So I was experimenting with a vibrator. It's been kind of fun to let Zooey try it too, not for himself but on me, and that also goes with becoming more comfortable with my body, with talking about my body and his body. So anyway, I'm just saying that there are all different types of sex and love stories going on in people's lives.
Thoughts from an Indian emigrant on arranged marriages
By: Sharang Sharma, Contributor
cw: mentions of gender-based violence
As a kid, I was always proud of my parent’s love marriage. For those of you who are not familiar with arranged marriages, the term “love marriage” may feel redundant. As an Indian emigrant, I was always aware of the dichotomy between these two, though I never really understood the difference.
I used to think that arranged marriages were strange, archaic and even barbaric rituals, where families forced their children into unwanted marriages where they would live loveless lives.
So I was proud of my parents. They escaped! They were romantic revolutionaries! But as it tends to be with most things in life, things weren’t this simple.
Though there are still countless forced marriages that occur in and out of South Asia, arranged marriages are just defined as those first set up by the families of those being wed.
One family has an unwed son, another an unwed daughter (since these are, for the most part, very heteronormative) and the two families think they’ll like each other. They set up a meeting and see how it goes between them.
I once thought arranged marriages only occurred in India, but many emigrants still get arranged marriages. Often the couples live out long and loving marriages, as my aunt and some of my uncles can attest to.
Yet still, this notion struck me as strange. Isn’t love meant to be individual? Isn’t love supposed to come before marriage? After all my years living away from India, my family and the culture to be found there, I couldn’t really fathom the idea of getting an arranged marriage and why one would do so. So I asked my parents about it.
After all my years living away from India, my family and the culture to be found there, I couldn’t really fathom the idea of getting an arranged marriage and why one would do so. So I asked my parents about it.
Usually I think of arranged marriages as an old tradition, so I was briefly baffled by my dad’s story of putting up an advertisement in the local newspaper to find his sister a match. He took a small break from his doctoral research to go around meeting the families of prospective matches, a “scoping study” as he jokingly called it.
He met a “shady” Delhi family and another from Chandigarh, whom he described as trying really hard to come off as “trim and prim.” Finally, he met my uncle’s family. They were nice, well-off, their son (my uncle) was employed and they even had some links to family friends!
After a bit of vetting with these family friends, they decided to set up a meeting between my aunt and my uncle-to-be and soon enough they agreed to marry each other.
The red thread running through his story was family. Usually in such marriages, the wife will go and live with her husband and his extended family, becoming a part of his family. This isn’t just a union between two people, but between two extended groups.
The red thread running through his story was family. Usually in such marriages, the wife will go and live with her husband and his extended family, becoming a part of his family. This isn’t just a union between two people, but between two extended groups.
What my dad did was make sure that the family that his sister would become part of one that would take care of her. This was a process to ensure she would be happy.
However, there was a darker, blood-red thread running parallel. My grandparents wanted my aunt to marry someone from the same caste and class: this was a non-negotiable.
This aspect of arranged marriage is something we cannot overlook, especially as it becomes more normalized through shows such as Indian Matchmaking.
Due to my mom’s bad experiences with arranged marriage, she is not a fan of the institution. She remembered one United States ex-pat, who had a short-list of his prospective matches and the grades he had given them.
That’s right. Grades. B, B+, A- and so on his short-list ran. One word stood out as she spoke about this: “humiliating.” Being graded as though one were a mere collection of attributes and characteristics which could be quantified and maximized.
The other experience was being pressured to marry by a certain age. My mom not so fondly recalled her dad pressuring her to get married before she was “too old.”
Well, she knew a woman who had been pressured into an unwanted marriage and her husband had turned out to be emotionally and physically abusive. This was not the life my mom wanted.
The pressures my mom and other women faced are less prevalent for men. My dad got married in his early 30s and his parents never tried to push him into a marriage he didn’t want.
This dark side of arranged marriages had turned me against it when I was young. My mom had told me all about it: arranged marriages are steeped in patriarchal practices. Though perhaps not the barbaric practice it is often viewed as in many western countries, it is not a clean one either.
My mom had told me all about it: arranged marriages are steeped in patriarchal practices. Though perhaps not the barbaric practice it is often viewed as in many western countries, it is not a clean one either.
Talking to my parents was elucidating, but still, I don’t think I could ever get an arranged marriage. However, this is not to say that love marriage and marriage as seen from a more western perspective are perfectly ethical.
In fact, talking to my parents helped me realize the issues obscured in our own rituals of dating, love and marriage. Class and caste are important for many people but only arranged marriages are upfront about it. It would also be absurd to imagine that we have totally torn down patriarchal structures.
Rather than only criticize these issues in arranged marriages, we ought to use them as a mirror to examine our own practices of love.
