Kimia Tahaie was an opinions staff writer of the Silhouette from 2021-22.
The Silhouette: Please introduce yourself.
Kimia Tahaie: My name is Kimia and I'm a third-year arts and science student. I'm also double majored in communication and media studies. I'm doing a semester abroad in Amsterdam to do journalism courses because that's what I'm going to pursue professionally.
Could you tell us a short summary of what the situation in Iran is like right now?
This all started with the brutal killing of Mahsa Amini. It's very important to note that this was not the first killing that happened under this Islamic regime in Iran. This is one of many. With the protests that have been happening in Iran, they're happening within shorter time frames. The gap is getting shorter and shorter. It just shows how sick and tired the people are of living in the regime. They're trying their best to stop us but people have been very persistent and they're protesting and even going out on the streets every night even though there's a very large chance of getting murdered. But there have been consistent acts of protest. There has been a continuous movement.
It's just been so many years of oppression. I feel like a lot of people don't know the extent of oppression we've been facing during these past years. We are deprived of the simplest rights as a society, men and women. For example, we can't have pets. If you have a dog, the dog will be taken away from you because that's haram. Iranian women can't bike, Iranian women can't sing, Iranian women can't go on the streets without a hijab. So there are so many elements that have just built up to these protests. That's why I am strongly against a lot of Muslim influencers who are coming out and saying that what Persian women are doing is inherently Islamophobic. That could not be further away from the truth. I think what really needs to be understood is that for me, that's not a hijab. For us, it's a piece of cloth that has been forced on our heads for years and years and years. To us, this is a symbol of freedom. We're not saying to ban the hijab; we're saying to give women the freedom to wear what they want and, in the bigger picture, to give freedom to the people of Iran.
I think what really needs to be understood is that for me, that's not a hijab. For us, it's a piece of cloth that has been forced on our heads for years and years and years. To us, this is a symbol of freedom. We're not saying to ban the hijab; we're saying to give women the freedom to wear what they want and, in the bigger picture, to give freedom to the people of Iran.
Kimia Tahaie
A lot of people think this is a women's movement. This is a human rights movement. Freedom for all. I think in America, Europe and Canada, everyone's very desensitized to Middle Eastern issues. I think this is very well-done propaganda because it groups us as poor people far away — the poor Middle Easterners that we can't do anything about. This can't be further away from the truth. This is not just the Middle Eastern issue: with the freedom of Iran comes the freedom of many countries. This is something I feel like people are forgetting. We have largely funded Russia, meaning that they can bomb Ukraine. This is not "just another Middle Eastern issue". This is way bigger than that. This is a very global issue. If we believe that, it will lead to the freedom of many, many other countries.
What can people outside of Iran do to help?
It's so important to not read what's happening in Iran as just another headline.
My people are literally giving their lives in the hopes of achieving very basic human rights. There’s an Internet shutdown in Iran so don't let [Mahsa Amini's name] stop circulating. Because the day that this dies down is the day that the regime can completely take over.
A lot of my friends, even those who aren't Persian, have asked their professors if they could have a few minutes to talk about what's happening. Consistently keeping yourself in the loop with what's happening and spreading awareness on social media is the most important thing. Also, just checking up on your Persian friends because they're not okay.
What is the value of an apology? That is one of the questions that JUNO-nominated singer and songwriter Khari Wendell McClelland is exploring in his new concert, We Now Recognize. The show, which consists of all new songs, will tour six Canadian cities for Black History Month. It comes to the Lincoln Alexander Centre in Hamilton on Feb. 19 at 8 p.m.
We Now Recognize is a partnership between McClelland and Project Humanity, a non-profit organization that uses the arts to raise social awareness. The two collaborated in 2017 and 2018 to create the documentary theatre musical of the Vancouver-based artist’s debut solo album, Freedom Singer. Freedom Singer interpreted songs that might have accompanied McClelland’s great-great-great-grandmother Kizzy as she escaped from slavery via the Underground Railroad.
This show is another personal work, although McClelland originally took inspiration from the current sociopolitical landscape. The number of political apologies that have occurred struck him in the past decade or so and especially in Justin Trudeau’s term. He began to question what constitutes a substantive and meaningful apology.
In writing the show, McClelland found himself reflecting on being wrong and the extent of his compassion for those who do wrong. He considered how recognizing wrongdoing feels and how to move forward from it. With this, he also thought about the relationships he has with the generations of men in his family.
“[I was] looking at my grandfather and my father and my brother and even considering what it would be to be… a father and what the implications might mean for a larger society… [I]t's men who are exerting power and have a lot of control in society… What are some of the ideas… I grew up with that I have at different times perpetuated in my own life and trying to figure out like what that might look like through a generational lens,” said McClelland.
The show explores other ideas that McClelland cares about, such as community and the way we wield power over the natural world. In bringing different ideas in proximity with one another, McClelland sees the work as an assemblage like a quilt or collage.
McClelland sees being able to explore a multitude of ideas as a way of celebrating Black life. Unlike his past work with Freedom Singer, which tackled the history of slavery head on, We Now Recognize, is a subtler approach to Black history that it more rooted in the present and in the future.
“I feel like there are ways in which black life can be can be understood as a monolith, that black people in Black communities aren't allowed to have a diversity of experiences and perspectives. I'm very curious… about creating some kind of radical subjectivity around Black life, like being able to be all these different ways that we are just as human beings,” McClelland said.
Not only will the concert allow McClelland a chance to bring forth the multiplicity of Black life, it will allow him to stretch himself and grow as an artist. The personal show will force him to be vulnerable in a way that he hasn’t been before with the communities across Canada that has supported him.
McClelland sees the connection to music as something that erodes for many people over their lifetime. For him, however, it is something that he hasn’t stopped doing ever since it became a part of his life as a kid growing up in Detroit. It moves him in a way that isn’t necessarily positive or negative, but just is. He also sees the medium as essential to building community.
“I feel like healthy communities move together. That they practice together, that they have rituals together… [O]ur connection to artful practices actually has the potential to heal us as communities and individuals coming together… has this real potential for a deep kind of healing… I think it is just a deep medicine in the way that we come together and make music and make art,” explained McClelland.
McClelland is looking forward to this tour to see how audiences connect with the new songs. He is eager to see the way in which people are moved by this meditation on wrongdoing and apology, whether positively or in a way that is a little uncomfortable.
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Calculus class tends to involve more rational expressions than artistic ones. Then again, once math started involving more letters than numbers, maybe I shouldn’t have been surprised to find myself searching for other ways to pass time in grade 12 calc. Perhaps it was the transcendental caffeination I underwent before the 8:05 class, or the inspiring topography of my teacher’s ancient face, or just the result of boredom and a nice pen, but as we approached the end of limits, I began drawing instead of deriving.
Before I start to sound too artsy, I should admit that I’m not very good. Perhaps that was a good thing – should Mr. C peer over and see that I was obsessively scrawling his ear, rather that some theorem, I doubt he could have determined what it was. Yet that was what made it such a delightful creative exercise, I was expressing for the sake of creation, not consumption.
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Since arriving at Mac, I’ve stopped engaging in these personal acts of creation. Perhaps it just isn’t a priority, or my classes are simply too complex to while time away but I think that rather than have too few creative outlets, I have too many. If I want to write, there are endless places to be published (hello!), if I want to draw, there’s nothing preventing me from picking up a pen and doing it—no prof will halt a lecture to stop me from doodling.
But that’s the issue: there’s no secrecy, no silent thrill of stolen moments, just a pressing self-consciousness. It feels silly to actually set aside time to sit down and draw - it’s too deliberate. Before, I had an excuse to be bad; of course portraits come out wonky when the subject keeps moving; of course sketches won’t be perfect squeezed between equations.
When I gained the freedom to create, I lost the freedom to fail. This seems like an absurd complaint, that it is too easy to do the things I enjoy, but the issue is really that I am too diffident to enjoy the things I do not find easy. Earlier I said I was not an artist because I will not claim this part of myself without a disclaimer; I need to dash everyone’s expectations so that I can create my own. For some reason self-expression can come with a bizarre pretention, as if suddenly everyone will pounce and ask just who you think you are.
Of course, sometimes that self-consciousness disappears. Sometimes it is overcome with confidence, sometimes just giving up. For me, it came with the realization that I was sitting in another calc class at 1:30 p.m. in pyjamas and sandals, bearing witness to a boring proof. I realized that if no one had noticed my mismatched socks and Birkenstocks, then they’d probably ignore a few pen scratches to soothe my itchy fingers. I had the surprisingly glorious revelation that no one cared. I had held the irrational fear that someone walk up, squint at my scribbles, and ask that fearsome question, “Who do you think you are?”, when really, the only person asking was myself.
