The 2023 class of studio arts takes on intersectionality and decolonization through their graduating exhibit at the McMaster Museum of Art
From Apr. 6 to 28, SUMMA 2023: Where We Intersect will showcase the work of this year's bachelor of fine arts graduating class.
Where We Intersect: Identities, Environments, Activisms has a focus on the stories of the artists. They each created works that fall into one or more of these three realms. The media of the exhibit is made up of a large variety, including drawings, paintings, photographs, installations, printmaking sculptures, projections and sound based works. The aim of the exhibit is to exemplify the newer generation’s resilience in the face of a global pandemic, violence, environmental devastation and existential angst.
“It's a very turbulent time that we're in and I think that this work conveys a kind of a sober, but also a hopeful kind of collective inquiry into how do we cultivate resilience in these turbulent times,” said Mosa McNeilly curator of SUMMA 2023.
“It's a very turbulent time that we're in and I think that this work conveys a kind of a sober, but also a hopeful kind of collective inquiry into how do we cultivate resilience in these turbulent times,”
Mosa McNeilly, curator of SUMMA 2023
McNeilly first met with the students in January to begin preparations for the exhibit. The first meeting was dedicated time for studio arts students to consult with McNeilly on their progress on their pieces and to plan an overarching theme for the exhibit. The students came up with the title, Where we Intersect, and after consulting with them she decided on the subtitle, Identities, Environments, Activisms.
The title is a very important aspect of the exhibit. For SUMMA 2023, it was important to the artists to explore intersection and intersectionality. The students of this exhibit were aware of this concept and as they discussed their positionality within current society, the conversation sparked the finality of the theme of the exhibit.
“There's an intersectional ethic in how [the students are] seeking to understand their relationships with each other and in their analyses of how they position themselves in terms of race, place, ability, spirituality, sexual orientation, gender and ethnicity,” said McNeilly.
The students in this exhibit truly impressed McNeilly over the time she has spent working with them. She believes they took the many forms of media to accentuate their own thoughts. Moreover, she was impressed at how they all had a focus on decolonization within their work.
They each had ideas for how they wanted their work to be presented and to step away from traditional practices. It gave her hope that the future generation of artists will embrace intersectionality in their work and question their position relative to it.
“What I find compelling about this group of emerging artists is [that there is] impetus towards decolonizing . . . [The students] were not interested in conventional, formal museum aesthetics, some of them, they wanted to push against those standards of presentation,” said McNeilly.
“What I find compelling about this group of emerging artists is [that there is] impetus towards decolonizing . . . [The students] were not interested in conventional, formal museum aesthetics, some of them, they wanted to push against those standards of presentation,”
Mosa McNeilly, curator of SUMMA 2023
The intersections between love, sex, health and the facets of our identities
Intersectionality is an inevitable result of the fact that people’s identities are multidimensional. A term coined by law professor and advocate Kimberlé Crenshaw, intersectionality reflects how different aspects of who we are — from race to gender, sexual orientation to religion and disability to socioeconomic status — influence our lived experiences. In recognition of this fact and to honour these stories, we have asked our communities to share how identities intersect and shape our unique encounters with love, sex and health in this year’s Sex and the Steel City.
Growing up in a rather conservative South Korean household, I rarely engaged in conversations around love, sex and health, particularly mental health, with my family. I recall talking my mom about what I learned during health class in elementary school. The look of alarm and shock on her face when I said the word, masturbation, in front of her for the first time forbid me from saying it again so openly. In another instance when I was visiting family in South Korea, my dad shot me a sharp, disapproving frown at my spaghetti strap tank top. I remember a wave shame took over as he told me to go change into something more appropriate for a young girl.
Developing a healthy relationship and mindset around love, sex and health took a long time, especially as I learned to accept our differences and overcome my family’s cultural views and biases around these conversations. It probably wasn’t until my senior years of high school when I began to speak more vulnerably about my experiences with these topics. It was all due to the friends, teachers and communities that taught me not be afraid to speak up and made me feel validated.
This is why spaces like Sex and the Steel City where people can freely and openly share stories and deliberate on these so-called taboo topics are important. This year’s theme, intersectionality, was inspired in part by my upbringing and experiences but also in recognition of the fact many others also understand how different systems of oppression and aspects of identity affect how we view relationships, sexuality and well-being.
This issue is home to intimate, perhaps what many may consider controversial, special stories. I want to thank everyone, including the Silhouette staff, who contributed their perspective, artwork and narratives to create this wonderful issue. I’m honoured and grateful for the folks who entrusted me and gave me permission to share their thoughts and experiences with the rest of the McMaster community.
To you, dear reader, I hope this issue can serve as a space to explore, (un)learn and reimagine what love, sex and health can look and feel like. There aren’t enough pages in this issue to capture all the different stories of intersectionality and love and I acknowledge there are missing voices in this issue. However, I hope you find and resonate with at least one memorable artwork, image, article, sentence or word while reading this issue — I hope we made an impact on you. Additionally, if you see a gap in the missing pages that you can fill;, it’s also not too late to contribute to us.
C/O Yoohyun Park
Intersections between Blackness, culture and self-acceptance essential in constructing individuals unique experiences
By: Ahlam Yassien, contributor
As an Ethiopian woman in Canada, I haven’t had the opportunity to think concretely thought about my identity and what my identity means to me.
Instead, my identity has been constructed through experience and at least, for myself, experiences of self-hatred and acceptance were intrinsically intertwined.
For example, as a child I begged my parents to allow me to cut my hair and perm it, not because I hated my hair but because I felt it would be easier to manage and would make it stick out less in public. Nonetheless, my hair remained long and curly, in part because I did genuinely like my hair long even if I felt my frizzy hair made me stand out, but also because hair is a prized possession in my culture.
So, on one end my culture encouraged me to value my natural hair while on the other it also taught me my worth was directly connected to my hair. However, the desire to have straighter hair has been promoted in many Black communities and myself alongside other Black women have been simultaneously fighting for different kinds of acceptance which were all rooted in confronting anti-Blackness, whether that be acceptance from our White peers, from within our culture or from within our own communities.
When I found myself styling it to appear more similar to the hair of those around me, I fell into a hamster wheel of self-hatred as my hair lost its volume and curl, making me feel as if my worth had also decreased. The desire to remain valuable in my culture was clashed with my desire to fit into Western culture.
These experiences of trying to reconcile cultures as well as ideas of self-hatred and self-acceptance are common for many Black folks.
“Since I was a kid my parents have always reminded me to love and embrace my country, my history and my culture. Ethiopian culture is very religious and is all about celebration — celebration of life, culture, family and God. However, my [culture] also categorizes their own people . . . an example is like skin color. They're always uplifting and loving lighter skin tones more than darker skin tones. Body shaming and sexism are also common,” explained Beemnet Feleke.
Though it’s also worth noting that while many Black folks have these shared experiences of self-hatred and discomfort, the experience of being Black is still felt differently across groups. For myself, the desire to remain beautiful both within and outside of my culture had been at the forefront of my struggle with self-hatred and self-acceptance but my experiences as an Ethiopian Black woman are certainly different from the experiences of many others not only within the Black community but within my own culture as well.
For example, in certain Caribbean communities, anti-Blackness rhetoric is so heavily ingrained in the culture and history it often goes unnoticed. Consequently, children grow up maintaining and enforcing it in their communities.
“Throughout her childhood, [my mother] was taught that if you were of lighter skin and had looser curls, that you were “prettier” or superior than others who didn’t have these characteristics. She was also taught that one with Eurocentric facial features had “nice” facial features. Unfortunately, as a child these notions were passed on to me as well. I used to project my feelings and perceptions onto other classmates and friends, which, unbeknownst to me, was [perpetuation of] anti-Blackness. Now, as a young adult, my perceptions of Blackness have changed drastically. I hope that with the knowledge I have today, I can educate others in hopes of eradicating texturism, featurism and colourism,” explained Donelle Peltier.
It’s also important to note it is not the fault of these cultures themselves but rather the result of the White supremacy and colonialism that run rampant in many histories. Interrogating anti-Blackness remains an important goal within and outside of the Black community.
While sharing these experiences can help with this and highlight diversity within the Black experience, they still only paint a fraction of the full picture, a picture which may never be entirely clear. However, that doesn’t mean sharing these experiences is any less important, particularly because of the essential part culture plays in upholding and denouncing anti-Blackness.
C/O Yoohyun Park
Turns out, we’re not all in this together
By: Hadeeqa Aziz, Contributor
cw: mentions of Islamophobia, racism, and violence against minority groups
From our Wi-Fi routers working overtime to keep up with multiple Microsoft Teams calls running, to accidentally disclosing our not-so-pleasant thoughts about a class over unmuted microphones. The pandemic has definitely proven to be a difficult transition. With that, most of us have been striving to transform our new-found schedules into well-oiled machines over the past year and a half.
The pandemic has been hard on everyone and adjusting to the “new normal” has embedded itself in our conversations as a catch-phrase of sorts. The transition has especially proved difficult for university students, who now have to navigate through remote learning in addition to managing their regular course loads.
Nonetheless, we’re all in this together, right? Or better yet, “we’re in the same boat,” aren’t we? This is where most are mistaken.
If the pandemic has shown us anything, it’s that for most problems that are seemingly shared among everyone, they are highly discriminatory in how they choose their victims and to what extent.
The issues faced by students during online learning are no exception.
Although most students have continued their studies from the comfort of their at-home learning environments, unfortunately, the same cannot be said for all of them. An article by The Harvard Gazette noted that online-learning has been particularly challenging for first-generation, low-income students, especially those of colour. In addition to fighting against long term battles of inequality, these individuals find themselves more vulnerable to psychological issues as well.
The factors contributing to increased mental health concerns for Black, Indigenous and People of Colour students and those belonging to marginalized communities are intersectional in nature.
Whether they may be financial hardships, healthcare issues, or social justice concerns, the problems that these students face build upon each other. This dramatically magnifies the otherwise “normal” problems that the pandemic has brought upon students.
For instance, first-generation BIPOC students may be deprived of the right to receive adequate education from professional institutions to the same extent as their other tuition-paying counterparts. These students are more likely to experience financial hardships, as they may not have generational wealth to rely on.
An online shift has meant a heavier reliance on suitable devices, stronger internet connections and a greater need for sufficient study atmospheres outside of the classroom and lecture halls. Whether we’re inclined to admit it or not, the new system favours those who are financially stable and have means to access study tools and resources that would allow them to better excel in their classes.
Financial burdens can also result in an inability to carry out COVID safety measures to a comfortable extent. While most long-term stable-paying jobs were able to shift online during case-peak times, small businesses and most minimum-wage jobs required in-person interactions. Factors like these resulted in increased COVID-19 cases among such communities, leading to illness concerns for students residing in these areas.
See how everything keeps building on top of the other? And there’s still more.
A conversation about the intersectionality of it all cannot be discussed without addressing the underlying racial injustices that are the ultimate rooting problem. Let’s talk about the longstanding racial trauma that these students have to face. In the last year or so, Black students quite literally fought for their lives, Muslim students begged for safety against violence, Indigenous students fought to simply be acknowledged and various other racial and ethnic groups battled for basic privileges that were otherwise not given.
Online classes are but a minute task when accompanied by these factors. Failure to see the evident connections that can be drawn from these issues is simply a decision to remain ignorant.
This is not to say that stressors that affect the general student population aren’t valid–they most definitely are–but it’s important to recognize and acknowledge the intersections that come into play for others. These experiences cannot be addressed until they are understood. As classes slowly begin to shift from fully remote systems to hybrid ones, it is absolutely vital for institutions to take into account how different students experience school and come up with unique and novel ways to approach such issues. We’re not “all in this together” until that happens.
Talking about race for the sake of talking about it only makes you guilty of virtue signalling
By: Zara Khan, Contributor
CW: racism
Perhaps you’re at a conference, class or even a meeting. Wherever you may be, I’m certain you’ve come across this strange ritual. Sometimes it’s expected, other times it’ll take you by surprise, but you’ll know it’s started when you hear a word like “equity.”
Then it begins. On one hand, the ritual begins where your white colleagues or classmates will spend a few hours or so emphatically declaring that “racism is bad” and that “we should do something about it” in various forms.
On the other hand, you, a person of colour, will sit there and nod your head, while everyone makes awkward eye contact with you. Whatever the case may be, if you’re anything like me, you’ll know that it’s a trap.
A trap? Yes. You see, these conversations aren’t meant for people like me. Rather, they are an opportunity others use to cleanse themselves of any harm they do as a white person. They rarely resonate with me.
Recently, while attending a virtual conference, I found myself part of another ritual, again. The topic of discussion? Equity in hiring and networking. I stayed silent. I knew that engaging would only leave me feeling frustrated. But, I caved and made a point.
I explained how I never had the opportunity to learn the social codes I needed to navigate predominantly white spaces. This left me feeling othered. “It is difficult to make a good first impression at an industry dinner if you’re too worried about what fork you should be using,” I said.
My point was met with an awkward silence. Though, perhaps in an effort to empathize, one person joked about how they too were unaware of the technicalities of cutlery usage. To be quite honest, I was upset.
Through sharing my experiences, I made myself vulnerable. I wanted to move the conversation in a different, more meaningful direction but I quickly realized that my point was more of a detour.
Issues of equity are often talked about like they are simply theoretical exercises and when I shared my lived experiences, others treated my comments as if they are out of scope. While we talked about systemic barriers during the conference, we did not talk about what those barriers might actually be. When I brought one up, the point was awkwardly swallowed and ignored.
Perhaps this explains my cynical view. These discussions feel like pointless exercises in alleviating white guilt, exercises I’m forced to sit through. So yes, I can’t help but roll my eyes every time I hear the word “intersectionality.”
Perhaps this explains my cynical view. These discussions feel like pointless exercises in alleviating white guilt, exercises I’m forced to sit through. So yes, I can’t help but roll my eyes every time I hear the word “intersectionality.”
Perhaps this explains my cynical view. These discussions feel like pointless exercises in alleviating white guilt, exercises I’m forced to sit through. So yes, I can’t help but roll my eyes every time I hear the word “intersectionality.”
Honestly, I don’t think this is intentional. I’d like to believe that these panels and discussions are held in good faith. But that doesn’t change the fact that I am simply frustrated by their lack of depth.
Consider the term “person of colour.” I have to confess, I dislike it. The vast majority of the world’s population are people of colour. There are far more differences between our experiences than the current discourse seems to acknowledge.
We are not a monolith. Yet, we are treated as such. Though there are some similarities, it’s fundamentally unfair to equate my experiences as a South Asian person to an Indigenous person’s experience.
Specificity is essential to having meaningful discussions. Rather than talking about people of colour as a whole, we could highlight the experiences of specific ethnicities. Rather than asking about what systemic barriers exist, we could pick one such barrier and consider its causes and effects.
Taking care to make sure that the terms we use allow for specificity should generate meaningful discussion and make space for relevant lived experiences.
Now, let’s consider how we can have more meaningful discussions during events like these. Honestly? We need to be listening more. During conversations like these, people seem to talk for the sake of talking, myself included. But if you really have nothing to contribute the best thing you can do is listen. Listen and learn.
During conversations like these, people seem to talk for the sake of talking, myself included. But if you really have nothing to contribute the best thing you can do is listen. Listen and learn.
This brings me to my second point: ask questions. This is the way you learn. Now, there’s an art to asking a question. You want to make sure that your question is appropriate. Say a classmate mentions that they’ve experienced a racially-motivated assault. Maybe don’t press for details. But, you might ask them about what they found most challenging about navigating the legal system afterwards.
Asking a question like this will perhaps teach you something you didn’t know. Ask questions that will clarify the gaps in your knowledge, ask questions that will force others to think. This is how we generate meaningful conversation.
Ultimately, we need to reframe how we approach discussions of equity. We should use them as opportunities. Opportunities to understand others, opportunities to solve problems. Yes, racism is bad. Yes, we should do something about it. But what should we do about it? We don’t seem to ask ourselves that question enough.
Kyle Park
The Silhouette
On Nov. 15, McMaster Health Sciences, in conjunction with contributions from Canadian women’s health advocate May Cohen, organized a double research lecture featuring the research of Marina Morrow and Don McCreary. Held at McMaster Innovation Park, the two lectures revolved on the relationship between gender and mental health, which addressed issues ranging from the historical discourses on female mental health to the current trends of male body image.
The conference began with Marina Morrow, an associate professor of Health Sciences at Simon Fraser University, who presented a lecture entitled “Women’s Mental Health: Beyond Gender Matter” which discussed mental health as a gendered construct.
As the crux of her argument, Morrow discussed the notion of “intersectionality,” a theoretical lens that acknowledges the systemic processes by which mental health is constituted through gender, sexuality, race, class and ability. Morrow proposed that the intersectional approach effectively enables feminist thought to expose inequities within the health system, acknowledge the diverse contexts of women’s lives, and deconstruct the relations of power with regulatory bodies such as policymaking.
Intersectionality is “an emerging research and policy paradigm which seeks to reveal the complex interactions among multiple social categories,” said Morrow.
In exemplifying mental health as "gendered", Morrow provided case study examples on suicide and diagnostic practices. One such story she spoke on was Amanda Todd, the fifteen-year-old high school student from British Columbia who was bullied to the point of depression and later suicide. Morrow articulated how Todd’s death reflects larger social structures at play in her therapy, that is, how health inequity is part of a “whole social gestalt.”
With diagnostic practices, Morrow argued how the women are main targets of the pharmaceutical industry for anti-anxiety and sleeping pills and bridges this trend to historical notions of women as “irrational and potentially hysteric” in contrast to men. In addressing the importance of her research, Morrow stated her intention in having this conversation is to “illuminate social and structural factors that influence the mental health and well-being of women and men.”
Morrow concluded her talk in calling for a social justice framework, a “gender and sex based analysis” on mental health and thinking about new ways to address policy change.
Don McCreary, adjunct professor of Psychology at Brock University spoke on the current research on male body image.
His presentation “Current Research in Boys’ and Men’s Body Image” commented on the erroneous presumption that men and boys are more satisfied with their bodies than females. His findings from numerous research studies suggested the complex many men possess to achieve a “muscular ideal” which he made clear as a culturally constructed ideal. McCreary terms the psychological disposition “muscular dysmorphia,” referring to one’s belief that they are smaller and skinnier than they actually are.
In contrast to the typical female psyche dealing with being ‘over’ weight, McCreary discussed how males are conditioned with a drive for physical bulk or muscularity. He went on to propose a correlative parallel between muscularity and masculinity whereby men who are ‘bigger’ view themselves as more ‘manly.’
Another study conducted by McCreary and his colleague Stanley Sadava brought to light the idea that underweight women and overweight men view themselves as healthier than if they were overweight or underweight respectively.
The conference concluded with an acknowledgement of the culturally constructed ideals defining gender. Although muscular dysmorphia is not acknowledged by the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. McCreary stated he believes the condition to have significant ties obsessive-compulsive disorder.
In the concluding part of the lecture, McCreary emphasized how masculine muscularity, albeit a “cultural ideal,” possesses the potential for very real psychological effects on the male psyche.
Morrow and McCreary are still continuing their research in unpacking ideas of mental health and gender.
