Good morning!

For this week’s blog post, many people focused on many aspects of our CAP Stream. While most of them centered towards ASTU, and the novels we’ve been reading in that class, a few of them encompassed the Group Lecture we had with all our CAP Stream Professors (With the exception of David Ley!)

The Group Lecture focused primarily on the #BlackLivesMatter campaign, which originated in the U.S but has since then gained global power. It is a campaign movement that addresses the harsh systematic inequalities of African Americans and calls for action a more equal treatment of their lives.

The blog posts discussing this campaign brought up very interesting points, which I will now share with you.

Firstly, Ben‘s blog post talked about how you can never really understand something without living it. He mentioned how he could read every single article on the campaign, but it would only serve as primary data. For him to fully understand the #BlackLivesMatter movement, he had to also understand the significance personal anecdotes. Statistics are definitely one way of understanding a topic, however, testimonies and stories can sometimes serve as much more valuable (and accurate?) depictions. People are not just numbers!

On the topic of personal anecdotes, next comes Mariana! Mariana gives us her own testimonial perspective of the globalized movement of Black Lives Matter. She mentions how she, as a Latino Woman, has less of a chance of success, simply because of where she’s from. She questions the fairness behind culture and colour having an impact on one’s future. Additionally, Mariana discusses the kids who are affected by this movement. She explains how this specific movement is vouching for kids who’ve been told their whole life that their dreams are subpar and secondary to those of perhaps their white classmates.

“…if kids can’t dream, if they’re not told that they have just the same opportunities as everyone else, if they don’t believe that they are entitled to rule the world, then what can they hope and aspire for in life?”

Lastly, I want to talk about Ramon’s blog post. Ramon also, like Ben, emphasizes the importance of personal testimonies. Ramon mentions how his Geography TA shared his own experience, and, therefore, contributed to Ramon’s understanding of the campaign, highlighting the “circumstantial frailty of the situation”.

This just goes to show that the personal can be just as, or even more, important than the total. You can hear about the statistics, and watch the videos, and share the hashtag on Facebook, however do you really understand a campaign that advocates for rights you already have?

This brings into question the counter-movement All Lives Matter. All Lives Matter was created as a sort of backlash to Black Lives Matter, dictating that we should not only be concerned with Black Lives, because – well, All Lives Matter. The problem with this counter-campaign is that it trivializes the opinions and perspectives of the members already in Black Lives Matter. It’s telling them that  yeah sure, they matter, but hey – so does everyone else, you’re nothing special!

Black Lives Matter was created as a way to combat the systematic racism present in the United States, however, it does nothing to trivialize the harshness faced by other minority groups – it simply states it’s own presence in the Global fight for rights. All Lives Matter is taking this advocacy and lowering it to diminished standards, ignoring that while All Lives Matter, not All Lives Are Equal.

Until next time!

Naima

I first read this blog when I was class blogger a few many weeks ago. Through all the blogs I’ve posted about, or commented on since then, the one that stood out to me most was Olivia’s.

Olivia brings up the question of locality when she discusses globalization. She mentions that although being a citizen of both Canada and the U.S., she only feels local in a few select places.

Having moved a lot as a kid, the question of locality always bothered me. I’ve lived in 2 different houses in Montreal, 3 in Markham, 2 in Toronto and now my college dorm in Vancouver. So where am I local?

Am I local wherever I have distinct memories and connections? If so, maybe I’m local in Montreal.

I can certainly tell you about the best cafes in Montreal, around the corner from my old house, near the park where I chipped my tooth. Although… from my Vacation to Paris a few years back, I can also tell you the best cafes there, and the one restaurant where my dad tricked me into eating escargot (surprisingly, not that bad).

In fact, I can probably tell you about cafes in Seattle, New York, Florida, and London, despite never having lived in those places.

Maybe locality is limited to wherever you’ve lived. I certainly don’t feel local in Vancouver, only having lived here for a few months. I do, however, feel more local in New York because of my family’s many shopping trips there.

Perhaps I have to live somewhere for an extended period of time to be considered local there? However, I spent 8 years living in Markham (ages 5-13), but aside from my old houses, a few of my friends houses, my elementary school and the McDonalds nearby, I can’t tell you much else. I also spent 4 years living in Toronto (ages 13-17). Despite the shorter length of time, I can tell you just about anything you’d need to know about it.

Evidently enough, I think the topic of locality is a tricky subject to handle. I think locality is a state of mind, not a state of being. Maybe you’re local wherever you feel comfortable.

As for me, I don’t know where I’m local. Judging by a degree of comfortableness, I’m local wherever I have WiFi and access to Google Maps.

Ben’s latest blog post was on the subject of  The Joy Kogawa Fonds from the field trip our ASTU class took to the Rare Books Museum.

In his blog post, he compares letters written to Joy Kogawa by regular adults, some children, and former Prime Minister Pierre Trudeau. He mentions that, compared to the other letters, Pierre Trudeau’s letter seemed fake and borderline rude.

I too, read this letter at the Fonds, but I had a different opinion. I remember thinking, “Wow, the former Prime Minister of Canada wrote Kogawa a letter telling her he was excited to read her book?! That’s about the coolest thing in the world!”

However, after reading Ben’s blog, I’m being forced to reconsider my opinion. Compared to the other letters, Trudeau’s letter was insubstantial and lacked a real connection. I never really noticed before because I wasn’t comparing it to other letters. I was, in a way, starstruck, and taken aback that Pierre Trudeau took time out of his day to type out a letter to an author I was reading. It was exciting for me at first glance.

But in reality, Pierre Trudeau, or a representative of him, printed out 50 words on government official letterhead, and mailed it.

I do understand that the Prime Minister is busy with probably far more important things but I don’t think that an extra 10 minutes fleshing out a letter would have killed him.

Perhaps he relied too heavily on everyone reacting to his letter the same way I first did, and not analyzing it like Ben did.

Whatever the case, Ben’s blog did a great job comparing the different types of letters, and I’m glad I got to read it and form a more cumulative opinion on Pierre Trudeau’s letter.

By: Naima M.

A couple weeks ago, Harnoor created a blog post that related our reading of Persepolis to Shahzad’s essay. She explained how we each have our interpretive communities that influence and shape our understanding. She also mentioned that the first time she read Persepolis, she was a lot younger (close to Marji’s age) but that time the content didn’t resonate with her as much as it did this time around.

This got me thinking about how our understanding of the world changes due to a shift in interpretive communities. In Harnoor’s case, her interpretive communities regarding Iran derive from her Iranian friend, her interest in Shahs of Sunset and now, Satrapi’s book Persepolis. The first time Harnoor read Persepolis, she may have been lacking some of the interpretive communities that are present to her today, for example that friend, or that reality T.V. show. This will obviously influence the type of content that resonated with her at that age.

This can also be applied to a broader range of ideas and people. Our opinions on some subjects obviously change and mature as we get older, but perhaps it’s not because we’re getting smarter, or more tolerant. Perhaps it’s because we’ve surrounded ourselves with a completely different interpretive community than before. As we grow older, our group of friends is likely to change; people move away, you lose touch. Whatever the case may be, old friends are often replaced with newer ones, with different opinions and different insights to bring.

Maybe this is a different way to look at loss. Maybe we can stop seeing loss as a negative thing, but as the potential to be positive.

As you get older and your interpretive communities branch out, broaden or in some cases, completely change, so does your opinion. In fact, we may just be a mixture of ideas from our interpretive communities.

Loss can be subjective. After all, when you lose your phone, it may get replaced with a newer, shinier version of itself.

By: Naima Mansuri

Hey class!

I hope you all had a wonderful weekend.

Today, as the Class Blogger, I’m going to sum up all of the blog posts you submitted earlier this week. It was surprising to me just how many of you had something to say about Persepolis – in fact, I believe most if not all of you mentioned the affect Persepolis had on your life.

Persepolis, by Marjane Satrapi, was a graphic novel assigned to us in our first month of our Art Studies class. It brilliantly showcased the Iran-Iraq war, and the revolution that took place through the eyes of Marji, a 10 year old child. As discussed in class, many of you noted the affect “Marji” had on our understanding of the war. More specifically, Joey mentioned in his blog post, how children are usually regarded as being “universally innocent and happy”. Marjane Satrapi used this pre-existing notion to convey the harsh realities of childhood in Iran to us. Ben also spoke out about the use of manipulating childhoods in his blog post. He mentioned how, on page 102, the young boys tricked into fighting for the regime had died holding their keys to heaven close to their heart. This conveys to us the extent of the problem; where young boys had to be promised a safe afterlife for their sacrifice in the war.

Aside from the discussion on ruined childhoods, many of you had different insights about this book. One in particular that sticks out is the idea of “home”. The underlying message being, “Is home still sweet when you grew up like Marji did?” A couple of you had conflicting viewpoints on this idea but Devon brilliantly pointed out that we can never really understand this from our western point of view. Like Andrea stated, even for the international students living far away from home, we were never really in danger. We can’t understand why Marji thinks so highly of Iran, or why Malala thinks so highly of Pakistan (an idea from Devon’s blog post), because we’ve never had to experience life that way.

The last two blog posts I want to mention are McKaylee’s and once again, Joey’s. These two talk about the different elements of this particular graphic narrative. McKaylee’s highlights the use of comedy, “Satrapi uses humor to bring forth an edge to the history we know.” What a brilliant statement! Would Persepolis still have such a great affect if it wasn’t humorous, or if it wasn’t a graphic narrative? Does the fact that it’s a graphic narrative positively or negatively affect our understanding of the story? Satrapi’s use of humour definitely makes this story more interesting, however does it make light of such a serious issue or does it enhance it?
Joey, on the other hand, talks about the use of imagery and colour. Satrapi’s illustrations are exclusively monochromatic; black and white, with no room for colour. This colour scheme, I think, is used to dictate how serious the situation was. Literally, if it wasn’t black, it was white, so, metaphorically, if it wasn’t bad, was it good? The Iran-Iraq war, and the Iranian revolution had no space for grey.

Marjane Satrapi does a wonderful job in manipulating our emotions in Persepolis. We see Iran in a whole new light; one that the media will never portray.

Again, I hope you guys had a wonderful weekend, and enjoy the rest of your Sunday!

Thanks for reading,

Naima.