The Significance of a Balaclava

 

Artwork by the author, Alison Margaret B. Moule

A meme that has been circulating recently illustrates a person lying on the ground, presumably unconscious, and a distressed-looking crouched figure crying out “HELP!!! Is any one of you a doctor?” One in a crowd of unalarmed onlookers replies “I can crochet a balaclava.” This occurs under the title, “Year 2030.” Many of us who have been confined to our homes throughout this 2 year-long (and still ongoing) pandemic have taken up hobbies like knitting and crochet, and this meme pokes fun at the growing winter trend of hand-made balaclavas. No, we are not doctors. We wake up feeling perilously stuck in the cycle of lockdown and gradual-reopening, unprecedented and uncharacteristic weather, minimum-wage jobs and the knowledge that even if we were doctors, we could never afford a house in this economy. So what’s the point? We are shifting away from careers that make money and towards creativity.

In pursuit of coziness

 I made my first balaclava in early January of 2021, after seeing one posted on Instagram by knitwear designer and photographer, Harry Were, for sale for over $200. Unable to afford the beautiful and aptly priced hand-knit head-warmer, I set my mind to knitting my own. Although I do not know how to follow patterns, I am proficient in the binary code of knitting and purling. By trial and error, I cast on a blue merino-wool balaclava, making up the pattern as I went along.

Since that first bala (as I affectionately call them), I have knit and sold enough to cover about three months of rent. Not wanting to charge a price that I myself could not afford, while still trying to value my time that goes into hand-knitting, I sell by sliding-scale. Most people who buy my balaclavas are also students or work low-paying jobs, but are graciously willing to give up $90-130 to get their heads in a soft, hand-knit wool bala. I am curious about the popularity of balaclavas that has allowed me to make a small income by doing something that I love.

Some attribute the trend to the pandemic, as masking has been mandatory for nearly two years, and balaclavas seem to mimic the effect of a semi-obscured face. However, balaclavas were first reappearing in fashion in the pre-pandemic winter of 2018-2019. Still, I imagine there is some connection between masking to prevent the spread of COVID-19 and everyone wearing a balaclava this winter. Perhaps we appreciate the warmth that masks provide to the lower half of our faces in sub-zero temperatures, but require a more fashionable, comfortable, outdoor version of this warmth we are now accustomed to. I surmise that the trend has to do, most of all, with coziness. Winter fashion has not always been as practical. In most recent winters, we have seen more emphasis on keeping warm, with puffer jackets and wide-leg pants (with lots of room for long johns underneath). Balaclavas reject the cold ears of excessively rolled-up beanies. 


Balaclavas in and against power 

Balaclavas first appeared under this name in the 1880s. During the 1854 Crimean War battle —dubbed the Battle of Balaclava, after the nearby town of Balaclava, Crimea— British soldiers were sent hand-knit head and face coverings, then called Uhlan caps, to keep warm in the frigid Russian October (Richard Rutt, A History of Hand Knitting, 1987, pg. 135-138). These were no doubt knitted by women and girls, who often aided in war efforts by providing hand-knits to soldiers. 

Balaclavas have this military history, and are still very much associated with violence. When I mention to a person of an older generation that I knit balaclavas, the common response is “You mean like bank robbers?” Balaclavas are commonly worn to conceal the identity of individuals committing crimes, including police and military forces. Of course, there is a difference between military-style black balaclavas, that conceal everything but the wearer’s eyes, and brightly coloured, hand-knit wool balas that encircle the wearer’s face in a way that reminds me of a well-swaddled baby. That said, it is hard to separate the garment from connotations of violence. I post selfies in my knitted balaclavas on social media with the hashtag #balaclava, and I receive messages like “Hey beautiful,” from military-fetishizing men in tight, black balaclavas. I block them with a feeling of uneasiness about my most beloved winter accessory.

Balaclavas show up also in contexts of political resistance. Balaclavas were worn by Indigenous activists in Chiapas, Mexico, during the Zapatista uprising, beginning in 1994. Face masks are not just a way for the Zapatistas to conceal their identities from an oppressive government: a Zapatista balaclava is a symbol of non-hierarchical collectivity, and a statement about the invisibility of Indigenous peoples in a colonial empire.

Band and performance art group, Pussy Riot, put a spin on the balaclava's Russian roots. Wearing bright-coloured, ski-mask style balaclavas, they retain anonymity while making a strong visual statement, in their fight for feminism and LGBTQIA+ rights in Russia and worldwide.

In Wes Anderson’s Fantastic Mr. Fox (2009), the animals wear balaclavas they call “bandit hats” when confronting antagonistic farmers who are destroying their homes. The animated comedy tells a story about land rights and habitat conservation, while using balaclavas as a symbol of resistance. 

Who can cover their heads and get away with it?

Many of the folks who bought my balaclavas live in Montreal, where the cold winters welcome the warmth of the accessory, and the Quebec Bill 21 bans workers “in positions of authority” from wearing religious symbols including hijabs while at work. While a balaclava is generally knit and worn outside as a winter hat, and a hijab is generally a woven-scarf wrapped around the head and worn daily by Muslim women who choose to wear one. The visual similarities between the trendy headwear and the traditional head covering is striking to many Muslim women. Head and face coverings are politicized, and wearing a garment that conceals the head is not a choice that everyone can make safely. A balaclava worn by a white woman may be cute and unique, while a Muslim woman wearing a hijab —which covers the same features as a balaclava— may lose her job. Nuanced connections between race, religion, and our favourite winter accessory raise questions about who has the privilege to participate in this trend.

What is hand-made and what is made by hands?

The balaclava trend highlights a renewed appreciation for hand-made. In a time when many people’s main hobby is watching Netflix, we are reclaiming hobbies. We are learning how to value the work that goes into creating, when the time we put in at our day jobs is usually valued at less than $15.00/hour. Hand-knitting is anti-capitalist. Supporting friends and local makers is anti-capitalist. We understand the detrimental effects that fast-fashion has on the environment and on human rights, and we refuse to support it. While fast-fashion prices have taught us to expect cheapness (in price and quality), by hand-making, we are learning to appreciate the work that goes into making anything that we wear. In my opinion, even a shirt made in a factory in China is “hand-made,” as I don’t yet know of a sewing machine that can operate without hands controlling it. 

In a global situation that feels quite apocalyptic, I fear the culmination of this winter trend that will send balaclavas to thrift stores and landfills. My hope is that we will hang on to our balas and our making-skills for a future where resistance and self-sufficiency may be more valuable than financial capital.

Alison Margaret B. Moule (they/she/elle) is a maker and lover of textiles. They graduated from Concordia University in 2020, with a BFA in Art History and Studio Art and a minor in Classical Archaeology. Their work has been published by the Concordia Undergraduate Journal of Art History (CUJAH), Yiara Magazine, Hoplon (Journal of the Concordia Classics Student Association) and the Fine Arts Reading Room (FARR). They are a current graduate student in Cultural Heritage Conservation at Fleming College in Peterborough, Ontario.


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Doulaing During a Time of Uncertainty: Lena Ford’s Journey Through Birth Spaces as a Montreal-Based Doula

 

Artwork by Liv Meek AKA Regularfantasy

Editor’s note: The following article explores themes that readers may find distressing, including medical racism and death. Reader discretion is advised.

In our latest feature, Concordia University student Celia Caldwell interviews Montreal-based doula Lena Ford about her career in the birthing field. In their three-part conversation, Caldwell and Ford discuss the important (and often unrecognized) work led by doulas in birthing spaces, and how systemic inequality and the COVID-19 pandemic Impact professionals and clients alike.

I. DOULAING YOURSELF

Celia Caldwell: What made you want to become a doula?

Lena Ford: Around age fourteen or fifteen, I realized that I was fascinated by pregnancy. I thought it was the most intriguing yet bizarre thing and I knew that I wanted to be involved. In high school, I would watch birth videos from the glow of my screen. My classmates hovered over my shoulder and scoffed, Why are you watching birth videos? 

As time progressed, I learned about doulaing. My parents had a doula when I was born, and now she is my mentor. A lot of people think that being a doula is a gateway to becoming a midwife. While that can be the case, I am more so interested in the emotional side of birth. 

CC: Can you talk a little bit about what doula training is like?

LF: The most reputable household-name in North American doula training is DONA. When I read about DONA, I didn’t know if it was a good fit for me. It mostly entailed readings, and it was a weekend-long in-person training. So much of this work consists of educating yourself on how to naturally bond with, react to, and care for people. The idea of only having a weekend of training made me uncomfortable. 

I wanted to look for something else. I was told through my friend’s mom —who is a midwife— that a well-known doula in Toronto named Sasha had a training program called Awakening the Village. My eyes lit up because Sasha was my parents’ doula. Sasha and I had never talked before; she hadn’t seen me since the day I was born. One morning, I called her and said, “I don’t know if you remember me, but you were at my birth in Toronto.” 

It was lovely coming together. We were both emotional and I felt at home with the idea of her as my mentor. The training is a weekly meeting on Zoom. I’m just so grateful that I had the opportunity to do this because, obviously, we learned about practical skills and how to best support people. But the emphasis is on doulaing yourself and working on yourself before you can do this for other people. 

That [approach] has been so incredibly helpful, and now I am a part of the Alumni Program at Awakening the Village. I can jump in and out of any call that the new cohort is attending. It’s an amazing community.

CC: I oftentimes feel like doulas are not recognized for their labour. I think the work can go unseen or not receive recognition from the general public, and even people within the birthing field like midwives and doctors. It can be perceived as an almost invisible labour, especially with home-births because they take place behind closed doors. In general, there is a patriarchal pressure to keep the process of birth and anything post-birth private. How do you grapple with not receiving recognition from others? 


LF: This is a field that is not recognized very much at all. Midwifery is completely discredited. To this day, it is still not regulated in both Prince Edward Island and the Yukon. Doulaing is even more undervalued than midwifery. I experience so many different types of births. Whereas, if you’re a midwife, more often you’re experiencing a specific kind of birth. If you’re an obstetrician, then it’s a specific kind of birth. 

A doula can show up to any birth space, so I think there’s a hard-line when we’re not medically trained and we’re not supposed to give any sort of medical advice. I think finding that line is difficult, and it’s so incredibly hard to make yourself seem worthy, especially in a hospital space. 

Half of the work is just trying to prove that we have a place in the birth space. Especially with the whole rise of the medical-industrial complex in Western society. All of the emphasis is on the doctor, the baby and what’s going to make the process of birth the most efficient. None of the emphasis is placed on the birth-giver and their well-being. There is an enormous clash between medical professionals and the individuals that are offering the birth-giver emotional support. 


II. A HOME-BIRTH IN THE AGE OF COVID-19 

CC: You mentioned to me that you attended a birth in April of 2020 during the first wave of the pandemic, when the entire world didn’t really know what to make of COVID-19 yet. Can you tell me about this experience?

LF: My client was planning on giving birth at the hospital. I met her and her husband right before the pandemic, just two months before their due date. This was daunting for me because I was going to have to navigate the hospital system for the first time. 

I feel more drawn to home-births, but I was excited nonetheless. When the pandemic hit, hospitals were, and are pretty much still, only allowing one support person in at a birth. Oftentimes it is the partner, but in certain situations, the primary person would be the doula if the birth giver does not have a partner. With only one support person in the hospital, doulas were being shut out. Even worse; some people were forced to give birth alone, which was the most heartbreaking thing for the birth community to hear. 

This generated lots of discussion on the doula-related Facebook groups that I am involved in. There was a conflict between wanting to respect the hospital’s COVID-19 restrictions and ensuring that our voices were being heard. 

As I scrolled through paragraphs of doulas’ stories, I thought to myself, We do deserve a place in the hospital, we are essential. One can look at it like, It’s all fun and games. We do our grounding meditations and we bring our essential oils and we let our clients relax on us. One can easily stereotype a doula. However, if you see the stats and do the research about postpartum, you will see that we change lives. 

It was challenging because I didn’t want to scare my client, but I needed to prepare them in case I wasn’t allowed to attend the birth.

I said, “I still want to be on call. I still want to know when she’s going into labour, so I will be available by phone if you need me.” At 11PM, the day after my client’s due date, I received a call from her husband. 

He calmly said, “Hi, she’s having contractions. Also, we just decided to have a home-birth. Can you come?” 

CC: What did the home-birth setting feel like and look like?

LF: The bed took up the entire room. We were all shuffling past each other. The husband felt uneasy about seeing his wife in an extraordinary amount of pain. It was tense, but we all had to keep that at bay for the sake of creating a calm environment for my client. 

The entire experience was rather eerie but, also, so incredibly beautiful at the same time. Their son was fast asleep in the next room. My client didn’t want to wake him up, but I told her, “You have to release whatever you need to release.” The reality of birthing in a city, in a high-rise with neighbors nearby, heightened the tension.


III. SOCIOECONOMIC INEQUALITY & RACISM IN BIRTH SPACES 

CC: What is the most rewarding part of being a doula? Or can you think of a rewarding moment that you’ve had?

LF: Being present for someone else’s birthing experience is as much of a gift to me as it is for [my clients]. 

At the end of the day, when the baby arrives, a tranquilizing wave fills the room. Everyone releases a sigh of relief. All of the intensity that once consumed the room floats away when the baby begins to cry. At that moment, you are overwhelmed by human life. My mind is submerged in disbelief by the birth-giver’s accomplishment.

Though I want to make a career out of this and support myself, I recognize that the birth community needs professionals to do labour pro-bono as well. At the same time, I also know that birthing experiences for white people are so incredibly different than for Black, Indigenous and racialized people. So, it is important to make space for doulas of colour to connect with their communities, as some clients of course prefer a person of colour to support them during their birth.

The statistics are appalling when you see how many people of colour die in childbirth due to systemic racism. One thing that excites me about this work is that I have the opportunity to step into birth spaces and do what I can for my clients. But, I also know that I don’t have all of the answers, and it’s not necessarily me that needs to be the one to support them.

Learning to be a doula has honestly changed the way I live my life. I am learning to reach outside of myself and give my all to someone else. Doulaing has given me the gift of holding space for other people. I am having a hard time finding the balance in that too.

I think what’s interesting about this job is that I will never not be learning. It is incredibly daunting to reflect on. I see that in my mentor and in other doulas that I have spoken to. I’m going to come across something new in every single birth that I attend and every family that I work for.

Celia Caldwell (she/her) is a Tiohtiá:ke/Montreal-based writer. She was born and raised in Nacotchtank/ Washington, D.C. She currently studies Honours English & Creative Writing at Concordia University. She was the Development intern at PEN America. In the fall of 2019, she was the Assistant Outreach Coordinator at Vallum Contemporary Poetry Magazine. She is interested in the intersections of poetry, journalism, mental health awareness, and learning disability politics.

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Liv Meek is a graphic designer, DJ and music producer based out of Montreal.

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This interview has been condensed and edited for clarity.


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Letter From the Editors: Also Cool Patreon Launch

 

Become a patron of Also Cool and support us on Patreon!

We made a Patreon because we want to get to know you better. We’re testing new ways to make our platform more sustainable and interactive. We’re thinking online workshops, snail mail, fun digital goodies, and skill-sharing groups. Most importantly, we want a more concrete and sustainable way to compensate our contributors. 

We are a group of four volunteers: Malaika, Zoë, Maya and Rebecca. We all have day jobs, big dreams, and just really love working on this project in our spare time. Also Cool operates on a not-for-profit model, where all the money coming in goes back out to supporting the creatives who contribute their work to it, in addition to covering operational costs like having a website domain, and a podcast platform, and Canada Post’s astronomical shipping costs for merch. 

We believe in creating for each other and investing in each other. Reinvesting into the community has been our objective since day one, but it’s not a complete circle without your support! We’ve been hesitant to launch a Patreon for a while now, especially during this last year when all of us have encountered financial insecurity at different levels. We’ve put a bunch of our own savings into making this work so far, but we’re at a point where we need to ask for your help to keep the dream alive. 

That being said, we aren’t interested in sourcing our budget from methods that deviate from the ethics at the core of Also Cool. Can you imagine targeted ads on our website? We can’t! We decided Patreon would be the best way for us to go, considering that we will still be able to maintain our focus of sharing resources and highlighting the importance of collaboration and solidarity in creative circles. 

We’re offering all sorts of knowledge-sharing and entertainment goodies at every subscription level, in order to accommodate how much our subscribers are able to spend, from $3 to $25. These Patreon exclusives include things like access to special digital content, fun activities, early registration to our workshop series and events, and special edition merchandise. 

We can’t wait to hang out with you on the interweb. And most of all, we can’t wait to keep building the Also Cool community together with you. 

Check out the breakdown of our subscription exclusives by visiting our Patreon profile!

Thank you for supporting Also Cool!

- Malaika, Zoë, Maya and Rebecca

Keep up with us online!

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Montreal's Dhakira Collective Presents Screening Fundraiser "Dreams of Beirut"

 

Montreal’s Dhakira Collective presents Dreams of Beirut – a screening fundraiser in support of two organizations (MESEWAT and Egna Legna) working to provide crucial aid and services to migrant workers in Lebanon under the Kafala system – from April 2nd to April 4th 2021. As Dhakira Collective shares, Farah Salka describes the Kafala system in the 5th issue of the Journal Safar as: “a violent, abusive and exploitative ‘sponsorship’ system used to monitor and control migrant workers, primarily in the construction, cleaning and domestic sectors in the region. This system is not written down nor formalized in any law but rather a compilation of practices enacted out over the years by the self-entitled General Security Office of Lebanon who enjoy governing with impunity.”

The suffering inflicted by Lebanon’s economic crisis has been compounded by the COVID-19 pandemic, as well as the violent explosions that occurred in Beirut on August 4th, 2020. This unprecedented string of events has worsened the living conditions of domestic migrant workers in the region and both organizations working to support this vulnerable population are in need of urgent help.

The screening includes two mid-length films, Maid in Lebanon (2005) and Maid in Lebanon II: Voices From Home (2008), both by Lebanese filmmaker Carol Monsour, as well as the short film Tshweesh (2017) by Lebanese filmmaker Feyrouz Serhal. Along with the screenings, both filmmakers will present an introduction to and explanation behind their respective work. Mansour’s films document the lives of Sri Lankan women working as domestic workers for Lebanese families, and examines the complexities of their relationships with the households that employ them. Feyrouz’s film follows a young woman through the streets of Beirut as the excitement surrounding the World Cup goes awry after an impeding Israeli attack is announced.

The films will be available to stream worldwide via the collective’s Vimeo account with English subtitles on a donate what you can basis via Paypal. The password to access the films will be shared with those who donated on April 1st. Individuals who, for financial or other reasons, are unable to make a donation but still want to watch the films are encouraged to reach out to he collective via Instagram.

100% of the proceeds will be split equally between the two organizations: MESEWAT and Egna Legna

This event is organized by Dhakira Collective and funded by QPIRG Concordia

Dreams of Beirut event page

Dhakira Collective is a research-led curatorial collective aiming to highlight and celebrate cinema, art and music outside the western canon. The collective was founded in July 2020 by Bouchra Assou and is co-run by Gaïa Ziad Guenoun, two multidisciplinary artists based in Tiohtià:ke/ Montreal.


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Bearing Witness: Domestic Violence and Working Class Women on TV

 

Recreation of a still from Can You Hear Me?, visual by Olivia Meek

Editor’s note: The following essay explores several themes that readers may find distressing, including domestic violence, sexual assault and police violence. Reader discretion is advised. Supplementary resources are provided at the bottom of the essay.

It isn’t revolutionary to see domestic violence on television. Quite the opposite — violence against women is too often an easy plot device to further a narrative, brushing over the real impacts of violence in a relationship. To see a series deal head-on not only with the dynamics of abuse, but their ripple effects in a community, is truly rare. 

I had no idea what I was in for when I stumbled onto French-Canadian dramatic comedy Can You Hear Me? (M’entends tu?). Based on the description and the image, I thought, Oh, here’s another series about young people surviving in a big city. That’s a genre I like.

But Can You Hear Me? is hardly a new Girls or Insecure. The story of Ada (Florence Longpré), Fabiola (Mélissa Bédard), and Carolanne (Eve Landry) is an honest – and sometimes hard to watch – portrayal of the everyday negotiations involved in surviving when you’re young and poor. 

When we meet the girls, Fabiola is working at a restaurant, caring for her mother and young niece. Ada is attending mandatory anger management sessions and occasionally trading sex for cash and cigarettes. Caro is living with a cousin and dealing with boyfriend problems. 

As the first season progresses, we learn more about what has happened between Caro and her boyfriend, Kevan. There’s a rape at a party. Kevan blames Caro for her assault, and is physically violent towards her. The season culminates in Ada attempting to take revenge on Caro’s behalf. 

On the big screen, portrayals of domestic violence are usually limited to thrillers about women’s revenge. Sleeping with the Enemy, Enough – these films typically end with the abused woman murdering her abuser. This trope not only perpetuates violent narratives, but it ignores the cyclical nature of violence. Normally in media, the act of violence a woman uses to get back at an abuser is celebrated, or at least plotted with her friends. “Can You Hear Me?” doesn’t let Ada off the hook so easily. 

Season two picks up with Ada in jail and Caro back with Kevan. Once released, we follow Ada as she tries to win back her friend’s trust, and do the challenging work of supporting a friend in a violent relationship. That labour is complicated by the fact that each of the girls must also do the work of surviving. 

Following her release, Ada is struggling to find her footing. Fab is now employed as a personal healthcare aide and is caring for her niece full time, navigating a complicated relationship with her sister, who is trying to stay sober. Caro finds a job in a bookstore, allowing her time away from her abusive boyfriend. 

Other series have covered the topic of domestic violence. “Big Little Lies” is notable for its veracity and nuance in exploring the subject. But, as much in the media does, it focuses on wealthy white women’s experiences. The trope of domestic violence secretly occurring behind the doors of beautiful suburban homes is more about undoing our notions of the perfect family, or the American dream, than about the realities of violence. Rarely do we see a compassionate and complex portrayal of poor women experiencing violence. The vulnerability of poor and racialized women in the face of violence is either too invisible or too horrible to face. 

While it doesn’t shy from the reality of violence and poverty, “Can You Hear Me?” finds pockets of joy in daily life. The excruciating scenes of trauma and pain are balanced with moments of levity. Outside their favourite dive bar, the girls smoke cigarettes and sing along to a song from a passing car. They laugh at the absurdity of life. Laughter is one way the women survive. 

Most representations of working class experiences of domestic violence are delivered to our screens by the reality-documentary series COPS. The police ride-along mainly covers crime in poor neighbourhoods, focusing primarily on Black and Latinx men. “Domestic dispute” segments often involve police arriving at an apartment or trailer park, ridiculing both parties for causing a disturbance, and driving away. The aberration is not the violence, but the noise complaint. 

Can You Hear Me? isn’t anti-carceral or pro-cop – rather, it acknowledges how dangerous it is for the abused person to call the police, and the way police escalate violence. When a neighbour calls the cops, Caro and Kevan both deny any violence. Later on when Caro calls the cops herself, Kevan is arrested, but the violence doesn’t stop — it gets worse. It’s a story about the failing of police as much as it is about domestic violence. 

Without veering into didacticism, the series shows us the abuser’s playbook: isolating the victim from friends; groveling and using gifts to get their partner back; moments where things seem calm; lashing out violently when she finally feels ready to leave. 

The moment someone tries to leave an abusive relationship is often the most dangerous. After Kevan is arrested, Caro eats dinner with her friends and her mother. A moment of joy. The history of violence is just below the surface of their conversation, bubbling up when Caro feels she can speak about her experience, but the women are laughing. For a minute, it seems like Caro is finally free. 

But Kevan, as always, returns with flowers and a fist. It’s the kind of emotional blow one comes to expect from the series, which never lets its heroines (or its audience) off easy. As Ada’s counsellor tells her, “If Carolanne chooses to stay in a toxic relationship, you can’t leave it for her.” 

Even when they disappoint each other, friendships are survival. Caro, Fab, and Ada are all trying and failing at breaking the cycles of violence in their lives. Chosen families break the abusive patterns passed down through bloodlines. 

Caro’s mother, herself a victim of domestic violence at the hands of Caro’s father, seeks help at a women's shelter. This is perhaps the most novel of the portrayals of violence and its impacts on the series. The thriller’s focus on vengeance, the procedural’s focus on police intervention, and the drama’s focus on upper class women mean that domestic violence shelters are almost never shown on TV. 

For a woman with money or connections, it can be much easier to escape to a hotel or friend’s house. By demystifying the shelter, the writers offer a new narrative and option for women, one that involves empowerment without perpetuating more violence. 

It would be easy to make a preachy show about domestic violence, its causes, and the options available to those experiencing abuse. Can You Hear Me? chooses instead to tell compelling and true stories about the lives of working class women. In telling the truth, it exposes the narratives we are afraid to tell, opening up a world of storytelling we don’t get to hear.


Editor’s note: Below are several supplementary resources that pertain to the subject matter of the essay. We encourage all of our readers to explore these options, and to seek whichever form of help that they may need. Please exercise caution in using these resources on shared computers and devices.

  • ShelterSafe is a website that provides information to connect women and children across Canada with the nearest shelter for safety and support.

  • myPlan Canada is a free app to help those impacted by abuse with their safety and well-being. It customizes resources for a wide range of relationship abuse concerns in order to develop a safe and sensitive plan.

  • SOS violence conjugale is a Québec-based non-profit organization whose mission is to help ensure the safety of victims of intimate partner violence. SOS offers resources in over 25 languages.

    • For those outside of Québec or Canada, SOS offers a comprehensive directory of international resources. This directory can be found here.

  • Crisis Services Canada is a collaboration of non-profit distress and crisis service centres from across Canada. Their goal is to assist Canadians struggling with mental health and suicide.

  • The Canadian Resource Centre for Victims of Crime is a charity that ensures the equitable treatment of victims of crime across Canada. They have a directory of resources for those who have experienced sexual violence, domestic violence, and other crimes.


Caitlin Hart (she/her) is a cultural critic and writer from Edmonton, Alberta. She is the co-host of the forthcoming podcast The Simpsons: Not a Simpsons Podcast.

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Olivia Meek is a graphic designer, DJ and music producer based out of Montreal.

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NGL Flounce Shares "Womb" from Poetry Series "When Mom Is Gone"

 
Illustration by Reilly Webster

Illustration by Reilly Webster

”Womb” is the first poem from the collection When Mom Is Gone by Montreal-based multimedia artist NGL Flounce. In the author’s words, the series focuses on themes of “craving, losing, and then finding motherhood.” Read the piece “Womb,” and keep an eye out for her following works to be released as a short series in the coming weeks.

Illustration by Reilly Webster

- - -

Womb

Eyes close, Head tilts

Backwards, Weight lifts,

Water calmly

Lifts my body.

Sensations numbed,

Protection all

Around my shape,

My mind is blank.

Safety cared for,

Almost Love with

No condition:

Wishful thinking...

The bath is cold,

I fear the truth,

I stand and look:

Illusion gone.

Lost and scared of

Giant setting,

Gasps for breath when

Coming panic.

I wish she would

Be here with me

And hold, embrace,

Relieve my cries,

Eat me full and

Pull me back in

Haste, in fear of

Death, Her only,

Her child, alone,

And only her

Is strong enough,

Can love enough.

Save me mother!

Take me home to

Peace and warmth,

Let me fill your

Womb.

NGL Flounce is a multimedia artist from France and Madagascar based in Montreal, Canada. Her main interests are poetry, spoken word, music production, and DJing under the name NGL Flounce. Her narrative and lyrical poems form nuanced sketches of self-reflection, loss, sexuality, culture, cycles of life and earth, and the critique of Eco-Fascism.

Instagram | Soundcloud | Mixcloud

Illustration by Reilly Webster


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Body Journals: Dana El Masri on Senses and Sense of Self

 

Dana El Masri is an Arab-Canadian perfumer & interdisciplinary artist. She is the owner and creator of Jazmin Saraï, a perfume brand exploring scent, sound, and culture. I was introduced to her perfumes through a friend a couple of years ago, and have been amazed by both the scent and concept of her creations. She uses a synesthetic approach to creating her perfumes and scent-related projects, tying together music and perfume. I was so excited to interview her for this Body Journal given her unique relationship to her senses - especially scent and hearing - and the ways her senses, and subsequently her body, are embedded within her work. Delve into our conversation below to learn more about her work and her embodied understanding of scent, self-expression, and identity. 



Simone: I would love to start with a little about how you define yourself, who you are. How would you introduce yourself?



D: I’m in an ever state of trying to define myself, or unlearning and removing how other people define me. I’m a creative. I’m an artist. I’m an emotional, sensitive being. By trade, I’m a perfumer. I like to connect different mediums and senses within my work. Essentially I’m a blender. It’s really finding the connections between things, which is also how perfumery works in a lot of ways. The more I explore perfumery, I realize how everything is connected and how perfumery covers all of these different industries and modalities. 



S: You said connecting the senses. I think that’s really relevant to this conversation about the body. How does that come up for you in your interdisciplinary work, in perfumery.



D: Scent is intimidating for a lot of people to describe or to even experience, because it’s quite invasive. You feel it right away, it’s primal. Historically, all the philosophers thought it was a tertiary sense, an animal sense. Nothing to do with intellectualism, nothing to do with emotion, which, to me, is the complete opposite of what it is. The only way you can process scent is through the memory and emotion banks in your brain. 

I see a lot of similarities between scent and sound. They’re both time-based, they’re both emotion-based, they’re both invisible. We have a lot of musical language in perfumery. Top, middle, base notes. A perfumer’s workspace is an organ. And I have a musical background, so I already had that in my head - and that’s really where the scent and sound developed together. I went into the synesthetic aspect of it and I was like, “What if I break down a song and then make an olfactory reinterpretation of that song?”



Simone: Tell me more about your musical background! Your value and understanding of interdisciplinarity is so clear through your experiences & interests.



D: I always wanted to be a singer. I actually moved to Canada to pursue a singing career and to study. I was also a ballerina when I was a kid. And I wanted to dance forever. That’s really what I wanted to do [when I grew up]. But I was also surrounded by many friends my age whose parents were very religious and that trickled down through them. And [my friend] basically said that my dancing was haram. It felt like she was telling me about [what to do with] my body - and how I shouldn’t put my body out there. I stopped dancing because I couldn’t get it out of my head. In the beginning, it was just about the love of dancing, and expressing myself, and being in the moment. There was no shame ever related to it. And now that there was this idea of being observed by someone and being judged - it changed my whole relationship with it - because it was no longer free.



S: I know sometimes when we internalize that shame at a young age it stays with us for a long time. Was there a point when you realized that the shame had dissipated? Or did you actively work on dissipating it to feel free? Are you still working through it?



D: I never got back to fully expressing myself as a dancer. I’m definitely still working through it. My friend is doing a project about shame - I just spoke to her about this. There were so many experiences I could have shared [with her], but this was the thing that popped up. I thought, “Wow, this must be something that I’m still trying to resolve within myself.” And [I want to] just hold the little Dana inside and be like, “Hey, it was okay. Fuck her. What does she know? You are so good.” And that’s a lesson for adult life. Why do you let someone else’s opinions affect you? 



S: I think that your reaction as a young girl was normal. Especially people that we trust - they tell us something about ourselves and we listen. It sounds like you pulled an important lesson from that experience.



D: I think it’s something to do with freedom. When you have space to move and dance and jump - there’s something about that movement that literally frees you. And it’s funny because now I actually have a lot of structural problems. I have scoliosis - I was diagnosed as a teenager - and I have four rib humps that stick out of my chest. I feel constricted a lot. I always associated dance with freedom of movement - and now I feel almost caged in my own body. 

I believe in meta-medicine - what is happening in your brain will also manifest in your body. When I saw someone about [the scoliosis] she was like, “Scoliosis is the idea of being afraid to be seen, and of hiding yourself,” and I thought, “Woah, could that be related?” 



S: I definitely believe that there’s a connection there. I’m glad you’re healing from it. You shared that you grew up in Dubai and I know that your parents are Egyptian and Lebanese. I’ve noticed in your scents that you draw on a lot of Middle Eastern scents and music.



D: I try because there’s a lot of appropriation in my industry and a lot of misrepresentation. There are very few Arab perfumers on an artisan level, or who have control over the narrative that they’re sharing. 

Arabic music is set up differently than Western music, so already it’s a totally different form of creation, which I thought was really interesting to explore. But I also grew up with that kind of music. Senses are, almost in their essence, nostalgic. So, it’s even harder to forget where you come from because sense is what connects you [to your identity]. Food and smells connect you to home. And that’s something I never want to forget. 

I also just really wanted to have the narrative in my hands. In North America, there’s also so much propaganda. A lot of the images that you are being fed [of the Middle East] are often of violence, and anger, and war, and sadness, and blood. I didn’t want that. I just wanted to create new narratives of beautiful stories that do also exist. No Orientalism, no over-fantasy or exoticism, just purity and genuineness.



S: I sense that a lot when I smell your perfumes. Having all these roots and clear connections to the places you call home, how do you experience the connection between body and community? Is there a way you forge a connection between the body and culture?



D: I don’t know if there’s a word for it in English - I guess the closest word for it would be ‘yearning’. Yearning is a physical experience for me.

S: Where do you feel it?



D: In my heart. In my chest, in my shoulders. Everywhere where I’m actually crouched [from scoliosis]. It’s really weird. When I miss home, or when I’m trying to connect to that part of me, there is a physical yearning for being in that place. All the things that remind me of home are still very sensory. The plants, the colours, the feeling, the scent of the air, the gasoline - I almost feel a responsibility to translate it. 



S: That’s really a beautiful sentiment - to physically feel love and connection to home with your whole body. What lessons or gifts has your body given you?



D: It’s given me a lot of lessons in the way that I’ve learned to appreciate myself. I had a really complicated relationship with my nose. I found it big. Growing up in the Middle East, where a lot of girls get their noses done, I just always felt ugly. I was always really afraid to show myself. And it’s the same theme of being seen, of showing my entire true self. It’s also now my biggest asset. My biggest gift. It’s about reconciling the dark and the light within me. And that’s always been the battle, which I reconcile through my body and through scent.





This insightful interview was everything I had hoped it to be and more. Dana is truly connected to her sensory and embodied experience. She has an exciting project on the way called The EP, which is a diffuser scent collaboration with four local musicians: Meryem Saci, Kallitechnis, Lunice, and Hanorah. It will be released in October, and you can find more information on the release of this project at her social links below. My thanks to Dana for sharing her story and her gifts with me. 



You can follow Dana’s perfume releases and art on her brand’s Instagram

You can check out her offerings on her website

And, you can also check out her multisensory work here

Listen to an sensorially inspiring playlist by Jazmin Saraï here

 

Meet Sage, the Montreal Brand Supporting East Asian Community

 
Via Sage’s "In the Heat of the Sūn" collection

Via Sage’s "In the Heat of the Sūn" collection

Forget fast fashion; invest in your community. Support Sage, the Montreal/Toronto clothing brand focused on East Asian representation and community.

We interviewed the Sage and got to know the talented, hardworking friends behind the brand. But that's not all -- Sage happens to be our first brand sponsorship and has gifted us something extra special for YOU, our community. Stick around till the end of the article to find out how you can get some Sage swag for free.

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Malaika for Also Cool: How did Sage get started? What are your backgrounds, and how did you all decide to come together?

Sage: In Fall 2017, Yutong, Rulin and I were in the back of a bubble tea shop, our regular hangout spot on Sainte-Catherine street. I took a sip of my Yuzu drink and asked Rulin and Yutong, if they wanted to start a clothing brand. We loved browsing through SSENSE and Haven seasonal sales, so creating something related to fashion was always of interest. At first, they feared that we would release something undifferentiated, but after debating about the brand's purpose we decided to focus on the thing we knew best, which was expressing our passion for East Asian culture. 

While we brainstormed for ideas, it became apparent that we needed a sense of artistic direction. The only person perfect for the role that we could think of was Victoria. She grew up downtown and was exposed to high-end Japanese brands while we still thought Urban Outfitters was the pinnacle of streetwear. One day after class, while she was waiting for the bus, I approached her without a concise proposition and asked if she wanted to join our newly formed brand. In line with our brand's direction, Sage was complete with a tastemaker!

Also Cool: Tell us a bit about the "In the Heat of the Sun" collection and the artist collaborations that came with it.

Sage: Our newest collection "In the Heat of the Sūn" is an interpretation of the classic Chinese story "Journey to the West". For my first five years in Canada, I only had Chinese cable TV at home. I had no idea who Spider-Man or Superman were and instead, my idea of a hero came from Sun Wukong, a hooligan monkey. We wanted to give exposure to this icon so we used visual elements from shows we used to watch such as "Havoc in Heaven" and the "Journey to the West 1986 TV" series as an inspiration for "In the Heat of the Sūn". 

With every drop, we try to involve various local artists in order to grow our community! For our past collections, we used to host physical popups in galleries and bubble tea stores in order to showcase our new merch, blast Nujabes beats and feature works from local artists. However, COVID hit Montreal and Sage took a major L regarding our ability to host our usual events so we decided to make a virtual shift. Over the summer, we linked up with Hae-In from Underdog and approached her with the idea of co-hosting an interactive-virtual popup. We brought in new members to the team, mostly our close friends, to create a new Sage online experience. We believe all our efforts paid off since we got so many heartwarming feedbacks which is something we're very grateful and proud of.

Via Sage’s "In the Heat of the Sūn" collection

Via Sage’s "In the Heat of the Sūn" collection

AC: What kind of visual and musical inspirations influence Sage as a brand?

Sage: We are mostly inspired by things we grew up with. Whether it be from popular media like 90's Hong Kong drama to mundane memories like Victoria's mom watering her money tree, we try to incorporate whatever influenced or has influenced us into our products. We then draw or re-design those inspirations from our own perspective!

AC: Can you describe one of your favourite childhood memories?

Yutong: My dad driving me on his motorcycle with 3 wheels to night stalls to eat yangrouchuan

Vic: Going shopping 

Mike: Looking at freshwater turtles at the pet store 

Rulin: When I was walking down the street in Beijing, and I saw a guy I knew and I was like, hey! It's that guy!

Via Sage’s "In the Heat of the Sūn" collection

Via Sage’s "In the Heat of the Sūn" collection

AC: What's next for Sage? Do you have anything exciting planned for this year?

Sage: We are consistently working on bringing new projects, capsules and collections! We are always open to collaborate so feel free to shoot us an email or DM anytime. As for the upcoming months, we are working on a new capsule that will be VERY cozy.

AC: How can we best support Sage and the artists that you collaborate with?

Sage: Minimum of 200$ spending on every drop :). Just coming to our events and pop-ups is good enough! Our main goal is to be able to connect and chill with as many of you guys as possible. 

Also, check out the lit artists featured on our virtual popup for this drop here

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Now that you love Sage as much as we do, why not rep the brand? Sage has been gracious enough to gift us some exclusive merch for an Also Cool x Sage GIVEAWAY!

The giveaway INCLUDES one reversible Sage bucket hat (black and beige), a Sage dark green Family tee (exclusive to this giveaway), a green limited-edition Also Cool tote, and as many Also Cool stickers as we can fit into the mailer. Giveaway details below.

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SUPPORT SAGE

WEBSITE I INSTAGRAM

Giveaway details:

  • ENTER by following the rules on our Instagram post “SAGE X ALSO COOL GIVEAWAY”

  • Share & tag us in your story for an EXTRA ENTRY

  • The Sage t-shirt is a unisex size “medium”

  • The giveaway OPENS Saturday September 25th 2020 at 11am and CLOSES exactly a week after

  • The giveaway is open internationally

Please DM or email Also Cool with any questions about the giveaway, or future brand partnerships

Instagram I alsocoolmagazine@gmail.com