Feel the ‘need’ to date? TMU students reflect on relationship obsessions

February 13, 2023 CanCulture Magazine

Peer pressure and societal standards are making some students infatuated with love

By: Aliya Karimjee

A gift box with a rose and chocolate hearts. — ( CanCulture/Aliya Karimjee)

As we make our landing in the season of love, single people often feel pressured to enter a relationship and conform to society’s expectations of partnership.

With the popularization of heteronormative nuclear-family relationship standards in media, there’s the misconception that you need a significant other to make you feel “complete and happy.”

Some TMU students and staff feel Valentine's Day is an expensive "trap."

Zorianna Zurba, a faculty member in TMU’s professional communications department with expertise in the philosophy of love, recognizes the pressure around finding love keeps people from building a community.

“Traditionally, we think of Valentine’s Day as romantic love and we don’t acknowledge the other forms of love that can exist,” said Zurba.

Because of this, she adds that some people often rely on one person to meet their emotional needs rather than focus on self-love or friendships.

Amulyaa Dwivedi, a first-year journalism student, explains that her friends peer pressure her to get a boyfriend, holding her back from her journey with self-love. The pressure surrounds her through acquaintances, family members and friends, she said.

As an international student, Dwivedi notes that the salient dating politic that asks us to prioritize romantic ventures above all else is more prominent in Canada—leaving her with a culture shock.

Despite these societal pressures, she tries to remember Miley Cyrus’s new song Flowers and the practice of self-love.

Black squares with lyrics from Miley Cyrus’ song and a confident woman with black sunglasses. — Miley Cyrus’ new song wall art advertising single women empowerment near this Valentine’s season. (CanCulture/Aliya Karimjee)

Dwivedi adds that Flowers “is like a self-love song and a good [addition] to Galentine’s Day.”

Galentine’s Day is typically referred to as a “girls’ night” or a day to spend with friends feeling empowered by celebrating self-love, friendship and the enduring love we derive from being in community with one another.

“I feel like there’s a stigma that being with someone [romantically] is better than being by yourself,” said Agnese Verrone, a third-year politics and governance student.

She said she prefers being with someone she likes enough romantically or her friends, rather than going on a date for the sake of companionship.

Anna-Giselle Funes-Eng, a first-year journalism student, is celebrating Galentine’s Day this year with an ABBA sing-along screening at the Ted Rogers Cinema.

She believes it’s important to celebrate her friends and herself on February 14th rather than have a negative outlook on this day.

“The standard of a relationship is so binary and exclusive. Anyone who doesn’t conform is expected to be sad, wallow… And that’s bullshit,” said Funes-Eng.

For those considered “lucky enough” to be dating, they reveal an equal amount of pressure to arrange a “picture-perfect” Valentine’s Day.

There are a lot of grand gestures seen on social media, “so it puts pressure on my boyfriend or me to do something big,” said first-year nursing student Kirat Sandahar.

Whether you are celebrating Galentine’s Day, Valentine’s Day or practicing self-love, it’s essential to recognize who our true soulmates are and the role community and self-love play in our lives.

The beauty of being able to reach for one another

January 10, 2023 CanCulture Magazine

A photojournalistic composition about community and love

By: Rowan Flood

“I love to see you smile,” said Maya Kagan to Menachem Bluestein as they sat together during a Sunday of activities run by Dani, the Toronto-based program for disabled adults.

The room where everyone gathers on Sunday has an immediate sense of family. People check in on one another and encourage each other, “Eat your lunch.”

Arms are frequently reached out as people pass by; asking for a hand to be held or a hug to be given. These signs of physical communication speak louder than words, putting the care and affection people feel for one another into action.

Marty Leaf, a member attending the Sunday program, explained he has lifelong friends here and it’s clear interacting with them brings him joy as he reaches in to give Deborah Levin, another attendee, a tight squeeze.

The number of touches, hugs, high fives and hand squeezes demonstrate the need for community.

Jordan Goldman, the program director for Dani, said members report a greater sense of belonging from being a part of the program and they’re families have noticed more activation and motivation.

Motivation is a key word and feeling throughout connecting with others. People are motivated to come together and they're activated by each other as well. Conversations and interactions between seniors and disabled people light up faces, bring out expressions and create community.

At Caroline Place Retirement Residence in Hamilton, residents gravitate toward one another. They sit to drink their coffee at a table with others and chat and joke with employees who are handing them pills in little paper cups.

Maria Ewinger and Ralph Gibson sat together saying little but clearly comfortable with the other, as Ewinger confirmed his name and they exchanged frequent smiles.

“Choose one where I look good,” Ewinger instructed as she posed for the camera.

During an activity held by Sunshine Centres for Seniors, a Toronto organization, many came to learn how to make digital Christmas cards. Seniors gathered at the Parliament Street Branch of the Toronto Public Library to learn something new.

Despite Barbara Center, an attendee, saying, “I find anything with computers very frustrating,” she challenged herself to work on the project. She and another attendee smiled together as they talked and sat near each other.

While the activity was meant for making cards, it was also an opportunity to socialize and gather as attendees ate snacks and drinks provided while they chatted.

The pandemic has not gone away. However, the need to be in community with one another safely and joyfully hasn’t either.

Whether it's through touch, talk or simply being in another's presence virtually, seniors and people living with disabilities should and can have it.

A person leaning over to hug another that is sitting on a table — Talya Sokol and Jenny Upans on Nov. 27, 2022.

Deborah Levin and Marty Leaf on Nov. 27, 2022.

Jenny Upans, Rebecca Farb, Melanie Najman, and Terri Quint on Nov. 27, 2022.

Talya Sokol, Menachem Bluestein and Maya Kagan on Nov. 27, 2022.

Menachem Bluestien & Maya Kagan on Nov. 27, 2022.

A group of people standing and hugging — Christine Ho, Aliza Bernstein and Talya Sokol on Nov. 27, 2022.

A person holding a seated individual's hand — Marty Leaf, Roy Barell, and Aliza Bernstein on Nov. 27, 2022.

An individual smiling to something off camera as they hold a paintbrush — Rebecca Farb and Roy Barell on Nov. 27, 2022.

An individual wearing a black mask high fiving someone sitting down — Christine Ho, Aliza Bernstein and Marty Leaf on Nov. 27, 2022.

Two people sitting down and smiling at the camera — Odette C. and Barbara Center on Nov. 24, 2022.

Marlane Lee and Trini Fillon on Nov. 24, 2022.

Two people siting in brown chairs staring at the camera. — Maria Ewinger and Ralph Gibson at Caroline Place Retirement Residence in Hamilton on Dec. 13, 2022.

Tea Base: Chinatown’s commercial living room

March 6, 2020 CanCulture Magazine

A framed picture of Tea Base’s team and community members at their event at The Gladstone Hotel in early January, sits next to a pot and two teapots on Tea Base's counter in Chinatown, Toronto. (CanCulture/Adele Lukusa)

By Adele Lukusa

The moment I stepped into Tea Base, Hannia Cheng, one of three masterminds and “co-parents” of the space, yelled “Shoes off!”

It’s the first time I’ve visited where it’s been so quiet. Their popular Mahjong Mondays have lulled to an end, which leaves only a few members left in the space. Like always, I look around for new additions to the space.

“Community not condos!” and “Chinatown is not for sale!”, written in both English and Chinese on cardboard signs sit on top of a TV right next to a new chest filled to the brim with zines, comics, books and more donated for their new Pan-Asian library.

Unlike most community art spaces, Tea Base on Spadina Avenue in Toronto majors in maximalism, consistently building alongside their community of young artists and professionals. At first, their location was just a few tables and chairs passed on from the store that closed before them. With more members comes more makeshift interior designing, honing in on their particular brand of cozy by adding couches in addition to extra chairs and patterned rugs, without sacrificing personality.

From the head of a Chinese lion costume that sits on top of some boxes, to the cardboard cutouts of artist Ness Lee’s nude woman on the floor, leaning on their main counter. Tea Base dots their space with mementos of their community with framed pictures and trinkets galore. It’s an ode to the intergenerational Pan-Asian artists that make up their community.

“People don't just come here to be a participant, people come here to actually contribute to the space,” said Cheng. “That's why I really do say that we're a commercial living room. People just let us babysit their stuff.”

On a dish sits a few handmade zines about Tea Base next to a handful of pins with cartoons made by community member Chris Carriere in Chinatown, Toronto. (CanCulture/Adele Lukusa)

People are willing to not only donate their art, but they are also willing to follow Tea Base wherever they go. Whether it’s for events hosted at The Gladstone Hotel, the AGO, or at their home base on the basement floor of Chinatown Centre — folks show up and show out.

Sowing seeds in Chinatown

Two summers ago, the founders and organizers of Tea Base came together at Chinatown Centre and decided to start a garden.

This act sowed the seeds of what we call Tea Base today. They committed to this garden, taking shifts to water and nurture their plants. They began a slow but crucial relationship between Tea Base and the people of Chinatown. That grew alongside a metaphorical garden, of intergenerational Asian, racialized folks — many of who identify within the LGBTQ2S+ community.

There’s a wonderful charm to Tea Base, and it seems to be inherited by those who have created it, Cheng being one of the key elements. They’re quite the character on their own, humble, charismatic and larger than life. Whether it’s through singing along to songs by friends Eyeda Sophia and Maxhole or classics by Lauryn Hill, or shouting into their newly gifted megaphone. It’s almost contagious.

The Teabase Community

“It's always evolving,” said Chris Carriere, a community member who found Tea Base through a school placement.

“We're always trying to be a space that can change, that can transform, you know?” Carriere explained. “We're not stuck in our ways.”

“There's a lot of potential for real long-lasting community building,” Florence Yee, project coordinator and “co-parent” of Tea Base.

In January, Tea Base celebrated its first year in Chinatown by raising 90% of the necessary funds to keep their doors open and follow through with new programs, like language classes exclusively for those within the Asian diaspora who’ve lost their mother tongue.

From the living room floor, to the activist-filled streets

Artist and community member, Arezu Salamzadeh, reminds me that Tea Base is more than a culture and arts space — it’s also ground for serious activist work.

In the past year, Tea Base has collaborated with Friends of Chinatown Toronto (FOCT) and participated in the Coast to Coast Chinatowns Against Displacement: Week of Action, using their platform in order to fight against the gentrification of Chinatown in Toronto and across North America.

Over a TV lies a cardboard sign with the words “Chinatown is not for sale” written in English and Chinese at Tea Base located in Chinatown, Toronto. (CanCulture/Adele Lukusa)

“I think we all feel like what we do is meaningful,” she said. “But when it comes to people that really kind of hold the political and financial power in the city, I don't think that the things that we're looking at are necessarily on their radar.”

In spite of everything, Cheng is ready for whatever surprises the future brings. Impermanence is just part of organizing and placemaking, especially when spaces made by and for queer people of colour are far and few between.

“I don’t need Tea Base to be open 20 years from now,” they said. “For me, it’s about making sure people know that they can also do it."

“This is the politicized art space that I wished for when I was younger, especially as an Asian kid who never wanted to be Asian — but in a less capitalistic way than our parents would have taught us,” said Cheng.