Justice for Colton Boushie > Why the Gerald Stanley acquittal carries such weight Jillian McMullen Staff Writer believe the recent acquittal of Gerald Stanley, who was accused of second-degree murder in the 2016 shooting death of Colten Boushie, a 22-year-old Indigenous man from Saskatchewan, is bullshit. About a year and a half ago, I took an English literature course on contemporary Canadian literature. The course was framed through a question decided by the students, one that would inform how we read each novel. The question we chose was, “What novel was most enlightening about the Canadian experience for students?” After thirteen weeks and six novels, the class voted what book was revealed to be the “winner:” Indian Horse by Richard Wagamese, a story that follows the protagonist's childhood spent ina residential school, and then as he works through the trauma he experienced there. Asa proud Indigenous woman, I was furious. How is it that that history was in any way “enlightening” for students? Hadn't we all been taught what happened to the Indigenous communities in this country? Weren't they paying attention to the discussions those communities were constantly trying to have? This is the problem with the Indigenous experience in this country— no one is really paying attention. The government constantly tries to sell this reconciliatory goal they have as some poetic rejoining of the Canadian population, where Indigenous and non-Indigenous communities come together to learn from the past and from each other—all precipitated by their public apology for wrongdoing. They don't speak, however, about what is being reconciled, or by whom. I think that this is because the reconciliation isn't being done by the government; it is being done by the Indigenous communities themselves. Canadian reconciliation doesn’t ask two previously- opposed groups to reconcile with one another, it demands that Indigenous communities reconcile themselves with their past and their continued subjugation within Canadian society. That is what makes this verdict upsetting—it perfectly illustrates the status of Indigenous people in this country. Indigenous men are overrepresented in the judicial system, with higher incarceration rates than any other group. According to a Macleans report, in Saskatchewan— Boushie’s home province—you are 33 per cent more likely to be incarcerated if you are indigenous than if you are white. On the federal level, Indigenous citizens make up 22.8 per cent of inmates, yet only make up 4.3 per cent of the Canadian population. Indigenous people are also more likely to be the victims of violence. Data collected in 2004 by the Department of Justice shows that 40 per cent of Indigenous people had been the victim of acrime, compared to 28 per cent for non- Indigenous Canadians. Despite all this, the juror selection on this case is alleged to have deliberately excluded Indigenous citizens. How can we trust a system that does not fairly represent our population, especially the population directly implicated in this case? How can we trust a system that readily jails Indigenous citizens, but will not protect them? Reconciliation will never be accomplished when the systemic oppression in our institutions is never addressed—not while Indigenous lives are continually threatened and treated as disposable within Canadian society. It’s time to cut the bullshit and change the narrative. A sincere and sustainable paradigm shift needs to occur for the Indigenous people of this country to be safe, and to succeed. Social media 1s eroding due process > Justice goes both ways Duncan Fingarson Senior Columnist O the past couple of years, we've seen a lot of people coming forward with their experiences of sexual assault. This is important and encouragingreat; sexual assault is one of, if not the most underreported crimes. We, as a society should want people to feel safe speaking about their experiences. We should want a justice system that supports victims, and holds criminals accountable. What I believe we should not want is lists of alleged abusers posted online like some people on social media have been doing; accusations being held up as hard proof of guilt before the case has gone anywhere near a trial. We shouldn't want this because, while it is goodimportant to believe victims, treating accusations as proof of guilt is not justice. Accusations are not proof of guilt, they are evidence of guilt, and this is an important distinction to make. I think the other part of this is the murkiness surrounding the definitions of assault and harassment. Legally, these things are clearly defined. In common parlance, on the other hand, people have varying definitions. Person A could post on Twitter that Person B harassed them. Perhaps Person B wolf-whistled or made some inappropriate comment. That’s not exactly admirable, but it’s probably not worthy of being jumped on by thousands of angry Twitter users who now hold the belief that Person B is a sexual predator. Context is important, and what people mean when they say something is vital to the understanding of what they're saying. Sometimes it’s clear, and sometimes it’s not. It’s a lot harder to be clear when all you've got to go on is 140 characters, or a list on Facebook. I'm not saying people should stop listening to victims, or that victims should stop making accusations; I think it’s great that discussion is happening around this sort of thing. It’s not an easy thing to talk about, and it’s made all that much harder when it’s happened to you. Statements should never be discounted immediately. One statement is evidence, a dozen statements is a lot of evidence. The more evidence there is, the harder it is for shitty people who do shitty things to get away with it. The dissemination of information is so easy with social media that one person can reach thousands. Couple that with how emotionally-charged sexual abuse, assault, and harassment is asa topic, and it’s easy to see how people can sometimes get carried away. Our system, however, works under the presumption of innocence. Innocent until proven guilty in a court of law. The standard of proof in the court of public opinion is a lot lower. Victims deserve justice, but so too do the accused. Let them have their day in court to see where the evidence falls. After you have the facts, you can have an informed opinion. Not before. With no surprises left to offer, what is a 10-year reunion supposed to be? > High school reunions in the age of social media Jacey Gibb Distribution Manager I came for me last month, like the grim reaper had set an alarm for 10 years later and was coming to collect: ] received a Facebook invite to my high school reunion. Yes, the time has finally come for Bellerose’s graduating class of ’08 to convene for a night of waxing nostalgic, reconnecting with old friends, and maybe a few sambuca shots—y’know, for nostalgia. Aside from the invite’s initial surprise, I’m dispassionate about my reunion. So, like anyone in 2018, I’m blaming social media for my problems. To me, high school reunions are one ginormous, speed dating-styled catch-up session, but instead of ready-to-mingle singles, it’s with people you haven't seen or heard from in a decade. An opportunity to find out which high school sweethearts made it down the aisle, what “Most likely to...” accolades transferred into reality, and who kept wearing fedoras beyond their formative teenage years. Except those big reveals and twists meant for the reunion are spoiled by my social media feed. I know X got married right after high school, and managed to squeeze out kids in as many years. A and B broke up while they were in university, though I wasn't expecting A and C to hook up so quickly afterward. K still thinks Anchorman jokes are the funniest thing ever—yeah, I saw his weekly posts until I discovered that “Unfollow” button. Even the reunion’s guest list read more like a checklist of changed names and profile pictures avec tiny humans. The invitation should've started with a “Spoiler Alert,” to preserve what tiny amount of mystery remained. Nowadays, staying in touch with your high school pals is as simple as a few taps of a mouse, and kablam, you've overcome any geographical obstacle. Hypothetically, I could talk to my best friend from high school all day, every day, but we both have lives that exist outside of each other. If I’m not attending the reunion for the juicy plot twists that other people’s lives took, then what am I attending for? From the research I’ve done: Nothing extraordinary, but nothing terrible. According to the website Reunion Announcements, attendance for a 10-year reunion is “typically in the range of 20 to 30 per cent,” with anything over 30 per cent considered to be “highly successful.” Only a quarter of the folks I graduated with will be showing up to the reunion. l interviewed several older friends to ask how their 10-year reunions went, and the anecdotal evidence always fell into one of three categories: They went to their reunion and had a lot of fun; they went, and it was okay; or they regretted not going. All these outcomes, while varied, are incredibly easy to live with. What are 10-year high school reunions, in the age where everyone's lives can be found online, and there are no surprises waiting for you? It’s just a thing; A thing with people you went to high school with, and people youre still friends with, some you don’t talk to anymore, but you wish you did. There will be people at your reunion who were complete jerks to you, and some thinking the same about you. Some people will be hotter, some will look more travelled, some will have kids, and some won't. A reunion is just a thing, and whether youre the person organizing it, or the person who immediately hits “Ignore” on their invite, I hope you're content with your decision. Unless your decision includes a few of those sambuca shots.