Volume 52 Issue 8

Journalist Pacinthe Mattar delivers public lecture on objective journalism in Canadian Media

Editor

Students gathered in Kaneff to hear the internationally renowned journalist’s insights into working in the media field.

On October 15, renowned Egyptian Muslim journalist, producer, writer, and University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM) alumna Pacinthe Mattar delivered a public lecture on representation and objectivity in Canadian media and the power of independent journalism. The lecture was co-sponsored by the Institute of Communication, Culture, Information and Technology (ICCIT)’s Anti-Racism and Diversity Committee, along with Professor Nicole Cohen’s class—CCT395 (Journalism and Democracy).

From 1 to 2 p.m., over 30 staff and students gathered in room KN 130 of the Kaneff Centre to listen to Mattar’s talk. The event also featured complimentary coffee and cookies.

As part of her lecture, Mattar went over the background of her personal essay, “Objectivity Is a Privilege Afforded to White Journalists,” which was published by The Walrus in 2022. In that essay, she discussed multiple instances where she was silenced and questioned for challenging the notion of objectivity while working in the Canadian press. The essay, first published in 2020, received a National Magazine Award and the Canadian Online Publishing Award in 2021.

Mattar invited participants to question the notion of objectivity and how it applies to media coverage of racialized communities, specifically Black, Indigenous, and especially Palestinian peoples.

Corporate media

Mattar previously worked at CBC for ten years, where she wrote numerous stories about immigration, race, marginalization, and pop culture. She worked on The Current, a CBC radio program that covered town halls on missing and murdered Indigenous women, racism, and other prominent issues.

Mattar experienced her first gap between the reality of journalism and the promise of journalism while covering the 2015 uprising against police brutality in Baltimore, US. Mattar pitched a story on Freddie Gray, a victim of a “rough ride” in a police car, which led to a severe spinal cord injury, a coma, and his passing one week after his arrest.

In the final stages of publishing her story, her superior commented that the story wouldn’t be aired due to their doubts about the reliability of the interviewees who spoke out against the police brutality. Mattar was left to defend her work, lectured on transparency and accuracy and had to prove herself as a journalist. Ultimately, her efforts fell short until a senior colleague who happened to be an older white male intervened. That persuasion from her colleague finally led to the story being published.

There is an ongoing difference in the treatment and trust towards marginalized communities in the news.

Mattar went on to talk about an instance when she tried to cover medical racism against Indigenous peoples.

Speaking at a town hall in Vancouver in 2018, Diane Lingren, a provincial chair for the Indigenous leadership at the British Columbia Nurses Union, described the differences she saw in how Indigenous versus non-Indigenous people are treated in hospitals. Lingren explained that the Royal Canadian Mounted Police (RCMP) tied Indigenous patients, cuffing their wrists to their ankles, and explained

to her that it was for their own protection and safety. Mattar put together an article to address the injustices that Lingren faced. Once again, a superior told Mattar that the article couldn’t be published because the RCMP had made statements that contradicted Lingren’s claims. Nevertheless, after more back-and-forth, the CBC eventually published the article.

Mattar went on to say that with racialized communities like Black and Indigenous people, there are often debates, disagreements and doubts on the reliability of a source that come from members of the communities, yet the stories are still aired.

In 2017, Mattar interviewed American-Kuwaiti Palestinian journalist Ahmed Shihab-Eldin about a protest and the treatment of journalists in Jerusalem, located in the West Bank of Palestine. Worshippers prayed outside instead of inside the al-Aqsa mosque as an act of defiance over a new installation of metal detectors at the entrance of the mosque. The tension between the Palestinians praying and the Israeli Defence Force led to the protest Shihab-Eldin was covering.

Once again, Mattar completed a story, went through all the stages of approval, meetings and interviewing, only to be shut down again by producers. This time, Mattar was given no explanation for the decision, and the story never aired.

How to question objectivity

Mattar went on to quote prominent figures in the world of journalism she looks up to, such as Tom Rosenstiel, who posted on X, “Objectivity is not neutrality or disinterestedness. Those notions invite unconscious bias--the very problem the objective method or process was meant to combat.”

She spoke about Nikole Hannah-Jones, who said, “We have to take a certain stance on things, especially if you’re talking about democracy.” Mattar echoed their arguments, asserting that objectivity doesn’t require adhering to a notion of balance, especially when reporting on unbalanced political systems.

The future for journalism

In an interview with The Medium, a student attendee who chose to remain anonymous said the lecture led them to “think over the implications of ownership, editing and thinking about how things get published. It was very informative.” The student was happy to see Mattar break the glass ceiling and create change. “A lot of people stay in those positions and are just okay with it. I was really inspired by her instinct to move into independent journalism.”

The lecture led them to question big media and the role of editing and producers: “Should we even be really focusing on that, or should we be focusing on independent journalists who are saying it how it is?”

Professor Cohen, who co-hosted the event with CCT395, told The Medium via email that the importance of the event is to help students understand journalism’s “important role in democracy while studying its limitations.” She added that Mattar’s lecture about her experience working in Canadian media and her career as a journalist “is so vital”.

After the event, Mattar expressed, “independent journalism is the future, and the student press has always had a moral courage that I think the rest of mainstream organizations lack.”

She recalled a vigil for Palestinian journalists that she co-hosted at Toronto Metropolitan University (TMU) in 2024. The Eyeopener, TMU’s student newspaper, was the only news outlet that covered the event. “It was really nice to have the support of the student press—we invited every single news organization in the Greater Toronto Area (GTA), nobody covered it but the student press,” Mattar shared. “This generation, I think, has a moral clarity and a courage that we need more of.”

Today, Mattar continues her independent journalism and activism for marginalized communities. She is working on publishing a book and currently has her essay “Covering Palestine Shouldn’t Cost Anyone Their Job. Or Their Life,” in a newly published book titled When Genocide Wasn’t News, co-authored by independent journalists and activists.

Students celebrate Diwali at the IEC’s first Dinner and Dialogues of the year

The IEC sought to facilitate learning about the Diwali festival through hands-on activities and open discussions.

Every year, hundreds of millions of Hindus, Sikhs, and Jains from around the world celebrate Diwali. While the traditions and significance of Diwali may vary across cultures and religious groups, the holiday is generally a time for large social gatherings and jollities.

In the lead-up to this year’s Diwali, which falls on October 20, the International Education Centre (IEC) hosted one of its recurring Dinner and Dialogues special events themed after the holiday. The IEC hosted the function in the Student Centre’s Square One Presentation Room on October 16.

Starting at 5 p.m., about 60 students gathered for a two-hour program of creative activities, open discussion, a Polaroid photo booth, and free food. At reception, attendees helped themselves to stickers featuring an anthropomorphic deer, beaver, and penguin, each holding a lit diya, a small clay oil lamp typically associated with Diwali.

Within the venue, attendees were seated at ta-

bles adorned with a black cloth, a gold-coloured table runner, and flameless candles. Following a brief introduction, IEC student-staff launched an open discussion period featuring prompts such as “How do you usually celebrate Diwali, and has that changed over time?” and “What do you think festivals like Diwali can teach us about unity and togetherness?” for each table.

The gathering quickly turned into a lively conversation as students introduced themselves to one another. At each table, groups used the prompts to break the ice and soon shifted to familiar topics, from memories of Kerala and Delhi to the stress of midterms.

Discussions continued into the second segment of the event, wherein attendees decorated diyas of their own. Over the course of the evening, the vacant clay lamps took on shades of lavender, olive, azure, and saffron as their new owners patterned them with acrylic paint.

With “Dialogues” sufficiently underway, the IEC fulfilled their promise of “Dinner” with rich servings of salad, rice, chana, butter chicken, dessert squares, and an assortment of soft drinks, all of which were thoroughly depleted over the remainder of the evening, save for the chana.

To wrap up the event, IEC staff announced the winners of a raffle by randomly picking names from the attendance list. The staff members then

arranged for digital U of T bookstore gift cards to be sent out to three lucky students who were drawn.

The Medium interviewed attendees after the event to get their thoughts on the evening’s proceedings.

For fourth-year economics major Rajbir, attending Dinner and Dialogues was a no-brainer. “I do celebrate Diwali, and it was a Diwali night dinner, so I came.” The function lived up to Rajbir’s general expectation of school events as opportunities to socialize and have fun, though he said the food was better than he anticipated.

Fourth-year biology specialist Sruthi Mulpur said she and her friends were thrilled to attend Dinner and Dialogues. “It felt like a fun chance to wear Indian ethnic clothes and enjoy something familiar yet different on campus,” she shared. “Since we’re all in our fourth year, we thought this might be one of our last chances to do something like this together.”

She also commended the hosts for putting together such a “memorable” and “well-organized” event. “The group discussions about Diwali brought back memories from my childhood in India and gave me a chance to reflect on what the festival means to me. It was also nice to see people from different backgrounds participating and learning together.”

Third-year political science major Samuel Kamalendran, who oversaw Dinner and Dialogues as a Programming Team Lead for the IEC, confirmed that each aspect of the Diwali-themed program had a specific intention.

“We wanted students to have a great time getting to know a bit more about Diwali, about the culture behind it, engage with that on a very physical level through the decoration activity, and finally have a great time with their friends, meeting new people through the Diwali-inspired food.” He said that his team had been planning the event since the beginning of the summer.

Kamalendran concluded, “I would like to invite readers to our next Dinner and Dialogues, which will celebrate Fall Harvest, and will take place on November 6, also in the Presentation Room.” He clarified that Fall Harvest will have a C$5 entry fee.

04 OPINION

Editor | Yasmine Benabderrahmane

The death of Halloween in neighbourhoods

Edwin Zhang Contributor

Let us revive, a holiday built to give back to our community and to reinstall joy to kids everywhere

As a young kid, I adored Halloween. What’s not to like? You get to dress up, grab candy, admire and absorb the spooky atmosphere of your transformed neighborhood. As I grew older and felt myself outgrowing the tradition, I realized that my neighbourhood was also less receptive to trick-or-treaters.

In the past, houses with lights on would serve as invitations, and now, I see fewer and fewer lit up porches as the years pass. My neighborhood was always smaller, and perhaps as a result of us, the kids and I, growing older that the tradition started to garner less attention. I thought of it as nothing more than a consequence of growing older, but trick-or-treating, in the traditional sense, has become less and less popular, and alternative avenues of candy collecting have gained traction, like trunk-or-treating—gatherings of vehicles that open their trunks and hand out snacks that way.

Why is it that trick-or-treating has been somewhat disconnected from the Halloween spirit? Is there any way we can rejuvenate these traditions?

Public polling has shown that more and more houses get fewer and fewer trick-or-treaters every year. A few reasons could be attributed to this. For one, the aftermath of COVID-19, which discouraged social gatherings for fear of getting sick. The effects of this can still be seen today through current neighborhood trends, especially among adult citizens, who would be the primary distributors on Halloween night.

It could also be that kids are simply less interested in outdoor activities. Staying at home has never been more comfortable and entertaining for kids with electronic devices, and where Halloween may have been a more special occurrence before, current stimuli might equal or exceed any perceived entertainment value from trickor-treating. As someone who very much likes to stay home myself, it makes sense that some kids wouldn’t want to go through the hassle of dressing up and running from house to house when there is plenty to do at home.

These problems are obviously not easy to solve, but it is undeniably possible that trickor-treating and the spirit of Halloween can be made more enticing for all age groups to participate in. Through that encouragement, we could find that trick-or-treating regains some of its lost popularity through community effort.

There are some considerations for alternative ways trick-or-treating has been celebrated in recent years, and how these alternatives have taken away from the participation in traditional door-todoor trick-or-treating. Trunkor-treating, for example, is a great way to celebrate Halloween. For younger kids and people with mobility concerns, it provides a similar experience without the difficulty of travel that can affect them.

While I think the trunk-alternative has a place alongside trick-or-treating, I do not think that it should replace tradition entirely. I feel it lacks the charm and sense of community that trick-or-treating provides. Kids, especially in smaller neighbourhoods, can build relationships and connections with local residents, and these can certainly blossom over time. Building rapports within communities is something that can be so fruitful, and something that has been somewhat lost after the COVID pandemic.

Yes, trick-or-treating comes with risks, especially in the later hours of the evening, but these risks can be reduced with simple supervision, and they shouldn’t dampen the holiday tradition as a whole.

Addressing the overall issue of trick-or-treating’s waning popularity should relate to parents and adults more than kids. Generally speaking, kids will go along with the tone and atmosphere set by their caregivers, and a nonchalant attitude from them trickles down. Personally speaking, my parents never set up elaborate decorations outside of our house or prepared candy for trick-

The capitalist coven

Farasha Shaikh Contributor

Maybe we are all a little witchy

It’s 2 a.m. You’re scrolling through Etsy, past the crochet frogs and vintage mugs, when you see it: a $35 “Banishing Negativity” spell jar. The reviews are glowing.

“It actually worked,” one buyer swears.

Another says, “My ex texted me within 24 hours.”

You pause. You don’t even believe in magic, but something inside you thinks: maybe, just one jar wouldn’t hurt.

or-treaters, and Halloween faded away as a household tradition as my younger brother and I grew older. Obviously I wouldn’t be able to speak for certain, but I feel that with a sense of Halloween spirit within the house, I would have been more excited for the holiday and perhaps less jaded as I grew older.

Halloween becomes a holiday that requires parents and adults to step up within their neighborhoods, to be able to grant the same experience they got to the new generation of trick-or-treaters.

Sure, holidays like Christmas and Valentine’s Day have the benefit of perpetuality, where past years build on and encourage gift exchanges every year, while Halloween doesn’t enjoy the same privilege. But, there is also the idea of positive peer pressure within neighborhood spaces that can be used, where Halloween decorations, even a week before, can encourage others to follow suit and might generally increase the amount of houses willing to hand out candy.

Thus, I would encourage anyone of any age that feels like they have outgrown the door-knocking tradition of Halloween to take part in the distribution part instead, and maintain the cycle of Halloween. Let us revive, a holiday built to give back to our community and to reinstall joy to kids everywhere.

Welcome to the world of Etsy witches, the internet’s latest blend of capitalism, chaos, and cosmic energy. Witchcraft used to involve cauldrons and secrecy, now it involves free shipping and a promo code.

The Cambridge Dictionary defines witchcraft as “the activity of performing magic to help or harm other people.” Once a symbol of danger and rebellion, witchcraft has been rebranded into an aesthetic—pastel tarot decks, moon phase jewelry, and “cleanse your aura” mists.

Modern witchcraft thrives online, especially on TikTok’s WitchTok, where candle rituals, spell tutorials, and astrology charts rack up billions of views. Etsy has become the marketplace version of that, a place where sellers market spiritual services the way others sell tote bags.

Historically, witches were burned for their power. Now, they monetize it. The modern witch is less about cursing kings and more about curing burnout.

But, Etsy witches are walking contradictions. They promote anti-capitalist healing and “manifestation over materialism,” while charging $45 for a vial of moon water. It’s easy

to mock, but the irony is kind of the point.

Today’s witchcraft isn’t rebellion against capitalism—it’s survivingly within it.

Buying spells online gives people a sense of control in a world that constantly reminds them they have none. Every order confirmation is a small prayer disguised as a receipt.

Even Etsy itself knows that this balance is strange. The platform technically bans “metaphysical services that promise results,” yet thousands of witches still list “entertainment-only” spells with winks in their descriptions. The line between belief and branding has never been blurrier.

For many young people, witchcraft fills a gap left by religion. Statistics Canada reports that over one-third of Canadians now identify as having no religious affiliation, and that number is even higher among Gen Z. Traditional faith feels outdated, but spirituality, flexible, aesthetic, and personal, is thriving.

Witchcraft fits perfectly into that secular landscape. It’s religion you can remix: a pinch of astrology, a dash of psychology, and a heavy pour of vibes. There’s no priest, no doctrine—just you, your candle, and your intentions.

Maybe this is what faith looks like now: less about God, more about algorithms and manifestation playlists. We’ve replaced sermons with moon rituals and found meaning in the chaos of the feed.

So, is the rise of Etsy witches a reflection of our desperation? Maybe—but not in a pathetic way. When the world feels unfixable, small rituals make it feel less so. Lighting a candle for abundance or buying a charm to repel negativity is a way of saying, I still believe things can change.

Spiritual consumerism isn’t new, people have always paid for meaning. The difference is that Gen Z is self-aware about it. We know a spell jar won’t solve climate change, but it might make midterms feel slightly less cursed.

Online, witchcraft isn’t just a belief system, it’s performance art. TikTok once exploded with “Trump Death Day” predictions and a viral rumour that witches had hexed the moon. More recently, conspiracy threads blamed an “Etsy coven” for the supposed “curse” of conservative commentator Charlie Kirk.

Whether people actually believe these things is beside the point. Witchcraft now functions as internet folklore, half meme, half myth. Everyone’s in on the joke, yet everyone’s just a little serious about it too. Because witches are powerful—and power is what everyone’s chasing.

The witch has always been a symbol of resistance, especially for women and queer communities. She’s independent, feared, and unapologetic, all traits society still tries to police. Being a witch, even an ironic one, means reclaiming that autonomy. It’s saying, “If the world won’t protect me, maybe my crystals will.”

Maybe we laugh at Etsy witches because they remind us of

Can women even dress for Halloween?

Mariana Domínguez Rodríguez Contributor

Illustrated by Sehajleen Wander

Remember when Halloween felt uncomplicated?

A quick pair of cat ears, drawn eyeliner from a friend, and you’re done. Alternatively, a full commitment was another option: theatrical amounts of fake blood, elaborate wigs, even fishnets. No matter what

happened,

a picture always surfaced. Instagram would light up, then you’d face the music the following day, feeling either satisfied or just mildly embarrassed. That was part of the fun.

But, today, a woman’s Halloween costume seems to invite unwanted opinions, no matter the costume. You choose a playful costume—say, a nurse, or a vampire— and some will claim you’re simply catering to the male gaze. People online might suggest you’re diminishing yourself, imposing unfair ideas about womanhood, or overdoing it. However, opt for something comically silly instead—like the Lorax or Shrek or a hot dog, something that is extremely hard to sexualize and is generally considered to be purely hilarious—and you’ll have to prepare yourself for accusations of striving to distance yourself from other women. Accused to, you guessed it, cater to the male gaze (again).

It seems then the harmless enjoyment of Halloween has quickly become a statement. There’s this unseen scorecard floating around, it seems; people quietly judging Halloween outfits worn by women. It feels like an unspoken competition to see who gets approval based on what they wear. Sexy cop? Too revealing. Pizza suit? Pick-me energy. Halloween on social platforms just amplifies the drama.

Each year, platforms like X turn into argument zones; people dissecting celebrity costumes, TikTok videos categorizing partygoers, and comment threads overflowing with self-procclaimed costume experts. The irony? A lot of the complaints and judgements come from fellow women. Spaces promising the freedom to be yourself and acceptance starting from within becomes critical if how you show up isn’t “quite right.” They champion boldness yet judge anything outside

ourselves—trying to find order, identity, and a little hope in a system that profits off our confusion. Sure, it’s easy to roll your eyes at the person buying a “manifest rent money” candle. But in a world where everything feels out of control, who can blame them for wanting to believe?

Maybe the Etsy witch isn’t really selling magic. Maybe she’s selling the comforting illusion that, for once, the universe might listen.

their idea of it. It started with criticizing women for their sexuality, now it’s berating them for trying not to be sexualized—however, both approaches boil down to policing what women do with their bodies and lives.

Halloween is that single night offering a chance to inhibit another persona. Become a champion, someone famous, a viral joke, a creature from nightmares, even an oddly alluring item. Consider the fact that a “sexy corn-on-the-cob” outfit exists. And while the choice of costume remains unclear to me, I respect it.

For many women, Halloween has always been a chance to experiment: try on different “selves,” crack jokes, or simply claim their desires of freedom, away from social expectations. These are moments where sheer silliness feels freeing, to deliberately choose an outfit that clashes with norms and routine. It’s a statement; women aren’t here to please anyone’s sense of style. But, it feels like there will always be a catch: being able to choose what to wear and still facing criticism for it.

Calling outfits “showy” or “fake” just continues the old habit of telling women what to do with their bodies; a practice originally challenged by feminist movements. The issue doesn’t lie within clothing choices, but rather a society preoccupied with controlling female expression.

Today, people argue over what counts as true female empowerment. Does showing skin feel liberating, or does it reinforce expectations? Conversely, is modest dressing a way to take charge, or succumb to societal pressures? Honestly, the queries are off base. What matters more is figuring out our compulsion to evaluate what women decide. October’s festivities shouldn’t demand deep thought. Instead, it is meant for fun, treats, and fake gore. Costumes aren’t always supposed to be statements, but they’ve come limited to just that.

Today, simply having good ideas or being original isn’t sufficient. Women are expected to embody feminist ideas flawlessly. A revealing outfit draws criticism for upholding outdated power structures, yet an unconventional one risks accusations of seeking male approval through differentiation. Essentially, there

appears to be no winning choices, even when viewed through a lens of playful self-awareness.

It’s not the costumes; it’s who calls the shots. Not a spooky season story, more like a power play. For ages, people have felt free to comment on women’s appearances, specifically on what they wear. From schools dictating clothes to offices setting rules, even at celebrations, somebody always has an opinion about what’s fitting (and it’s usually a man). It’s a familiar pattern; a teen gets dress-coded at school because her clothes are deemed disruptive, then faces similar judgments about her posts online when she shares a picture.

Essentially, both situations assume one thing: your appearance doesn’t belong to you. Ridiculously, a guy can storm into a party practically naked under a skin-tight outfit and receive claps, positive chants and even praise. Yet, if

a woman were to sport a twenty-five dollar costume from a pop-up store, she is subject to judgement.

Perhaps truly owning your choices this October 31st means letting go. Donning what sparks joy, even if it’s “a bit much.” Embrace the awkwardness. Feel the burn. Women can be many things at once. They might be alluring,witty, and even striking, while also being playfully detached. Sometimes you might feel like sparkling darkness, other times a huge yellow fruit. Neither option defines how completely you are a woman.

October 31st offers a chance to become someone, or something, you aren’t on the daily. If anyone criticizes your Halloween look—says it’s overdone or attention-seeking —consider this: they’re operating under the assumption that a woman’s self-expression needs approval. And that’s the real horror.

Lost in Translation: Superstitions

Michaela Dimitrov Contributor

Maryam Raheel Contributor

Rebecca Christopher Bawa Contributor

When the season of superstition haunts us all, everywhere

Since the eighth century, Halloween has been exposed to innumerous changes in its celebration. Yet, originating as the ancient Celtic practice of Samhain to ward off evil spirits and ghosts, Halloween still stands as the time to stand wary of our surroundings. Here are four cultural superstitions to stay cautious of this spooky season.

Avneet Kaur: Mirrors and Energy in India

If you have ever rearranged your room furniture for better “energy”, you are not alone. Across India and among the diaspora, there is a long-standing superstition that claims a mirror facing your bed can bring forth bad energy, restless nights, or even unwanted negative tension. Intriguing, isn’t it? Yet, one can’t help but wonder: where did this belief originate, and is there any truth behind it?

Amongst many Indian households, mirrors aren’t just for selfies or outfit checks—they are seen as powerful objects. Some traditional people still believe that mirrors reflect more than our image. They believe mirrors draw out our prana—our life force—even while we sleep. Others warn that mirrors can attract wandering spirits or double conflicts in a relationship, symbolically amplifying disruption.

The logic may sound mystical, but for those who have grown up around the superstition, it all feels real. However, science reflects a different picture: the real culprit is light. When moonlight or streetlights hit a mirror, it can directly reflect into your eyes and interrupt the melatonin production. This makes it more difficult to fall and remain asleep.

Additionally, this superstition is also contradicted by psychological factors like waking up and seeing your own image, which can be surprising or arouse feelings of self-consciousness, especially if you are half asleep. If you also tend to believe in such a superstition then that thought alone can cause severe anxiety, and can indeed be labelled as a self-fulfilling prophecy!

Although superstition and science appear to be diametrically opposed, they still hold common points of interest: sleep is intensely personal. For some, turning a mirror away provides peace of mind, for others, it is simply smart home designing.

In any case, a pair of blackout curtains or even a trusted sleep mask might simply be a better solution.

Maryam Raheel: Yoghurt and Sugar in South Asia

Before any exam, interview, or journey, my grandmother would hand me a spoonful of yogurt mixed with sugar. For good luck, she’d say. I never questioned her insistence, instead consuming the sweet, cooling combination and somehow feeling calmer than before.

In Pakistan and India, the ritual of eating yogurt and sugar, known as dahi-cheeni, before an important event is a way of securing good fortune. Some believe it can bring success. On the surface, it’s a simple superstition. However, there’s a deeper meaning behind it.

From a scientific perspective, yogurt is a superfood that provides various health benefits. Offering a soothing touch to the stomach, yogurt is rich in nutrients like calcium and protein and has probiotics that aid in digestion and strengthen immunity. Sugar, on the other hand, provides a quick boost of energy for our brains and bodies. The combination of yogurt and sugar, thus, creates a powerful mix that supports the body in times of stress or anxiety.

Beyond the science, the real comfort lies in the gesture. My grandmother feeding me a spoonful of dahi-cheeni as I rushed out the door wasn’t just about luck; it was an act of love. It was a way of saying: you’ll be okay, a belief that transcended words.

Whether or not this superstition actually brings good luck is unknown to me, but the tradition born from it is just as valuable. Sometimes, before dealing with uncertainty, a small spoonful of sweetness is all we need.

Michaela Dimitrov: Doorways and Bodies in Jamaica

In Jamaica, there are superstitions that most people believe to be fact. For example, I’ve heard of the doorway myth. It is said that if you sit in the doorway of your house, ghosts will step over you. Take the case that you live in a home that has been passed down through generations—one that your great-greatgrandparents once lived in. As the generations pass, they turn into ghosts; but, they still enter and leave the house. So, if you sit in the doorway, it blocks their entrance. This leaves them no choice but to step over you.

Another popular superstition claims that if your right hand itches and you scratch it, money will find its way to you the next day. You may wander the streets one day, in search of a job, seeking rent money for tomorrow—you think long and

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