Category: The Conversation – Canada

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Georgia Teare, Assistant Professor, Management and Leadership in Kinesiology, Western University

By age 14, girls drop out of sport at twice the rate of boys in Canada.

Sport can boost young people’s physical health, mental well-being and social skills, and fewer girls participating means more of them are missing out on these benefits.

But with women’s sports surging worldwide, closing Canada’s gender gap in participation is closer than ever before.

The solution, however, isn’t just more equipment or facilities — it’s showing them who they can become. Canadian Women and Sport’s recent Rally Report reveals that girls and women participate at disproportionately lower rates than boys and men, and that a lack of role models is a key driver of this gap.

Going beyond visibility to participation

With recent investments in elite women’s sport, girls now have unprecedented access to female role models.

Improved Women’s National Basketball Association (WNBA) airtime, Professional Women’s Hockey League (PWHL) expansion after only two seasons and record viewership of the 2025 Women’s Rugby World Cup, including the gold-medal match between Canada and England, reveal the momentum is undeniable.

Christine Sinclair’s success on the pitch inspired girls and women to play soccer, particularity after Team Canada’s Olympic gold medal win in 2021. Recently, Canadian swimmer Summer McIntosh’s success has sparked a surge in popularity of swimming in Canada.

The recently released Future of Sport Commission report confirmed the growth of women’s professional sport as an important driver of sport participation for girls — inspiring them to get involved and stay committed to sport. From the fan perspective, 88 per cent of sports fans think that professional women athletes are impactful role models for young women.

Researchers call this the “demonstration effect” — watching elite athletes perform inspires people to participate themselves. Being inspired by elite sports involves three things: a sense that something special is happening, an automatic emotional response (not a conscious choice) and motivation to take action. Typically the demonstration effect occurs through watching elite sport performances, elite athlete success, living near where a sport competition is hosted or a combination of these factors.

While the demonstration effect sounds promising, there’s a catch. Research also shows that newly inspired athletes often turn to local community sport clubs. But these clubs frequently don’t have the capacity or resources to handle the surge. This means that increasing women’s and girls’ participation in sport is more complicated than showing them that “girls play sport too.”

Sport needs stronger grassroots support

Quality, intentionally designed sport experiences are necessary to keep girls participating.

Improving community club infrastructure and capacity, for example, is a critical step toward providing impactful opportunities. More participants means that community sport clubs need more programming resources such as facility space, qualified coaches and equipment.

And with more participants, community sport clubs need to offer more sessions and maintain adequate instructor-to-participant ratios to ensure top instruction and feedback. But accessing this additional space is a key constraint to community sport club growth.

Clean, safe and accessible facilities must also be maintained — in some cases, even created. For example, there are not enough swimming pools in Canada to accommodate the increased demand.

As girls need athlete role models, they also need to see themselves reflected in coaching and officiating staff. With participant numbers increasing, demands on coaches can lead to burnout. In addition, women and girls participating in coaching and officiating are also disproportionately low compared to boys and men in these roles.

To help girls stay in sport, more efforts from Canadian national, provincial and territorial sport organizations are needed to train and retain women coaches and officials. But these investments are not just needed from government — the corporate world has an opportunity to support girls in sport as well.

Building equitable lasting change

The cost of youth sport is rising. For example, the average cost of playing hockey in Canada is $4,478 per child, with costs increasing with more competitive programming. In addition, youth participants are required to buy their own equipment to participate.

To keep sport accessible, community sport organizations should consider offering basic equipment. With the cost of registration fees, appropriate clothing and transportation, participation becomes financially inaccessible for many families. Community sport clubs can intentionally design low-cost programs and tap into government financial supports to keep girls playing.

When corporate Canada joins the team

Corporate Canada is starting to capitalize on the popularity of women’s elite sport, offering sponsorship or Corporate Social Responsibility (CSR) programs to financially support women’s and girls’ sport. There is an opportunity for community clubs to take advantage of this trend to help financially support participants.

Every girl brings different needs and expectations to sport. For example, girls with disabilities face unique structural and program barriers, newcomers to Canada may benefit from culturally specific programming, and club policies could be revisited to create safer spaces for LGBTQ+ youth and racialized girls, along with being more inclusive of all body types.

Community sport clubs that have the infrastructure and capacity to accommodate new participants must also ensure their programs are designed and implemented to provide quality experiences. These programs should reflect the diverse realities their participants face based on their background, identity and circumstances.

This will ensure that everyone can participate in ways that are inclusive and meaningful for them.

Georgia Teare receives funding from Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

Laura Misener receives funding from Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada

– ref. The ‘demonstration effect’ can inspire girls to play — but only if communities are ready – https://theconversation.com/the-demonstration-effect-can-inspire-girls-to-play-but-only-if-communities-are-ready-267270

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Emily Huddart, Professor of Sociology, University of British Columbia

If you spend time on social media or follow political commentary, you may have heard warnings that Canada is on track to becoming as politically polarized as the United States.

But how divided are we, really?

Our research suggests a more nuanced and positive picture. While Canadians are not immune to partisan animosity, our divisions are much less intense than in the U.S. Canadians express moderate levels of both affective polarization and the deeper hostility known as political sectarianism.

Measuring partisan animosity

Affective polarization refers to the gap in feelings people have toward those they agree with and those on the opposite side. It’s not about policy differences, but about feelings of warmth or hostility.

In the U.S., affective polarization, particularly dislike toward those with opposing views, has risen sharply over the past decade. This kind of division undermines trust, co-operation and democratic norms.

Researchers have expanded the concept to include political sectarianism — “the tendency to adopt a moralized identification with one political group and against another.” When political identities create moral opponents, compromise across parties feels like betrayal and democracy is threatened.

Partisan animosity in Canada

To explore affective polarization and political sectarianism in Canada, we worked with the Canadian Hub for Applied and Social Research (CHASR) at the University of Saskatchewan to survey a nationally representative sample of 2,503 Canadians in the summer of 2024. Representative surveys are uncommon in Canada, and this survey is the first to measure political sectarianism

We asked respondents to self-identify their political ideology on a scale from zero (extremely left-wing) to 10 (extremely right-wing); moderates selected five. We also asked how warmly people felt toward left-wing and right-wing Canadians. Then we asked how much they agreed with statements capturing the three dimensions of political sectarianism:

1. Aversion — Feeling negatively toward the other side

2. Othering — Seeing the other side as incomprehensible

3. Moralization — Believing the other side is immoral

The results paint a mixed picture.

Feelings about the ‘out-group’

Canadians display moderate affective polarization: both left-wing and right-wing Canadians feel greater warmth for their “in-group” than for the “out-group.” These evaluations are measured using feeling thermometer ratings, which ask respondents how warm or cold they feel toward each group on a 0–100 scale. While the difference in warmth between in-group and out-group is meaningful, the magnitude of the divide is far lower than in the U.S.

Left-wing Canadians express stronger dislike toward the right than right-wing Canadians do toward the left. This same asymmetry exists in other countries and may be explained by different perceptions of social and moral threat.

There are low to moderate levels of political sectarianism in Canada. Left-wing Canadians express moderate “aversion,” but few Canadians view the other side as immoral. Both the right and the left have moderate levels of othering. In short, political differences in Canada are real, but they have not solidified into hatred and dehumanization.

Who is most likely to be polarized?

We found that people on the left are more polarized than people on the right, but otherwise, we didn’t find major differences between most groups.

Supporters of the NDP, the Conservative Party of Canada and the People’s Party are the most polarized. About one-fifth of Canadians are unaffiliated, which could explain why the two right-wing parties are more polarized than the Liberal Party, yet the left is overall more polarized than the right.

Older Canadians are more polarized than younger Canadians, and residents of Atlantic Canada are less polarized than residents of Alberta. Otherwise, we found no evidence that polarization differs by gender, race/ethnicity, level of education, sexual identity or whether someone lives in a rural or urban area.

Why it matters

Democracy depends on citizens’ ability to tolerate and respect one anther across political and other social divides. Partisan animosity can erode that tolerance, reducing trust in institutions and fellow citizens.

The fact that Canada remains only moderately polarized and demonstrates low to moderate political sectarianism is hopeful. But we also see areas of concern: the left’s greater dislike of the right; the left’s higher level of “aversion;” and moderate polarization among NDP, Conservative Party and People’s Party supporters.

Those divides could deepen over time, particularly if social media algorithms, partisan media or political leaders reward outrage over understanding.

Looking ahead

So far, Canada’s political culture seems to offer some protection from the extreme polarization that has taken hold of Americans. Canadians of all political loyalties continue to rely on mainstream media and credible news sources.

Still, the pressures that have intensified polarization elsewhere exist in Canada too: a hostile climate in Parliament and growing gaps in attitudes on social issues across the political left and right. How these forces unfold will depend on how elected representatives, the media and citizens choose to engage those who think differently than them.

For now, the Canadian polarization story is one of caution, not crisis. Our political differences are real, but haven’t yet deeply divided us. That advantage is fragile, but worth protecting.

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Sophia Dimitakopolous, an undergraduate student in the Faculty of Science at the University of British Columbia, contributed to this article

Emily Huddart and Tony Silva produced this data with funding support from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada.

– ref. Canada isn’t deeply polarized — yet. What new research reveals about partisan animosity – https://theconversation.com/canada-isnt-deeply-polarized-yet-what-new-research-reveals-about-partisan-animosity-267719

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Lingshan Li, PhD candidate, Department of Geography, Planning and Environment, Concordia University

Canada’s climate is warming twice as fast as the global average, and many cities will experience at least four times as many extreme heat events (days above 30 C) per year in the coming decades.

In Québec alone, elevated summer temperatures were associated with about 470 deaths, 225 hospitalizations, 36,000 emergency room visits, 7,200 ambulance transports and 15,000 calls to a health hotline every year.

To tackle the crisis of climate change, the government of Canada proposed the 2 Billion Trees program that aims to plant two billion trees by 2031 over a period of 10 years.

But such ambitions come with important questions:

• Where and how to plant these trees?
• How to manage the trees to provide more cooling for the people?
• How to direct the cooling to the most underserved communities?

Colleagues and I recently published a study in Montréal that explores how urban green spaces can reduce surface temperature and help promote environmental justice. We found that even small increases in green spaces can make a notable difference in city temperatures.

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Read more:
Urban trees vs. cool roofs: What’s the best way for cities to beat the heat?

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Why the placement of trees is important

If you’ve ever passed under the shade of a tree on a hot summer day and felt the temperature drop, you know how valuable they are in cities. Both the amount and layout of urban green spaces affect how much they can cool a city.

The way trees, parks and other green areas are arranged can change how they provide shade and release moisture into the air, which together determine how much they can lower the surrounding temperature.

Where urban green spaces are located is also related to an important social issue: environmental justice. Unequally distributed green spaces can restrict residents’ access to cooling in certain neighbourhoods, contributing to social inequalities within a city.

Those living in low-income neighbourhoods feeling the harshest impacts of urban heat can struggle to find green spaces where they can cool off. Young children and the elderly are also more susceptible to the dangers of prolonged heat exposure.

There is a need for municipal governments to get a better view of how well these vulnerable groups receive the cooling provided by urban green infrastructure and what factors have driven the unbalanced distribution.

What we found

Using satellite imagery and laser imaging, we found that having more trees, grass and shrubs in an area can notably reduce temperatures. We developed a model to estimate the cooling effect provided by urban green infrastructure based on several indicators. Those indicators reflect the quantity and quality aspect of the urban greenery.

Our model showed that a 10 per cent increase in tree coverage can lower land surface temperature by approximately 1.4 C. A similar increase in shrubs and grass lowers temperatures by about 0.8 C.

The result also indicated that large, continuous groups of trees cool their surroundings better than small, scattered patches. A 10 per cent increase in the aggregation level of tree cluster (area of the largest patch of trees divided by the total area of trees within a landscape unit) can lower land surface temperature by about 0.2 C.

We also found that the cooling provided by green spaces in many parts of Montréal do no meet the needs of local residents. This mismatch varies a lot between census tracts.

Areas in the city abundant with green spaces include boroughs like Le Plateau-Mont-Royal, Outremont, L’Île-Bizard–Sainte-Geneviève and the village of Senneville. Meanwhile, areas such as Montréal-Est, Saint-Leonard and Saint-Laurent have the least amount of green space.

In addition, areas like Pointe-Claire and Montréal-Nord have good green space, but their mismatch index is still low because many vulnerable people live there. The mismatch index is calculated by supply index minus demand index; that means a higher demand index would lead to a lower mismatch index.

Neighbourhoods with higher median incomes and more highly educated people were mostly associated with positive supply-demand values. That indicates their supply of cooling services as provided by urban green spaces was higher than their demand.

In contrast, census tracts with higher proportion of racialized people and people with a lower level of education tend to lack enough green spaces where residents can cool off.

Vulnerable people (young and elderly individuals) with a higher socio-economic status received more cooling services provided by the urban green spaces. In contrast, those on the other end of the socio-economic spectrum were more likely to struggle to easily find a place to cool off.

What we can do in the future

For cities with similar humid summer months like Montréal, urban planners who want to reduce daytime heat should consolidate tree patches into large, continuous areas where possible.

It is also helpful to design smaller-scale green spaces with more irregularly shaped tree patches and create enhanced connectivity, especially for grass, to support small-scale cooling.

In Montréal and other cities where green spaces are unequally distributed, municipal officials should develop ranked action plans for greening efforts that consider environmental justice and prioritize areas where the need for cooling is greatest.

Lingshan Li receives funding from The Trottier Family Foundation and the Natural Sciences and Engineering Research Council of Canada.

– ref. Climate change is making cities hotter. Here’s how planting trees can help – https://theconversation.com/climate-change-is-making-cities-hotter-heres-how-planting-trees-can-help-267827

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Amy Anderson, PHD Student in Art History & Visual Studies, University of Victoria

I was lucky to encounter The Rocky Horror Picture Show early in life, when my mother tracked the DVD down at our local video store so we could watch it together from the comfort of our apartment.

My initial experience lacked some of the context and traditions which, over the last 50 years, have cemented Rocky Horror’s status as the quintessential cult film.

Ironically, in my mother’s case, introducing her child to Rocky Horror required her to remove it from the very setting which gave the film its social significance in the first place: the movie theatre.

While “cult cinema” remains a somewhat nebulous categorization, scholarship consistently ties the term directly to the social situation of audiences receiving films. For cult cinema studies vanguards like Danny Peary, a movie doesn’t achieve cult status by simply inspiring a collective fan base. A cult film is born through ritualistic traditions of audience attendance that must occur in a public, social screening setting like a movie theatre.

The Rocky Horror Picture Show — the Hollywood-funded screen adaptation of Jim Sharman and Richard O’Brien’s successful British stage musical — owes its cult success to independent, repertory cinemas.

Second life after box office flop

Considered a box office flop upon its 1975 release, the film soon found its second life as a midnight movie at New York City’s Waverly Theatre the following year.

At late night screenings, Rocky Horror drew audiences who were attracted to the film’s eclectic use of pastiche and radical depictions of queer sexuality.

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Read more:
At 50, The Rocky Horror Picture Show is ‘imperfectly’ good (and queer) as ever

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Marking its 50th anniversary this year, the film continues to inspire a loyal following. Costumed fans still flock to local theatres, props in hand, to participate in performed traditions of audience participation, some of which have now been passed down for half a century.

Cult films and independent cinemas

One might argue that Rocky Horror’s expansion beyond the raucous, rice-strewn aisles of midnight movie screenings into personal, domestic settings (for example, my childhood living room) signals the precarious existence of both cult cinema and independent theatres.

Indeed, the two phenomena have become increasingly codependent. On the one hand, the Rocky Horror experience cannot be authentically replicated at home, since the exciting novelty of cult film screenings lies in the somewhat unpredictable nature of public, collective viewing practices.

The survival of Rocky Horror as we’ve come to know it hinges on the continued existence of independent cinemas, which provide settings for inclusive self expression and queer celebration that corporate cinema chains are less hospitable to.

In turn, cult cinema’s ephemeral quality makes it resistant to the allure of private, individualized entertainment, hailed by technological developments like VHS and DVD and of course, most recently, online streaming services.

Movie-viewing changes

Throughout my time as the programmer for a non-profit repertory cinema in Victoria, B.C. in the face of post-pandemic attendance declines and online streaming competitors — not to mention Cineplex’s continued monopoly over the Canadian theatrical exhibition landscape — I saw first-hand the economic necessity of screening Rocky Horror.

When independent cinemas are looking for consistent sources of revenue, cult films like Rocky Horror are top of the list.

In my past cinema experience, the only other films that regularly had comparative popularity are now also considered cult titles: the early-aughts favourite The Room and more recently the Twilight movies.

Human experiences, together

Programming The Rocky Horror Picture Show for five years also revealed for me cult cinema’s important relationship to chance. One of the more embarrassing moments of my programming career came when a projectionist unknowingly screened an unappetizingly sepia-toned version of Rocky Horror to a sold-out theatre audience. What remains a mortifying mistake still, I think, captures the essential element of humanness that remains integral to public moviegoing traditions.

Cult cinema exemplifies the adventurous nature of collective viewing. While Rocky Horror screenings traditionally encourage the audience’s self-expression, as with all cinema, each showing is a unique occurrence. This reminds us that it’s sometimes beneficial to suspend our expectations (colour grading aside) of how a film is meant to be seen.

Cult cinema: a paradox of time

In my doctoral research, I examine how moving images continually influence our lived relationship to time. Cinema is, at its heart, a medium of time, since its signature illusion of lifelike movement is created by displaying a collection of still images (or pixels) in a process of successive duration. Film theorist Mary Ann Doane observes that cinema’s unique ties to temporality have profoundly structured many essential aspects of modern human experience.

Cult cinema poses an intriguing paradox with regards to time. At cinemas, we typically aspire to give films our undivided attention. We derive meaning — and hopefully, pleasure — through a concentrated and cohesive understanding of what is occurring on the screen in front of us.

Conversely, showings of Rocky Horror and other cult films require different levels of presence and engagement. The average theatrical Rocky Horror viewer’s focus is divided dramatically between virtual, onscreen space and the physical environment of the theatre, including the audience’s expressions.

Consequently, the spectator’s perception vacillates between the film as an unchanging record of time passed (what Doane calls “cinematic time”) and the more contingent, unpredictable nature of “real” time perceived from and within our physical bodies.

The audience’s movie

Perhaps the magic of cult cinema is formed where these two temporal frequencies meet: when Rocky Horror’s cinematic time occurs in tandem with the delightful unpredictability of a live audience.

This sentiment was maybe best articulated by the actor Barry Bostwick, who played the role of Brad Majors in The Rocky Horror Picture Show, in a documentary interview:

“The reason people think [Rocky Horror is] the greatest cult movie of all time is because it’s their movie, they own it. It’s as if they make it every time they go to the theatre.”

Amy Anderson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. How ‘The Rocky Horror Picture Show’ reveals the magic of cult cinema – https://theconversation.com/how-the-rocky-horror-picture-show-reveals-the-magic-of-cult-cinema-267712

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Farinaz Basmechi, Doctoral researcher, Feminist and Gender Studies, L’Université d’Ottawa/University of Ottawa

Last month marked the third anniversary of the Woman, Life, Freedom movement in Iran, an uprising that has been described as the country’s most significant movement since the establishment of the Islamic Republic.

Though authoritarian powers and patriarchal systems continue to oppress, women journalists in the Middle East have combined reporting and activism. Many of these professionals operate under regimes that criminalize dissent. For them, reporting isn’t just a profession, it merges with acts of resistance.

Across the region, journalists like Egypt’s Lina Attalah, who continues to publish investigative reports despite state repression, and Yemen’s Afrah Nasser, whose exile hasn’t silenced her voice, act as catalysts for change, using their platforms to amplify marginalized voices, challenge oppressive systems and mobilize communities in liberation-focused movements.

Through the years, their work has gone far beyond reporting news and has become a vital force for truth, justice and social transformation in the region.

Telling the truth under threat

Ever since social media and blogs became widely accessible, women journalists have stood at the forefront, playing a crucial role in raising awareness of inequality, often in competition with predominantly male-dominated mainstream news outlets that are heavily censored or operate under tight government influence.

My Stealthy Freedom (MSF), for example, one of the most prominent social movements in Iran, was launched in 2014 by exiled Iranian journalist Masih Alinejad. What started as a Facebook page supporting Iranian women’s autonomy in making personal choices about their dress quickly gained more than one million followers.

In May 2017, MSF launched the #WhiteWednesdays campaign, encouraging participants to wear white headscarves or other symbols on Wednesdays as a visible form of protest against the mandatory hijab law. The campaign later expanded through tactical hashtags like #MarchingWithoutHijab and #OurCameraIsOurWeapon.

While Alinejad was working abroad, the government arrested her brother to pressure her to end her activism. In addition, New York police arrested two men involved in a murder-for-hire plot against her.

In Lebanon, independent journalist Luna Safwan, who covers corruption, gender-based violence and protest movements, has experienced co-ordinated online harassment for her critical reporting on Hezbollah and gender inequality. She faced two defamation SLAPP suits from her harasser and his lawyer after she and six other women publicly accused activist Jaafar al-Attar of sexual misconduct in 2021.

Lina Attalah, editor-in-chief of Mada Masr, one of the few remaining independent media outlets in Egypt, has been detained several times for publishing investigative reports on government corruption and women’s rights. She continues to advocate for press freedom and digital security for journalists under authoritarian regimes.

Award-winning Yemeni journalist and blogger Afrah Nasser was forced to flee into exile after documenting human rights violations and gender-based violence during Yemen’s civil war. As a researcher with Human Rights Watch, she continues to advocate for accountability, freedom of expression and justice for victims of war crimes in Yemen.

Yara Bader, a Syrian Journalist and human rights advocate who leads the Syrian Center for Media and Freedom of Expression, has exposed state-led detentions, torture and media suppression. Despite facing arrest and exile, she continues to advocate for press freedom and the protection of detained journalists in Syria.

In Tunisia, Lina Ben Mhenni — a blogger, digital activist and journalist — used her blog, A Tunisian Girl, during the Arab Spring to report on rural and under-covered regions. She documented police brutality and government repression and helped expose injustices to both the Tunisian public and the international community. She later became an advocate for human rights and freedom of expression in Tunisia.

Al Jazeera Palestinian journalist Bisan Owda has used her Instagram account to issue calls for global solidarity since 2023. The reporting of Owda and others from Gaza, like Hind Khoudary and Youmna ElSayed, have led to worldwide demonstrations, including a global strike on university campuses in 2024 and, more recently, the global strike in August 2025.

Middle Eastern women journalists like these have been crucial in documenting on-the-ground realities and mobilizing resistance against colonial, authoritarian and patriarchal violence.

Reclaiming the narrative digitally

The truth is that Middle Eastern women journalists have been actively reporting in places like Palestine and covering other conflict zones, often under dangerous conditions, for a long time.

While on the job, for example, veteran Al Jazeera reporter Shireen Abu Akleh was fatally shot by an Israeli soldier during a military operation in Jenin despite wearing a clearly marked “press” flak jacket.

Social media and blogging sites have given women journalists the platforms needed to spread messages of resistance.

And although Middle Eastern women journalists face a dual struggle — against patriarchal state structures and lingering colonial forces — they persist, fighting for a more equitable world and to mobilize others toward that goal.

In today’s world, where human rights seem increasingly fragile, Middle Eastern women journalists demonstrate determination and resilience. They advocate for human rights and fight against gender-based violence while shaping narratives and striving for social transformation within their geopolitical contexts and beyond.

In many Middle Eastern countries, access to official news channels is often reserved for reinforcing authoritarian narratives, while feminist journalists act as agents of change, using widely accessible platforms — particularly social media — to create spaces for awareness and reform.

Women journalists resist oversimplified portrayals of women as oppressed by family, state or colonial power. They reveal women’s role as active agents of change, exposing injustice and advancing movements for equality.

Farinaz Basmechi does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. In the Middle East, women journalists and activists have been driving crucial change – https://theconversation.com/in-the-middle-east-women-journalists-and-activists-have-been-driving-crucial-change-265273

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Laura Doering, Associate Professor of Strategic Management, University of Toronto

Return-to-office mandates are spreading across North America, with Canada’s major banks, the Ontario government, Amazon and Facebook calling employees back into the office.

These moves reverse the flexibility that became widespread during the COVID-19 pandemic, when remote work became the new norm as public health measures emphasized staying home and avoiding large gatherings.

Supporters of these policies often cite collaboration, innovation and mentorship as reasons to bring workers together in person.

But our research shows that these mandates don’t affect everyone equally. For many women, returning to the office means stepping back into environments where gender bias is more pronounced.

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Read more:
As back-to-school season approaches, Canadian employers are making a mistake by mandating workers back to the office

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Everyday discrimination at work

When people think about gender discrimination, many imagine pay gaps or barriers to promotion. But discrimination also plays out in routine interactions — what we refer to as “everyday gender discrimination” in our study.

These are regular slights and offences that can chip away at women’s confidence and sense of belonging over time. They might include being ignored in meetings, being asked to perform administrative tasks outside one’s role, receiving inappropriate comments or having one’s ideas credited to others.

While each single incident might seem trivial, their cumulative effect can make women feel frustrated, dissatisfied with their jobs and more likely to leave their organizations.

As organizations reassess where and how people work in the wake of the pandemic, we decided to examine whether everyday discrimination looks different in remote versus in-person settings.

Clear differences by location

To investigate how location shapes everyday gender discrimination, we surveyed 1,091 professional women in the United States with hybrid jobs, or roles that involved both in-person and remote work. Our design allowed us to compare the same person’s experiences across work locations and pinpoint the impact of location itself.

The results were striking. Women were significantly more likely to experience everyday gender discrimination when working on-site than when working remotely.

In a typical month, 29 per cent of respondents reported experiencing discrimination in the office, compared to just 18 per cent when working from home. These patterns held across types of discrimination, from being underestimated to being excluded from social activities and experiencing sexual harassment.

The contrast was especially sharp for two groups: younger women (under 30) and women who worked mostly with men. Among younger women, the likelihood of experiencing discrimination dropped from 31 per cent on site to just 14 per cent when remote.

Similarly, women who interacted primarily with men saw their likelihood of experiencing discrimination fall from 58 per cent on site to 26 per cent remotely. For these groups, remote work provides a meaningful reduction in exposure to everyday gender discrimination.

The trade-offs of remote work

Still, remote work is no silver bullet for gender inequality. Our findings highlight a key advantage — reduced exposure to everyday discrimination — but there are important trade-offs that need to be considered.

One challenge is that working remotely can limit informal interactions that are crucial for building relationships. It can also reduce access to mentors and feedback and make it harder for women to be considered for high-profile assignments.

Remote work can also make it harder to tell where the office ends and home begins, pulling family duties into the workday and intensifying family obligations even during work hours.

These factors are crucial for career advancement, especially for women. While remote work offers an environment with less everyday gender discrimination, working off-site may also limit women’s professional opportunities.

Understanding these trade-offs is essential as organizations craft return-to-office policies. Rather than treating remote work as inherently good or bad, leaders need nuanced strategies that combine the benefits of both in-person and remote work.

What employers and policymakers can do

As companies and governments push employees to return to the office, they risk overlooking how much location matters for women’s workplace experiences. Here are three steps organizations can take to address this issue:

1. Offer flexibility where possible.

Giving employees the option to work remotely empowers women to choose the environment where they feel most respected and productive. Some companies have adopted remote-first policies, framing them as tools for talent retention. Such policies allow employees to make decisions about the work location that suits them best.

2. Import best practices from remote meetings.

While virtual meetings tend to be less engaging, they are also more efficient and focused, with fewer opportunities for offhand comments or interruptions. Applying that same structure to in-person meetings could reduce discrimination while improving productivity.

Companies should consider formal agendas, structured turn-taking and asynchronous feedback to create fairer, more professional discussions. Amazon, for example, applied this principle by centring in-person meetings around “six-page memos” rather than open-ended discussions.

3. Acknowledge the trade-offs.

Leaders should recognize that, while on-site work can accelerate skill development, it can also magnify gender bias. A frank acknowledgement of this tension is the first step toward creating systems that minimize harm while maximizing opportunity.

One bank we studied in separate research, which hasn’t been published yet, overcame this challenge by pairing junior staff with senior mentors and implementing a project-tracking system to ensure equitable assignment of opportunities.

Location, location, location

Workplace discrimination is not only an ethical problem — it also undermines performance, fuels turnover and exposes firms to legal risks.

Our study shows that where work happens — remotely or on site — plays a central role in shaping women’s exposure to everyday gender discrimination.

As organizations roll back the remote work practices adopted during the pandemic, it’s important to recognize that decisions about location can powerfully shape employees’ experiences and professional opportunities at work.

Thoughtful policies that balance the benefits of in-person interaction with the protections afforded by remote work can help ensure that women face less everyday discrimination and experience greater equality at work.

Laura Doering receives funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the Institute for Gender and the Economy at Rotman, and the Lee-Chin Institute.

András Tilcsik has received research funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, the University of Toronto’s Institute for Pandemics, and the Institute for Gender and the Economy at the Rotman School of Management.

– ref. Remote work reduced gender discrimination — returning to the office may change that – https://theconversation.com/remote-work-reduced-gender-discrimination-returning-to-the-office-may-change-that-265945

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Sylvain Amoros, Adjunct Professor, Department of Marketing, HEC Montréal

In early 2025, some of Canada’s largest banks — including those with the highest digital emissions and greatest responsibility — withdrew from the Net Zero Asset Managers Initiative.

These major institutions, with digital carbon footprints that are disproportionately large, cited regulatory complexity and competitive pressures for their departure. This move has intensified questions from investors, policymakers and the public about their commitment to sustainability.

At the same time, Bill C-59, adopted in late 2024, introduced new provisions under the Competition Act to strengthen accountability for greenwashing and misleading environmental claims.

The timing is striking: as Ottawa tightens disclosure rules, the same large banks that dominate digital emissions are stepping away from voluntary climate commitments. This tension between voluntary pledges and federal accountability underscores the growing pressure on financial institutions to prove — rather than simply promote — their environmental performance.

Digital carbon footprint

For decades, banks have presented themselves as leaders in sustainability through renewable energy financing and ambitious environmental, social and governance commitments. Yet their recent departure from climate coalitions — coupled with their outsized digital carbon footprints — represents an alarming reversal.

We recently conducted a study of the environmental impact of nine Canadian banks including the big five: CIBC, TD Bank, Scotiabank, Royal Bank of Canada and BMO. Our recent study sought to quantify banks’ environmental impact through their digital carbon footprint.

Banks are pillars of our economy and society, possessing both the power and responsibility to lead the transition toward a more sustainable economy. However, their recent withdrawal from the Net Zero Asset Managers Initiative, coupled with ongoing concerns about greenwashing, raises legitimate questions about their true commitment to sustainability.

In this context, our goal as researchers is to provide both bank clients and financial institutions with crucial information about their environmental impact. Understanding the environmental footprint of banks’ digital operations is essential, as this often-overlooked aspect constitutes a significant portion of their overall carbon footprint.

We analyzed public data from 2024 to measure the carbon impact of Canadian banks’ digital practices. Our study examined two main dimensions:

1) Website usage (the energy consumed by website loading, data transfers and hosting) and;

2) Traffic acquisition, which includes all marketing activities that bring visitors to these sites, such as email marketing, paid advertising search engine optimization and social media campaigns.

The objective was to compare carbon emissions among different banks, assess their efficiency per visit and provide transparent information to the public. By identifying the most polluting areas in digital operations, we provide recommendations for improvement.

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Read more:
Canadian financial institutions are fuelling the climate change crisis

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Social media activity

Our study uncovered significant findings about Canadian banks’ digital environmental impact. Most strikingly, we found a performance gap where the worst bank emits twice as much carbon per visitor as the best; just three banks account for two-thirds of total emissions.

To clarify, “traffic acquisition” refers to the process of attracting visitors to a website — whether through paid ads, organic search results, or social media content. Organic traffic comes from users who find a bank’s site naturally through search engines, social media or content marketing, while paid traffic is generated through advertising placements.

The data reveals that 77 per cent of digital emissions come from traffic acquisition versus only 23 per cent from website usage. Paid traffic drives 95 per cent of traffic emissions despite being a small fraction of total traffic, while organic traffic accounts for just five per cent of emissions.

Paid social media is particularly problematic — responsible for 58 per cent of emissions while generating only one per cent of total traffic.

In other words, social media ads are highly inefficient from a carbon perspective: a visitor coming from online advertising emits 418 times more carbon dioxide than one coming from organic sources.

These results expose online advertising — especially social media campaigns — as major hidden pollution sources.

A hidden source of pollution

These findings highlight how online advertising — particularly social media campaigns — can become a major source of digital pollution. The reality is clear: every click has a carbon cost.

Banks can improve their inbound marketing, meaning strategies that attract users organically through relevant content, search optimization and user experience improvements rather than through paid ads.

Transparency and sustainable digital practices are essential for greener banking — practices that reduce emissions without sacrificing innovation or competitiveness.

After withdrawing from the Net Zero Asset Managers Initiative and maintaining public net-zero commitments, many banks continue to generate significant emissions through their digital operations.

This raises a critical question for regulators, investors and consumers alike: will banks leverage their considerable resources to lead on sustainability, or continue to delay meaningful action?

Our next study will assess whether these institutions uphold their commitments or persist in their current practices, despite the escalating climate urgency.

Victor Prouteau, who at the time of this study was an M. Sc. student at HEC Montréal, co-authored this article.

The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Major Canadian banks’ digital emissions stay massive while they disclose less and less – https://theconversation.com/major-canadian-banks-digital-emissions-stay-massive-while-they-disclose-less-and-less-260768

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Maneesha Deckha, Professor and Lansdowne Chair in law, University of Victoria

Most people think countries like Canada have strong animal protection laws, but it doesn’t. A case in point is the unfolding tragedy-in-the-making at Marineland.

Facing economic ruin amid waning public acceptance of whale captivity, Marineland has threatened it will euthanize its remaining 30 beluga whales unless the government provides emergency funding for their care.

This ultimatum follows the federal government’s recent denial of Marineland’s request for an export permit to ship the belugas to a large theme park in China. Fisheries Minister Joanne Thompson denied the permit due to concerns that the belugas would be used for entertainment — a fate now illegal in Canada since the 2019 ban on capturing cetaceans for display.

The 2019 federal legislation banned bringing new cetaceans into captivity, subject to a few exceptions. Ontario passed a similar law in 2015. However, the cetaceans who were already in captivity were not included, effectively preserving Marineland’s property rights over its remaining animals.

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Read more:
Marineland’s decline raises questions about the future of zoo tourism

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But with changing public attitudes, Marineland now has a deteriorating facility and expensive care on its hands for animals it can no longer use to turn a profit.

The threat to kill the belugas as a solution to its economic woes, while shocking, reflects the ethical emptiness of the Canadian legal system when it comes to animals. Simply put, Canadian law still allows human and corporate owners to kill their animals because animals are legally treated as “property.”

The weakness of Canada’s animal cruelty laws

Marineland can carry out its “euthanasia” so long as it doesn’t run afoul of tepid anti-cruelty laws, which are poorly enforced, as demonstrated by Marineland’s history.

Animal advocates have long argued that captive and socially deprived animals at Marineland have suffered for decades. A 2012 Toronto Star investigation series brought overdue and much-needed public and prosecutorial attention to the park, resulting in more than 200 visits by provincial inspectors since 2000.

Even so, since 2019, 20 whales have died in Marineland’s care. The park has only been charged with animal cruelty a handful of times, and all of those charges were eventually dropped. Other complaints to Animal Welfare Services, the provincial body responsible for the enforcement of anti-cruelty legislation, have largely gone nowhere.

In fact, anti-cruelty charges against Marineland have only gone ahead twice: once in 2021 regarding water quality for the cetaceans and once in relation to its care of black bears in 2024.

The dearth of legal sanctions for Marineland, and its ability to hold the lives of its belugas as a bargaining chip, highlights the need for a legal paradigm shift.

But it’s not just the interests and needs of whales that are at stake here. Other animals matter, too, not least the non-cetaceans still at Marineland and the animals trapped in farms, labs and zoos.

Challenging human exceptionalism

As I’ve written at length in my book Animals as Legal Beings, we need to displace the human exceptionalism that characterizes our laws and shapes our relationships with all animals — even dogs, cats and other companion animals.

This means rejecting the idea that humans are superior and animals are merely “property.” It also means valuing and respecting animals enough to stop their immense suffering in captive industries.

Eliminating human exceptionalism would dramatically reshape society by calling for structural changes to our economy, laws and daily practices. But it would benefit all of us.

Now, more than ever, we need to see the links between the dismal legal treatment of animals and other social issues. As I have also written about, human exceptionalism in the law undermines efforts to surmount sexism and racism because all of these systems depend on devaluing animals.

Human exceptionalism is also incompatible with reconciliation and decolonization, which require respect for Indigenous worldviews and laws. Many Indigenous legal orders view animals as equals, kin and beings with their own intentions, families and life purposes.

Keeping belugas and other animals in captivity disavows animal autonomy and devastates animal families. The suffering of captive animals is part of a broader failure to see animals as fellow beings with their own rights.

Protecting animal lives

Human exceptionalism is at the heart of climate change, biodiversity loss, ocean warming and other planetary health crises. The same extractive logic that drives industrial pollution, deforestation and climate destruction also governs how we treat animals.

While whales in the ocean have it better than the belugas still enduring captivity at Marineland, all animals — no matter where they live — are unjustly harmed by a social and legal system that privileges human and corporate interests and runs roughshod over the interests of non-humans.

The belugas and other animals at Marineland deserve to live. A legal system that allows them to be killed because it is economically convenient is one that needs to change. It’s not the belugas that should be euthanized, but rather the human exceptionalism that continues to drive Canadian law and policy.

We can transition away from this outdated and harmful worldview toward a future that views justice and compassion from an interspecies lens and will uplift us all.

Maneesha Deckha is a monthly supporter of the advocacy group Animal Justice.

– ref. The fate of Marineland’s belugas expose the ethical cracks in Canadian animal law – https://theconversation.com/the-fate-of-marinelands-belugas-expose-the-ethical-cracks-in-canadian-animal-law-267500

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Mira Sucharov, Professor of Political Science, Carleton University

With antisemitism on the rise while Israeli-Palestinian relations remain at an historic low, one question that continues to dog public discourse is whether anti-Zionism is a form of antisemitism.

The stakes within the Jewish community have recently increased, with the issuing of a letter signed by more than 850 American rabbis and cantors opposing New York City mayoral frontrunner Zohran Mamdani due to his opposition to Zionism. The letter argues that anti-Zionism “encourage[s] and exacerbate[s] hostility toward Judaism and Jews.”

Why does the distinction matter?

If anti-Zionism is understood to be antisemitism, then those protesting or otherwise articulating deep opposition to the governing ideology of the state of Israel could find themselves on the receiving end of public opprobrium — harsh criticism and disgrace.

A global debate with deep roots

People in Canada and the United States have lost employment offers and jobs for seeming anti-Zionist.

This debate is not new, however. In 2022, Jonathan Greenblatt, head of the Anti-Defamation League, stated that “anti-Zionism is antisemitism” and that anti-Zionism is “an ideology rooted in rage.” A year later, the U.S. House of Representatives passed a resolution stating that “anti-Zionism is antisemitism.”

In 2017, French President Emmanuel Macron called anti-Zionism a “reinvented form of antisemitism.” And perhaps most importantly, against this backdrop is the definition of antisemitism adopted by many countries, including the U.S. and Canada, which brings the two concepts very close together, if not outright equating them.

Specifically, the International Holocaust Remembrance Alliance defines antisemitism, among other things, as “denying the Jewish people their right to self-determination (e.g., by claiming that the existence of a State of Israel is a racist endeavour).”

What data reveals about Zionism

But is anti-Zionism really antisemitism?

To determine whether anti-Zionism is antisemitic, we first need to think about how we define Zionism. As a Canadian Jewish political scientist, my own research has found that the term Zionism is understood in wildly different ways.

In 2022, I surveyed American Jews with a weighted sample to account for various demographics. I found that while 58 per cent identified as Zionist, 70 per cent identified as such when I defined Zionism as “a feeling of attachment to Israel.” When I defined Zionism as a “belief in a Jewish and democratic state,” the number rose slightly, to 72 per cent.

But a very different picture emerged when I presented a vastly alternate definition of Zionism. If Zionism, I offered, “means the belief in privileging Jewish rights over non-Jewish rights in Israel, are you a Zionist?” Here, respondents’ support for the kind of Zionism experienced by Palestinians plummeted: only 10 per cent of respondents said they were “definitely” (three per cent) or “probably” (seven per cent) Zionist, according to this definition, with a full 69 per cent saying they were “probably not” or “definitely not.”

A lifetime of analysis of Zionism, and adopting various labels at different phases of life for myself — I have at times identified as progressive Zionist, liberal Zionist, anti-Zionist, non-Zionist and none of the above — leads me to conclude that anti-Zionism and antisemitism should be considered distinct concepts.

Identity, nationalism and belonging

Those who see anti-Zionism as antisemitic deploy various arguments.

One is that self-determination is a right, and denying that right to Jews — and sometimes seemingly only to Jews — is discriminatory and prejudicial. But while everyone has the right to self-determination, no one has the right to determine themselves by denying the rights of others to do the same.

Another is that given that the majority of Jews by most accounts embrace some form of Zionism, denying a part of their identity is hateful. But unlike most other markers and symbols of ethnic or religious identity, Zionism has historically, and continues to, directly affect another ethnic group: namely, Palestinians.

Contrast this kind of identity with dietary laws, clothing restrictions, modes of prayer and one’s relationship to sacred texts: none of these aspects of identity necessarily affect another group. By contrast, the historical record of how Zionism has affected Palestinians is vast.

A third argument concerns antisemitism in general — that every other group gets to define the terminology around their own oppression, and therefore so should Jews. But again, when a state — which by definition interacts with others within and outside its borders — is brought into the equation, the debate about antisemitism ceases to be about only Jews.

At its core, Zionism is a political ideology. A cornerstone of liberal society is political debate, including subjecting ideologies to the stress test of critique. These ideologies include capitalism, socialism, social democracy, communism, ethno-nationalism, settler colonialism, theocracy, Islamism, Hindu nationalism and so on.

In the right of others to support, oppose, analyze or criticize it, Zionism is — or at least should be — be no different.

The personal and the political

I understand why many Jews feel that anti-Zionist actions or statements are hateful to their identity. Most Jews have grown up believing that to be Jewish is to feel a deep connection to the state of Israel.

I grew up singing Hatikvah, Israel’s national anthem, every evening at Hebrew summer camp in Manitoba as we lowered the two flags hanging from the flagpole: one the flag of Canada, the other, of course, of Israel.

And in many synagogues across Canada, it is typical to hear the Prayer for Israel recited, and it is not uncommon for the Israeli flag to be displayed prominently. At one synagogue I attended last year for a family celebration, there were even depictions of Israel Defense Forces soldiers etched into the stained-glass windows above the sanctuary.

But to feel connected to Israel — the land, the people, the safe refuge it has served for Jews in crisis, especially but not only after the Holocaust — one doesn’t necessarily need to embrace its governing ideology.

One can seek to understand the harm Zionism has caused to Palestinians. One can try to consider alternative framings, ideologies or governing structures that would enable Israelis to thrive along with Palestinians.

As Zionist founder Theodor Herzl famously said, “If you will it, it is no dream.”

Mira Sucharov has received funding from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council. She is on the Advisory Council of New Israel Fund-Canada, sits on the task force of the Nexus Project, and is a founding signatory of the Jerusalem Declaration on Antisemitism.

– ref. The conflation problem: Why anti-Zionism and anti-semitism are not the same – https://theconversation.com/the-conflation-problem-why-anti-zionism-and-anti-semitism-are-not-the-same-267676

Source: The Conversation – Canada – By Chantal M. Boucher, Assistant Professor, Clinical Psychologist, University of Windsor

We all want closure. A breakup, a sudden job loss, or the death of someone we love can leave us desperate for answers. Wars, natural disasters and shared tragedies stir the same kind of longing.

Our need for closure runs so deep, it’s echoed everywhere — in movies, novels, songs about heartbreak and loss, even in everyday phrases like “moving on” or “getting over” something.

However, closure is easier said than done. Sometimes it never fully arrives. When it doesn’t, unfinished business can weigh on us, affecting our mood, our health, our identity and our relationships. In a world of growing uncertainties, learning how to cope with what’s “open” or unresolved is essential.

As a psychologist, I am interested in studying why closure matters, why it’s hard to find and how we can begin to heal when life fails to provide clear answers.

What is closure, and why does it matter?

Closure is the psychological sense of resolution felt when a painful or confusing experience is settled enough that it no longer demands constant mental and emotional energy.

It’s a sense that an event is understood, settled and no longer bothersome. Without it, old memories intrude like uninvited guests, resurfacing with regret, anger or confusion, even years later.

Trauma research shows unresolved memories can feel as though they’re happening right now until they’re reframed as part of the distant past. Everyday hurts work the same way.

Resolution frees the mind to focus on what matters now — our goals, our emotional needs and the people around us — with calm and clarity. This is why so many turn to therapy, self-help resources and other tools to make sense of, find peace with or otherwise close open parts of their lives.

Measuring closure: A step forward

Despite its popularity and adaptive value, closure has been hard to study because it has been hard to measure. A new tool colleagues and I have developed, the Closure and Resolution Scale, is changing that.

This self-report measure captures multiple facets of resolution — finality, understanding, distance, emotional relief, mental release, even behavioural shifts — offering a comprehensive picture of what closure looks and feels like for people.

Clinicians and researchers can use the CRS to track progress, test interventions and identify what helps or hinders resolution.

Our preliminary work, aided by research assistant, Meaghan Tome, suggests that beliefs about finding closure are as rich and nuanced as the construct itself.

Some see it as self-driven, others as dependent on someone else. Some treat it as active problem-solving, others as quiet acceptance. Some lean on internal change, others on external action. These personal theories shape how we seek — or avoid — closure in our own lives.

Why we struggle to find closure

Why does closure often feel out of reach? Research suggests several reasons.

Ambiguity: When stories feel unfinished, like when we’re ghosted, the mind scrambles to fill in the blanks. We crave coherent explanations, but life doesn’t always provide them.

Avoidance: Pain hurts. Memories can spark guilt, shame, fear or grief, and our natural inclination is to push these feelings away. Avoidance offers short-term relief but delays real healing. What we resist persists.

Barriers: Open memories are often interpersonal. People who lack closure may feel like they need an apology, explanation or conversation that never comes. Limited time, money or unsupportive environments can make getting closure feel impossible.

Working toward closure

If you or someone in your life is struggling with closure, here are a few things you can try:

Talk it through. Therapy can help name the experience, examine thoughts, manage emotions and identify steps toward resolution.

Write it out. Expressive writing and journaling can ease intrusive memories and facilitate new meaning. Try writing an unsent letter when direct dialogue isn’t possible.

Shift perspective. Reframe the story from an outside view or focus on the broader significance to gain clarity and distance.

Lean on others. Friends, peers or people who’ve “been there” can offer comfort and validation.

Rethink closure. Some endings remain unresolved. For ambiguous losses, rituals, meaning-making and flexibility can help to live with uncertainty.

Act on values. When change is possible, take purposeful steps that align with your values — have the conversation, set boundaries, leave harmful situations. When it isn’t, let go, treat it as a lesson rather than a weight and redirect your energy.

Beware the closure trap

Not every experience is “closable” in the way we might hope. Some losses are ambiguous. Some events remain unclear. And rigid ideas about what closure should look like can keep us stuck.

A healthier aim is to make space for what can’t be answered, create meaning where we can and live our values alongside the unknown — freeing attention and energy, with acceptance and compassion, for what matters now.

Closure isn’t always possible, but new meaning and movement forward always are.

Looking ahead

Closure isn’t about forgetting the past. It’s about learning to live with it, answers or no answers. What we know so far is that closure is deeply personal, impacting our health, our relationships and our views of ourselves and others.

While therapy, writing, social support or values-guided actions can help, the path to resolution is rarely one-size-fits-all. Tools like the Closure and Resolution Scale can help us to better understand the idiosyncrasies of this journey.

In the end, what often hurts most is not an event itself, but the silence and questions it leaves behind. The good news? Closure doesn’t have to be given by others. It can be chosen.

Sometimes the most powerful ending is the one we write ourselves.

Chantal M. Boucher does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.

– ref. Struggling with closure? Here are some things you can try – https://theconversation.com/struggling-with-closure-here-are-some-things-you-can-try-264856