Written by: Diana Flacks Directed by: Kelly Thornton Produced by: Nightwood Theatre Shown at: Buddies in Bad Times Theatre In rapid-fire debate with complex and heart-wrenching backstories, Unholy addresses every inner conflict any woman has when considering her place in religion. Unholy is written in a talk show-style where the audience gets to vote throughout the debate on which side they agree with. Four women from drastically different religious backgrounds face off on the  question, “Should women abandon religion?” On the “no” side is Yehudit Kalb, a Rabba and Maryam Hashemi, a progressive Muslim lawyer. On the “yes” side a lesbian atheist, Liz Feldman-Grant, and an ex-communicated nun: Margaret Donohue. Liz, played by Flacks, gives a forceful performance. As the women grapple over issues like the right to wear a niqab, Liz is more aggressive in her approach than the others -  determined to prove that organized religion is an unnecessary evil. Maryam, played by Bahareh Yaraghi, is her fiercest opponent. The two face off in a heart versus head battle. This rivalry carries out of the debate and into their personal lives.  The audience gets a glimpse into Maryam and Liz’s tumultuous relationship outside of the debate, making their moments of intense disagreement during the debate even more complex and heated. These moments provided the background context needed to understand each woman’s position. The audience sees Margaret, played by Barbara Gordon, in her past struggling with the ethics of her role as a nun. Yehudit, played by Niki Landau, takes us back to her sister’s wedding and her own internal debate there. Unholy isn’t afraid to touch on sensitive subjects. Every time the subject material moves into the uglier territories of bigotry informed by both religion and secularism, at least one of the women reigns everyone back in. Liz’s character appears deeply reflective of Flacks’ own experience turning from Judaism to atheism. Flacks researched each position and religion extensively before putting this performance together. It is this base of human experience that makes each performance so compelling. Yehudit and Maryam, women who have worked so hard in their own faiths to encourage and inspire progression, tug on your heartstrings. Liz and Margaret do the same as women who have seen the worst of religion and the damage it can do. Flacks explained in the Q & A afterwards, love, what she describes as “a great counterpoint to the damage religion and god causes,” is what lurks behind each woman’s experience and perspective. Unholy does a thorough job of unpacking the difficulty facing women involved with inherently misogynistic religions. When the host, played by Blair Williams, asks you to choose a side at the end of the play, you might’ve been surprised by your answer.

The gist of Kate Hennig’s play isn’t soft to focus. It’s sharp and it’s heavy. I’ve been baring the weight of Hennig’s play, The Last Wife, since I saw it at Soulpepper with a (very good) cup of coffee. As we enter the marriage of England’s King Henry VIII and Katherine Parr, we are repeatedly forced to swallow the big pill: that “patriarchy is a natural, organizational principle”, as Henry (Joseph Ziegler) spit at one point in the play. This construct seems to be binding, but the play illuminates the glory of Kate’s lady powers that allow her to evade the 16th century’s prevailing misogyny. Katherine (Maev Beaty), or “Kate”, is called on to marry Henry like she’s made of pretty porcelain that he’s picked off of the shelf. He commands her hand in marriage, but she does not marry for love, as she already has a sweetheart: the endearing Thom (Gareth Potter). She entertains the idea of being Queen because of the power that comes with the title. Apprehensively, she enters the agreement. Through her lens, we experience the final months of Henry’s rule in a not-so-historical manner. Having previously disowned his daughters Mary (Sara Farb) and Bess (Bahia Watson), Kate’s mandatory compensation for the marriage is that Henry allows her to get the girls back in line of succession. Kate pulls them away from their needlepoint and into philosophy lessons, along with Henry’s son Eddie (Joan Q. Gribble). She continues to do this when Henry goes away to war in France and she adopts the role of regent, all the while instilling feminist wisdom into the brains of her stepchildren. Kate controls the hard-to-cross boundaries of her sexual relationship with her husband throughout the play, but when Henry returns from war, their long-time longing leads to them sharing their first on-stage moments of honest romance. From shaping Eddie further into King-material, to strategizing the arrival of appropriate arms into France, allowing Henry to drag himself home, she had proved her worth. From Kate’s perspective, since she held down the fort so tightly, she had become his equal. But when she expects Henry to grant her more rights, his ego is bruised.  Fuelled by fear of Henry giving her head the chop she plays a silent and compliant queen until his reign comes to a close. Luckily, I brought a friend with me to the play that has extensive knowledge in Elizabethan history. Since I didn’t have the most solid understanding of Henry and his 500 wives (okay, six), it was difficult to tell exactly how contemporary they made the storyline.  Although the play isn’t meant to be an advanced history lesson, I’d say that the storyline is most gripping if you have some knowledge of 16th century history. Hennig’s script is bursting with golden sub-text that begs to be heard, in modern-day language, might I add. Perhaps the reason why the play had such an effect on me was because of the remarkable timing. I was feeling helpless that day because of the current inconceivable fragility of women’s rights in our neighbouring country, and Kate demonstrated a hero that I want to channel in the impending months of rallying and protest for the rights of American women. Though Maev Beaty embodied this ruthless character excellently, the stop-and-start motion of the play left me feeling disconnected from her character’s heart. I had an easier time connecting with the emotional depths of the other characters, even Joseph Ziegler’s. He’s witty in an offensively outspoken kind of way, leaving absolutely nothing open to interpretation. That’s not to say I didn’t grasp Kate’s message. I did, and it was moving. With minute costume changes, quick set changes, and a very small chain of characters, the play was rooted deeply in communicating a stripped down, big-picture message. The impact still resonates within me sincerely, and sadly the issue presented isn’t one that we can take as just a piece of history. This is happening now. Patriarchy is sturdily in place, and we need to work hard, like Kate did. The Last Wife runs until Feb. 11 at Soul Pepper Theatre.

By: Daniela Sosa-Roque I have never been a thin girl and it’s fair to say that I’ve always been a couple of pounds overweight.   I think it was around fifth grade when I really became aware of my body. I was born in Cuba and I consider my latinx identity to be major part of who I am. In Latin-American cultures the word fat is casually thrown around and it’s not uncommon to refer to people as fat or skinny. Growing up I was used to being called fat. As a little girl I remember how much being called gordita (chubby or fat) triggered me, because I knew what being fat implied. To me, being fat meant I was unattractive. The characterization of the latinx also had a strong influence in determining how I looked at my body. The latinx is perfectly constructed for the male gaze, she is the epitome of sexy. She has a voluptuous “hourglass” figure that short skin-tight dresses cling to. She has a small waist and wide hips, curves in all the right places. She has big boobs and long sculpted legs. Her hair isn’t an unruly mane of curls: it’s wavy and silky. Her skin is the colour of café con leche, she’s not light or dark but right in between. The other half of the stereotype is the idea that latinxs are hypersexual, promiscuous and have fiery, passionate personalities. While there’s nothing wrong with a woman owning her sexuality, this stereotype often suggests that a latinx’s agency and value only stems from her sex appeal. This inaccurate portrait is a harmful myth perpetuated by pop culture. It was also highly problematic for me as a latinx that didn’t quite fit this mold. What about the latinxs whose shoulders are broader than their hips? What about the latinxs with pelo malo (bad hair), whose tight curls and kinks can’t be tamed with combs? What about the ones that don’t have small waists and don’t exude sex and confidence? Growing up I felt like there was a particular set of expectations I had to meet because I was latinx. However, trying to conform to this ideal was like attempting to squeeze into a dress that I didn’t fit into, yet desperately wanted to. Obtaining the “latinx figure” and meeting those standards - fitting into the dress - meant I could be beautiful. Sometimes I felt like I even took up too much space. I wanted to be smaller, thinner and more petite. I began consciously and instinctively monitoring my posture. I would sit up straight and rigid, so my stomach wouldn’t fold. Despite only being a few pounds overweight, I often found myself feeling disgusted when I looked at my body. I couldn’t look at myself in the mirror without picking out every flaw. I would pinch my belly or thigh and think, “If you just lost this and this and this…you would be perfect.” The little voice that reminded me I’m not supposed to have that extra bit of fat on my tummy and thighs was impossible to block out. I wanted to reclaim and love my body, but how was I supposed to do that when it seemed that everywhere I looked, there were thousands of reasons to hate it? Being a latinx trying to find peace and acceptance in my appearance also made me question if fat and sexy could coexist, even if sexy excludes everything that fat implies. Sexy can’t be cellulite, stretch marks, tummy rolls and love handles...right? The idea that sexy has to tick off all these boxes leaves out a whole range of women. In particular, women that think that they can’t be sexy because their tummies aren’t flat or their bodies have cellulite. All women come in a diverse range of shapes and sizes and insisting that a group of women should look a certain way neglects different body types. The solution to the misrepresentation of latinxs is to challenge it with more diverse representations in the media. The voices that demand we change to fit these unrealistic standards are loud, but the voices that ask us to accept ourselves regardless of our body shapes and sizes must be louder. The voices of self-love and acceptance need to begin within us first. It’s a long process, but loving your body and being happy in your own skin requires allowing yourself time to heal. It’s not easy and it’s still uncomfortable for me at times, but recovery from suffering with an unhealthy body image shouldn’t be easy and it definitely shouldn’t be comfortable. I am a latinx and I happily reject the unrealistic and oppressive beauty standards that have made me feel like I’m not enough.

By: Karen Sandoval-Santana Artists, academics and activists were invited to attend the Feminist Art Conference to examine feminist issues through art. The theme this year was Embodied Resistance. This comes from the notion that the human body can be treated as a site of resistance to the power structures of patriarchy, says Ilene Sova, the organizer of the FAC. McClung’s caught up with some of the artists. Shirley Siegal and Hadieh Afshani:  [caption id="attachment_5010" align="alignnone" width="1616"] Shirley Siegal and Hadieh Afshani[/caption] Hadieh Afshani and Shirley Siegal met as competitors at an art competition in New York last year. They were both finalists and became friends after their works were displayed beside each other. Afshani is an Iranian born fine artist and Siegal is an Israeli artist, archaeologist and lecturer. Both women believe that feminism is missing in the Middle East. Their piece: [gallery ids="5008,5009" type="rectangular"] Their installation, The First Supper, features two pieces of tablecloth created in different countries. Afshani and Siegal had the unique challenge of not being able to collaborate face-to-face. They would Skype to see each other’s progress. Inspiration came from the hope for a more peaceful future for those living in Middle Eastern countries. Siegal made her piece in Israel, Afshani made hers in America. They stitched their parts together when they met. Afshani and Siegal also believe in the power of women in politics. The plates on the dining table have portraits of influential and inspiring women from the Middle East and elsewhere painted on them. “The dining table has always been the territory of women, to bring family and friends together,” says Afshani. “It doesn’t matter how much they disagree with each other: this is the peace zone.” Carol Mark: Carol Mark’s upbringing taught her a lot about women’s rights. She was taught that baby girls weren’t worth as much as boys and growing up she knew she wanted to make a change. Mark sat on a committee regarding the status of women 20 years ago that discussed how police should deal with rape cases in the future. Mark says she was shocked when the Ghomeshi case ended and he was found not guilty on all charges. This inspired her to do some digging into OCAD’s own sexual assault policy. She found out at the time OCAD didn’t have a policy for dealing with sexual assault. Mark says that schools should be aware that this is a procedure they have to implement. She says that victims don’t always get justice but stresses that victims should bravely speak up because somewhere there will be support. “We need to come together,” she says. “We need to form unity and that’s what feminism means to me.” Her piece: [caption id="attachment_5005" align="alignnone" width="1563"] Carol Mark's art piece for the Feminist Art Conference.[/caption] “Corsets haven’t been used in years. They deform your body but they are used as sexual instruments,” says Mark. On one hand they’re enticing but corsets also represent the breaking of women. Wendy Pope and Sussan Thompson: [caption id="attachment_5007" align="alignnone" width="1599"] Wendy Pope stands in front of her installation.[/caption] Wendy Pope has been studying the Kabbalah for over 15 years. The Kabbalah is an ancient framework that studies how to receive lifelong fulfillment. Herself and partner Sussan Thompson wanted their piece in the FAC to enhance the work that they’re doing with their meditation. Their piece: [caption id="attachment_5006" align="alignnone" width="1445"] The Tree of Life[/caption] Pope and Thompson wanted to undertake a spiritual journey through art. Their installation is a mixed media representation of the Tree of Life. All that exists can find its place in the tree, all ideas and beliefs. Through her art Pope wants to embrace diversity and ditch competition. She says culture has flexibility and the patriarchal system does not. “If you can work with others; everything expands, the basket just gets bigger,” she says. “There’s more room in it and we don’t have to compete for space.”

— McClung's Magazine (@mcclungs) January 21, 2017

Please note: all positions are unpaid. Hi there, I'm Lisa the new Editor-In-Chief for McClung's. I can't wait to get going with the magazine but to do that I need a great masthead. *general meeting TBA For the Winter 2017 issue we are hiring: *Position descriptions and application form attatched below all the type. –  Head of Research –  Head of Copy –  Handling Editors –  Writers –  Copy Editors –  Fact Checkers –  Bloggers –  Art Director –  Assistant Art Director –  Photo Director –  Assistant Photo Director –  Photographers –  Illustrators/Artists –  Advertising and Circulation Director –  Marketing and Promotions Director Position descriptions:  mcclung_s-winter2017-job-descriptions-1 Application form: mcclungs-winter2017-application-form-1 Please don't hesitate to contact me (Lisa) at [email protected] if you have any questions! Applications are due January 13th at 11:59 p.m.

The ideal candidates have excellent time management and organization skills, the desire to mentor fellow students, a keen eye for detail and design, strong journalistic ethics, and excellent writing and editing abilities. While it is helpful to have taken magazine courses, it is not a requirement. Please email us a resume, cover letter and a few digital clippings to [email protected]. Please also include why you think you’re the perfect candidate for the position and any ideas you have for next year’s issues (including story ideas, management, circulation and fundraising ideas). Please put “EIC application” in the subject line. The deadline is Friday, December 16, 2016. Feel free to contact us if you have any additional questions. Please note this is an unpaid position. Thank you for your interest and support. Ophelie Zalcmanis-Lai Editor-in-Chief (Winter 2016 issue) McClung’s Magazine http://www.mcclungs.ca

By Melissa Tobin In the first installment of the newest publication from Stranger Comics, Niobe bursts onto the page, running from a past that is only hinted at through the rest of the chapter. In the press release by Stranger Comics, she is described as an “orphaned wild elf teenager and also the would-be savior of the vast and volatile fantasy world of Asunda.” Not much else is explicitly revealed in the first chapter, but plot points are hinted at subtly and slyly, with the reader being expected to do much of the work in navigating the politics of the world Niobe comes from. It makes for an exciting first reading experience, as the reader endeavors to comprehend the dangers and powers that Niobe confronts right alongside the title character. Written by Sebastian A. Jones and Amandla Stenberg, with stunning illustrations done by Ashley A. Woods, Niobe seems to be a game changer in the world of comic books that usually revolve around a singular white male hero. The women in those comics are mostly seen either as damsels in distress or as ladyloves with minimally developed characters and a penchant for breathy exclamations of worry. Comics have slowly been recognizing the need for strong, complicated female characters, and as a result are finally acknowledging their huge female reader base. However, Niobe: She is Life is immediately recognizable as different in its explicit reference to issues of race and feminist themes, causes which are close to Stenberg’s heart and have been treated gingerly in the past by the writers of mainstream comics. As a woman of colour, and half-elf, half-human, Niobe combats institutionalized racism and also effectively subverts misogynistic expectations expressed towards her by other characters with impressive aplomb. The inclusion of politically-charged issues encourages a more nuanced interpretation of the events taking place within the comic, resulting in a more socially-aware reader at the end of it. A comic book would be nothing without its art, and the illustrations here do not disappoint. The narrative flows between water, cave, and jungle landscapes, allowing for an enjoyable first read and, if the reader should choose to do so, an appreciative re-read. The inclusion of small details, like a character reaching out and leaving the confines of her gutters on the page, or the parallels made between a certain goddess and a glowing dragonfly, are like breadcrumbs left for the reader to devour and interpret as they will. Without revealing too much, readers can expect to be immediately intrigued by Niobe, with the awareness that she has the capacity to be both good and evil at the same time. Jones and Stenberg have successfully managed to create a fully fleshed-out character that urges readers to enjoy the ambiguity of the story, whilst also getting lost in the fantastic world of Asunda.

By Julianne San Antonio Throughout the past decade, Meghan Tonjes has proven that she is a force to be reckoned with in the online music world. The 30-year-old YouTuber, singer-songwriter and musician first began uploading videos to her channel back in 2006 and has garnered over 22 million views and nearly 250,000 subscribers to date. Her talent has also been featured on PerezHilton.com and The Ellen DeGeneres Show. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nkbEHv55OjA Apart from her many covers and original songs, Tonjes also uses her voice to promote positive body image and self-confidence. One of her past initiatives include "Project Lifesize", a collaboration channel made for and by plus-sized women. In 2014, Instagram made a controversial error in removing one of Tonjes' photos showcasing her curves. This inspired Tonjes to create the #BootyRevolution movement on the platform to celebrate women of all shapes and sizes. In the video below, McClung's Magazine's online editor, Julianne San Antonio, sits down with the YouTuber to discuss the evolution of these online campaigns as well as the success of her music career. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jQ5Aokqu7FY

DISCLAIMER: The following review contains graphic imagery that some readers may find disturbing. [caption id="attachment_4799" align="alignnone" width="1183"] (Image Credit: William Burdett-Coutts)[/caption] By Lisa Cumming Floods of tears outnumbered and overwhelmed the audience's tissues as the curtain closed on the final scene of Nirbhaya. Saying this production is emotional simply does not do it justice. Nirbhaya transcends the boundaries of the stage and embeds itself so deeply in your own heart; it feels almost as if a knife is ripping through the layers of discipline you have around coming apart at the seams in public. The play is 90 minutes long and has no intermission but don’t expect to want one. The play, written and directed by Yaël Farber, is a literary nonfiction re-enactment of the vicious gang rape of Jyoti Singh Pandey on a bus in New Delhi on December 16, 2012. Pandey, portrayed by Japjit Kaur, was travelling with a male friend on a private bus in New Delhi when they were attacked. The man was beaten with a metal rod and eventually thrown off the bus with Pandey. The assailants proceeded to savagely rape and beat Pandey for six hours. The list of vile assaults on her includes forceful penetration with a metal rod, enough so to rip out her intestines. In the beginning of the play, six figures emerge from the audience hands raised in solidarity for Pandey, or as she is most famously called “Nirbhaya”. The name, meaning fearless, has its origins in the Sanskrit language and was given to Pandey as she lay slowly dying in a hospital bed for thirteen days after the attack. [caption id="attachment_4802" align="alignnone" width="1008"] (Image Credit: Sinbad Phgura)[/caption] Nirbhaya feature six actors – five women (Priyanka Bose, Poorna Jagannathan, Sneha Jawale, Rukhsar Kabir, and Pamela Mala Sinha) and one man (Ankur Vikal). The storytelling of that abominable night is also combined with the five actresses’ own personal experiences of sexual violence. These women are my heroines. The stage looks like the site of a sanctified ritual with billows of smoke pouring in from stage left and right and the scent of incense hanging in the air. The five women previously mentioned allow the audience to visualize their stories through the use of commonplace objects - a boy’s blue shirt, a child’s yellow dress, a pink sheet - but in the hands of the actresses these objects turn into talismans. The objects become symbolic of what has been lost, stolen and forgotten. Farber’s play honours Pandey’s life and legacy by not letting her flame die. The actresses who so bravely share a piece of their heart night after night walk with Pandey even in her afterlife. By sharing her story and theirs, they are refusing to be silenced by those who try to smother their souls and fire. The standing ovation received at the end of the show was well deserved. [caption id="attachment_4805" align="alignnone" width="960"] (Image Credit: William Burdett-Coutts)[/caption] The topics covered in Nirbhaya, including violence against women, are ones that everyone should have the privilege of being educated on. Ignoring the facts, refusing to listen to victims of sexual violence, and being a bystander is committing yourself to being a perpetrator of this endemic. Too often stories like Pandey’s are forgotten and lost in the media after a certain period of time has passed. Farber, by creating this play, has ensured that we as a collective global society keep an open discussion on the implications of the brutality that was inflicted on two innocent human beings.

By Dan Darrah “People who used to call me a freak are a lot more tame now.” Raeanna Rees was initiated into the Toronto hardcore-punk scene at the now-defunct Siesta-Nouveaux, which she felt was – at one time – a “punk utopia.” But the fervent 23-year-old concedes that it didn’t end up shedding the “big bro party” she had come to know at her home scene of St. Catharines. “You enter a room for a couple hours to try to get away from that, and somehow there’s still men pulling you out of the pit, slurs are being used, and again, there’s some sort of power struggle.” But the Toronto scene is in a state of transition, she says, noting that people are increasingly watching the language they use. “Maybe they don’t want their bands to get on,” she says, “or maybe they actually understand how problematic their language can be.” The Toronto scene stretches across the megacity’s east and west ends as well as the downtown core – from Queen Street West, to Davenport, to the Annex and beyond – and encapsulates an organic mix of young punk bands like VCR, traditional-style hardcore like Ancient Heads and more aggressive groups like Ransom. Though very different in their approaches to alternative music, the overlap between the three types of groups denotes a diverse space for those espousing an “against-the-grain” ethos. Rees says she feels represented within the scene through the women and queer people “making their presence known,” which she contends is difficult for her to do being timid and quiet. “Being strong must be exhausting,” she says. But her timidness should not be interpreted as apathy: as the scene reaches a point of greater inclusion and begins to own its title as a safe space, Rees has recommendations on how it can do better. She comments that privilege – especially of “people we know and love” – is a catalyst. Addressing it means correcting the behaviour and language usage of showgoers, and doing so is simply a “responsibility” to help them “grow and become stronger.” She suggests reaching out to people of colour, women, and non-binary peoples and encouraging them to start or join bands, aiding them as well by sharing equipment. The normal world has “hegemonic” traits that are projected in the scene, which bring things “to be learned and to be unlearned.” Of the things to be learned, she says, is that low-wage work, capitalism, and mainstream society at-large all, “effect people in different ways,” noting that she “thinks a lot of people forget that.” Remembering this is important when entering a place where people go to “escape” these experiences for a few hours out of a night. Many of those hours in the last year have been spent at S.H.I.B.G.B’s, a small basement venue in Davenport, Toronto that has housed much of the changes described by Rees. Though only in its infancy, “Sheeb’s” – as it was often called - shut its doors for the last time last month despite its popularity and accolade as a progressive punk force. It was here that young bands with safe-space and positive stances, such as Toronto-based Triage and Mollot, cut their teeth. Erin Bond, another veteran of the St. Catharines hardcore scene, says that, “women are starting to take back punk and hardcore. It’s such an amazing feeling.” Bond reiterates Rees’ comments in saying that there are still discriminatory sentiments at Toronto shows. Being a cisgendered woman, she says, means that she hasn’t had a hard time feeling represented, but feels underrepresented “as a fat woman.” “I know of a few big femmes in my community and I love them and their existence,” she says, “but it’s very rare that you see us in bands or taking up space on stages.” Even hostility between women in the scene existed up until recently, which Bond attributes to “internalized misogyny.” But it has gradually shifted into a “huge community of people that love and support each other.” Bond agrees with Rees that recognizing privilege is key. One of the most important things is being able to “sit down and listen” to those underrepresented and even help brainstorm ideas to deal with issues as they arise. She also recommends that promoters make an effort to book shows at venues with safe-space policies in order because, “making sure that the people going to your shows feel comfortable is a pretty big thing.” Another voice discussing the feminist voice in Toronto hardcore is Karla Gonzalez, who grew up in Kansas City, moved to Victoria, B.C. in her mid-teens, and has recently settled in Toronto. In line with the scenes in other cities she’s lived, she says that women still lack representation on stage, despite oftentimes making up a huge portion of the crowd. As well, she has felt uncomfortable and “on guard” when bands have espoused macho-aggression or dropped the “p-slur” while performing. Gonzalez argues that with, “effort and thoughtfulness”, bands and audiences alike can shed these macho tendencies and create a safe space. In spite of this, she adds that there is still “camaraderie in every facet of the scene that stems from exclusion from social circles." “When I was first coming into the scene, I felt an inclusion I never felt before,” she says. Although there is a prominent and growing “minority presence” in Toronto hardcore, Gonzalez hasn’t personally met many who are also Hispanic, denoting a personal “disconnect” for her. Speaking to the resurgence of women and feminist issues in the scene, Gonzalez urges that it’s not trivial and, “more importantly, not leaving.” “It’s no longer – and never was – okay to use sexist slurs or to write off sexual harassment as “boys will be boys,” she says. Progression is “fluid,” Gonzalez concludes, noting that the newer social consciousness in the scene is not at a “peak” or stopping anytime soon. “We are going to be climbing this mountain forever,” she says. “But what that climb meant in 1994, 2006 and 2015 has varied.”