Bonjour-Hi! I was born and raised in Montreal. But I don’t quite belong.
Here’s a story that may resonate with many first-generation immigrants. We may be born in Canada, but because our parents weren’t, we’re not considered bona fide Canadians, and our ethnic upbringing does little to wean us as such. We’re raised with pride for our heritage and develop everlasting patriotism — for our parents’ country of origin. We’re the quasi Canadians, well aware that with every passing generation, we become, well, more Canadian. But even so, one’s roots are not easily forgotten, if ever. Cultural indoctrination has proven its permanency.
So why is it that in a seemingly open-minded city where I’m free to live true to my heritage, I often feel like I don’t belong?
I was born in the late ’70s to Greek parents in Montreal, Quebec. My parents settled here in the mid-’60s. They’d planned on staying for 5 years but stayed for more than 50 (and it’s surely not because they couldn’t resist the good weather). They spent most of their life in this city because it became their home. My late mother always said that she had two motherlands: the one where she was born and lived as a young girl, and the other where she grew and lived as a grown woman. My father still stands by their decision to move here, though wishes they’d retired there (something to do with the weather, again).
While my parents faced many challenges and weren’t always greeted with a welcoming smile, I’d like to center this piece on some of my reflections on being raised Greek in a French Canadian province.
Like most immigrants, my parents held on tight to their traditions. As they began to settle into the city, ex-pats came together and gave rise to Greek media, educational, social, and religious institutions. And of course, they introduced Montrealers to Greek food.
Us kids, we inevitably made friends with our kind and upheld such a strong sense of community so immersive that our “Xeni” (foreign) friends would eventually “turn Greek” and become all too familiarized with our way of life. We’d speak English amongst ourselves (sometimes Greek), but Greek with our parents (sometimes English). And if not every year, every other year, as kids, many of us spent our summers off at our respective parents’ birthplace, “back home” in Greece, visiting our grandparents. As adults, many of us still make it a point to return and often. And we still unreservedly boast about our beautiful motherland.
While my parents made sure I spoke Greek fluently and knew my roots well, they were adamant about me learning to speak French, as “this was the language of the future in Quebec” my mother would counsel. So when I was 7, she pulled me out of the Greek educational system asserting that their French curriculum wasn’t sufficiently robust, and instead put me in an all-french school, where I experienced major culture shock. And to accelerate my learning (along with my shock), she also signed me up for French swimming lessons, French scouts, and French camp. Oh, and I was only allowed French tv and was to speak to my big sister exclusively in French, for a whole year. As you gather, she lent high importance to the French language, and I in turn learned to speak it fluently, and also to eventually forgive my mother for her militant (but in the end effective) ways.
Now — while I love speaking in French — I find myself consciously choosing to say hello rather than bonjour. Largely because I feel we’ve taken the language policing too far. For this, I direct my disappointment to the Office Québécois de la langue Française (OQLF) whose efforts may be well-intentioned but I feel are misplaced. And the Coalition Avenir Québec’s recent decision to inject funds into the OQLF especially during a pandemic while we’re literally fighting for our lives is a bitter reminder of the powerful provincialism we’re regularly faced with. It’s no longer about speaking French, it’s become about not speaking English. And to then have the minister responsible for the French language in Quebec say that this “is not against English institutions,” and “we can do both — respect English institutions but also respect French in our society” is playing offense.
Without making this article about the laws of the OQLF, it will suffice to say that the laws along with the board were created out of fear that the French language would go extinct in Quebec. That said, it’s important to note that the French hold a majority in Quebec. But their concern with having their heritage eclipsed, nods to the anglophone/allophone influential minority. Also to consider is that Quebec (begrudgingly to some) is in Canada, where anglophones are of majority. Naturally, in came the language laws with the mission to protect the French language in a primarily English-speaking nation. It’s only natural to want to secure your kind and colony.
For those of you that don’t live here, I want to clarify: No one will arrest or fine you for speaking in whatever language you wish amongst your friends and family. It’s when you seek to operate professionally — as an employee or business owner — , and seek service of any kind that things get sticky. Businesses are subjected to fines if they don’t abide by the language rules. And people are subjected to discrimination, plain and simple. French fanatics will not literally convict you, cuff you, and lock you up for not speaking French, it just feels that way.
I believe it is moot point to argue historical events and statistics in an attempt to prove or disprove the language laws, because in the end what matters most is people’s current state of mind and wellbeing. And if Black Lives Matter has taught us anything, it’s that history often needs a rethink, and room for redemption. With that in mind, our elected leaders and citizens of this province should be asking themselves “how do yesteryear laws continue to serve us?”
I understand that the French want to maintain their heritage in Quebec — it’s really the same for everyone settling onto any land. But I feel our Provincial government is stirring up a storm only to later justify its self-serving plebiscite.
If their true intent is to segregate the citizens of this province, I suspect that things will worsen with time and anglophones/allophones will eventually protest and march with #OurVoiceMatters banners in hand.
Some of my Francophone friends that are here fresh from France complain of being picked on for their accent. Some anglo/allophone friends often cope with disapproving glares for speaking in their mother tongue. And some of my pure laine friends think anglos are arrogant and dismissive of Quebec language and culture. If none of this resonates with you and you feel that there’s no race problem in Quebec, you’re likely part of the problem.
I remember wishing a francophone a happy Canada day (in French) and being met with a dry “I don’t celebrate that” as she handed me the flowers I’d just purchased from her shop at the Atwater market. And such racist and discriminatory occurrences are constant in everyday life here. Especially online where you’ll find no shortage of Anglophones complaining about some language-related fines, and Francophones coming to the OQLF’s defense, leaving low-brow remarks ordering anglos to pack up and leave if they don’t like it.
Here’s the thing, as a first-generation immigrant, I can assure you that just because I speak the French language doesn’t mean that I’ve given French-Quebec culture a voice.
If I was born to Greek parents in Montreal, QC, Canada, what is my country of origin?
My name is a dead giveaway of my ethnic background. When I’m asked where I’m from, I’m reminded of the struggle between being born somewhere but *really* originally being from somewhere else.
Being born in Quebec doesn’t make me a Québecoise any more than being born at the Jewish general hospital doesn’t make me Jewish.
Ironically, in Greece, I’m called a foreigner. Growing up Greek in Montreal, is not the same as growing up Greek in Greece. Goes to show how culture unavoidably breeds bias and immigration ushers it along.
Consider the saying “when in Rome, do as the Romans do”
So when in Quebec, do as…whom?
Think of the last time you traveled and how you were absorbed by the culture and became enchanted with their way of life. Now consider someone traveling here. What are they absorbing and experiencing?
Most say they love our multicultural vibe. And this perhaps defines Quebec culture — our hodgepodge of many cultures. And so making sure everyone speaks French or else, does very little to raise and cultivate the French-Quebec culture. Hence SNL’s latest ‘bonjour-hi’ skit, a spoof that caused upset amongst Quebecers especially francophones, that Bowen Yang issued an “apology” for missing the mark.
Many are unacquainted with Quebec heritage and culture because its people are preocupied with language correction, instead of cultural connection.
I humbly suggest they stop staring at the tree and instead take notice of the forest. Culture is more than language. It takes a lot more to maintain heritage and identity. This language battle only speaks to cultural impotence. Ask any immigrant who has no language charters and laws in place to secure their language and identity, but still has managed to preserve them. A powerful culture speaks for itself, in whatever language it chooses and its pull is so great, that you don’t resist. So instead of focusing on condemning each other for our differences, let’s start exploring how those differences make us fundamentally the same. What binds us will bond us.
I propose we start with the following statement.
#JeSuisQuebecois(e)Parceque…?
