Glitter Diaries: Identity Crisis
A few weeks back, I posted about my incredible experience and moment of clarity in Canadian cottage country (here and here), however, I left out one part of it that, although was not meant to be condescending/offensive in nature, ended up bothering me a bit.
Our gracious host, my colleague and our secretary at work, was entertained and uplifted by my genuine excitement and awestruck reaction upon experiencing my first-ever cottage. As I was gazing out the large sliding doors onto the lake that her cottage overlooked, and took in the setting evening sun, in a very motherly manner (her oldest daughter is only 2 years younger than me) she gave me a hug and a kiss on my cheek, and said: "How amazing it must be for you, a Vietnamese girl, with your parents' incredible journey from Vietnam to Canada, to experience this." Of course, she meant this in the most affectionate way, and she had previously told me just how much she admired my parents for what they went through to come here to Canada, but the statement didn't sit well with me.
My colleague's words brought me back to three distinct occasions where my legitimate claim to being Canadian was questioned.
One
In the 9th grade (2002-2003), I was enrolled at the Ottawa School of Speech and Drama for some kind of acting course (I had expressed an interest in acting to my parents in the 8th grade after receiving a starring role opposite my middle school crush in drama class). It was a class for teenagers, and on one particular evening during class, there was one particular boy whose comments made my blood boil. I cannot even recall what had brought on the discussion, but the issue of me being considered "Canadian" came up. It must be noted that I was the only Asian (the usual token one in any kind of extracurricular activity that involved the arts) enrolled in this class.
This boy's claim was that I wasn't truly Canadian, or that I was not as Canadian as others because my parents were born in Vietnam. His grandparents were Jews (I forget from which European country) that arrived to Canada during the Second World War, and he was therefore more Canadian than me. I then challenged him by asking if/when I were/am to have children, would they be as "Canadian" as he is? His answer was still no. At the end of the ridiculous, and truly ignorant conversation, I concluded that I was just sitting next to someone who was discriminating against me simply because I didn't fit the look of a "Canadian" in his eyes (re: I am not Caucasian).
This boy's claim was that I wasn't truly Canadian, or that I was not as Canadian as others because my parents were born in Vietnam. His grandparents were Jews (I forget from which European country) that arrived to Canada during the Second World War, and he was therefore more Canadian than me. I then challenged him by asking if/when I were/am to have children, would they be as "Canadian" as he is? His answer was still no. At the end of the ridiculous, and truly ignorant conversation, I concluded that I was just sitting next to someone who was discriminating against me simply because I didn't fit the look of a "Canadian" in his eyes (re: I am not Caucasian).
Two
In the 11th grade, I had a male teacher for my English course. I distinctly remember this man because male teachers were scarce, and for the life of me, no matter how hard I worked or tried, he never gave me an A, on any of my assignments/papers (I was used to getting straight A's and being adored by all of my teachers). I can remember exactly one paper that I got back from him with comments/notes that baffled, and offended me. We had been assigned to write something from the perspective of a World War II soldier, from any side. I had chosen to write a piece from the position of a Canadian soldier fighting for the Allies, stuck in the horrible trenches, writing home to his loved ones. The comment my English teacher wrote on my paper after marking it was that he was impressed a Vietnamese girl could compose a letter so convincingly well from the point of view of a Canadian soldier...
My thoughts were: Umm... I could picture and fathom what fighting from the trenches of Dieppe was like as well as any other student educated in the Canadian school system. I mean, neither of us (the teacher and I) had even been alive at the time of the Second World War... So my ability of writing from this perspective was, of course, going to be good as his because, you know, I'm kind of Canadian, too, or so I had thought.
Three
Walking downtown on Elgin St. in Ottawa one day in my early 20's, I was approached by a foreigner (I say this because he spoke with a very heavy foreign accent), and asked where I came from. I very proudly and without hesitation told him: "I am from here, Ottawa." He refused to accept my answer and very rudely continued to repeat the question over and over again. To which I kept replying "I am from HERE." Finally, frustrated, he changed his question: "Where are your parents from?" I then answered: "My parents came from Vietnam." He then concluded that I had been lying and that I wasn't from here as I had said, but that I was from Vietnam...
Apparently, being born and raised in Canada doesn't also make me from Canada...
I truly feel that I suffer from some kind of identity crisis, and I cannot say that this crisis is completely self-inflicted. I am sure of my being Canadian, I am also sure that my parents come from Vietnam and my grandparents come from China. I know these facts. I accept, myself, that I am a Canadian who has roots in Vietnam and China, however, no matter where I go, this certainty is somehow almost always challenged.
When I was in Vietnam in 2003 with my mother and sister, I wasn't accepted because I certainly looked and acted like a Westerner. Here in Canada, my own Asian friends that I grew up and went to school with consider me to be "white-washed" because of the way that I "act" (not true -- I love my nuoc mam pha and I cannot survive without rice). On either side of the situation (1) I am Asian, and not Canadian, or (2) I am too Westernised to be a "true asian", I cannot find a balance. I find it disheartening that these two sides cannot be reconciled. I can't even imagine what the experience of defining one's "identity" must be like for actual mixed-race people (my future children being grouped into this bunch), and I can only hope and wish for a different society for my (currently hypothetical) mixed-race (Asian-Caucasian mix) offspring to be raised in and to grow up in.
You know what? It's crazy how these labels even matter. Of course we all want to identify with somewhere - where we belong/where we come from, but so many of us are a mix of many different nationalities. My grandparents came from Germany and Ireland, and on the other side way back came from France. But even still, I'm Canadian, not European.
ReplyDeleteI guess it's naive of me to believe that being Canadian means your roots can be from anywhere, but you can still be perceived as Canadian. I see here that it's not entirely true. But if you have citizenship, if you were born here or were raised here, you should be able to embrace the fact that you're Canadian. It shouldn't come with a particular "look" because we have so many different nationalities here. I guess, unfortunately, to some people it does :(
Sorry about the book I just wrote. Also I'm sorry that these people have said these things to you. It's not fair, because you have no reason to be questioned. You were from here. End of story.
I really appreciate that you took the time to even read my novel of a post! Lol. I agree with you, Kelly. Why do labels even matter! I was just as naive of you when I assumed that being Canadian means that we are a country full of diverse cultures and backgrounds. It is not often that I get challenged on my nationality though, and then there are wonderful people like you who understand and can sympathise. I am proud to be Canadian because there are amazing people like you who live here too :)
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