Twice now, I have been approached by anglophones (one who lives here in Montréal, one who lives in Toronto) asking me if I know where they can get some of those hip Québec separatist t-shirts and whatnot. I think it’s quite amusing, that people are (a) asking me, a fellow anglophone, where to find this stuff; (b) that anglophones think this stuff is somehow “funny” or “cute”, or perhaps more accurately, something that you can wear with a suitable air of hipster irony. Shirts with the FLQ Manifesto on them are the new Von Dutch, I guess. Considering how serious the situation was at one point, I think this change in attitude is fascinating.
I own two separatist items: One is a hoodie emblazoned with an image depicting Papineau. Sadly, I don’t think this item would have the effect my pals who asked for my fashion advice are looking for, since few seem to know who he is, particularly anglophones. I receive no reaction when I wear this hoodie. Why do I wear it, you ask? I wouldn’t wear it if I didn’t have more information on Papineau, so it forced me to do some research. Also, it serves as a reminder that violent unrest has occurred in Canada, something that we tend to forget, since currently we mostly act as peacekeepers in the world and keep our noses out of things like the war in Iraq.
The other item I own is a button that says “Je suis souverainiste” (I am a sovereigntist.) This was given to me as kind of a gag gift from a francophone, but the person who gave it to me picked it up at UQAM, where I currently go to school. I joke that this pin gets me better service in restaurants and to the front of queues, but really it just serves as another reminder, like the Papineau hoodie. The Papineau hoodie reminds me of the past and what happened at one time, historical facts that I should be mindful of; and the pin reminds me that to some extent, though “separatist chic” may exist, to the point where it’s funny and ironic for anglophones to wear items emblazoned with their logos and slogans, the dream of an independent Québec still exists and is all around me, at my school, in my largely francophone neighbourhood, and in the minds of some of the people I call friends.
Since moving here, I’ve been forced to observe that the reality of Canada as a bilingual nation may only exist in Montréal and Ottawa, and it’s a disappointment. One of my angriest moments since living here came when I passed on to my classmates a call for submissions from a gallery in Manitoba (a province that is home to a large francophone community, I might add) and had to apologetically introduce this call by saying the gallery would only accept their applications in English. I find this unacceptable from an institution that receives federal funding through the Canada Council, funding from a federal government that is supposed to ensure that linguistic equality is acheived throughout Canada. It becomes clear very quickly why culture from Québec is not properly circulated throughout Canada; it is our fault, not theirs. We don’t make it easy. Our country was founded by both the French and English and so we have adopted a dual-language policy; however there are many small, nearly invisible barriers, preventing us from understanding and appreciating each other.
Though the current young generation in Québec might insist to me privately that “…the separatist dream is over, because if it was going to happen, it would have happened back then [referring to past referendums and revolutions]”, I see why that dream remains alluring, given the massive cultural differences witnessed here (not only linguistic). I wear my hoodie and pin not because this is the next fashion wave (which, franchement!, I never would have been able to predict!) but because it’s important for me to remember the events that shaped the place where I’m living, and what it means for me to be an anglophone trying to “pass” in their culture. I’m still a guest here, for now, and I’m being treated very well, but maybe it’s because I wiped my feet before I came in. To tell the truth, I could still use some refining of my manners, I could still try harder, but in my own way I’m working on it. And frankly, we all could use a bit of charm school, or else history is doomed to repeat itself. Je me souviens.
8 replies on “Separatist Chic”
Howdy!
Next time you’re asked. send ’em to 82 Sherbrooke W. aka http://www.ssjb.com/
"in my own way I’m working on it"
amen
"the gallery would only accept their applications in English. I find this unacceptable from an institution that receives federal funding"
rock out sistah… so true.
As a westerner who’s been transplanted here long enough to sprout a "family in Longueuil" 🙂 (referring to your Super Bowl post), I appreciate and enjoyed reading your observations. While I agree with you about bilingualism, and wish it could be closer to the ideal, the one thing about "accepting" submissions is that there can be layers and nuance in language that no amount of well-intentioned translation will convey. From that point of view, the person submitting would be well-advised to provide their own translation. That way, at least they can verify that the intended meaning is reproduced in a satisfactory manner. I’m going to read more of your stuff and add a link to your blog!
~Is It Fictional or Is It Art?~
And don’t forget the bilingual Acadian community who fight to maintain their language and culture in the Maritimes
Does this say more about the state of Quebec politics, or the state of hipsters?….I’m not quite sure. Something interesting to ponder though.
I find your comment about being "an anglophone trying to "pass" in their culture" a bit irksome, however. I’m an anglo who grew up in montreal, and I don’t really feel as though I ever had to pass myself off as a "real" Quebecer. I think there are many different ways to fit in, and to feel at home here. But maybe you speak specifically of going to a french University?
Yes, I am speaking more specifically of trying to "pass" as an anglo at a franco university. I think if I hadn’t chose UQAM, it would have been a completely different experience for me here. "Trying to pass" sounds so negative, but actually attempting to achieve some sort of cultural assimilation is not negative at all – there is something really special about being present and becoming well-versed in the culture of others. … perhaps I should have used different words, that would have more accurately conveyed how privileged I actually feel that I inserted myself in a situation where I am in the heart of another culture and can both observe and take part.
this comment thread got me thinking and feeling. I am a born-Montrealer. I went to CEGEP and University in Montreal. I was a kid when Rene Levesque came to power and the whole city suddenly became French. The city I thought I belonged in was suddenly seemingly hostile to my existence, and my mother tongue became pariah.
I did French immersion in elementary school, in high school I was always in advanced French. I can say I spoke French pretty well when I left school only to be treated like TISH if ever I wandered out of the circumscribed Anglo areas into a local dep, because I didn’t speak joual.
I left, like a lot of born Anglo Montrealers, not to Toronto but abroad to Europe. Montreal was experiencing an influx of Anglos, at that time, in the late 90s, from the R.O.C. (rest of Canada). These people now constitute a good 50% of Anglo culture in Montreal. These ROCians tend to be very deferential to the French fact in Quebec. For them, I feel, it’s kind of like moving to France, exotic and fascinating and pretty well innocuous.
Separatist chic may be funny now, but it certainly is nothing to celebrate. Another manipulative political movement as self-serving and short-sighted as any, which caused an exodus of I don’t know how many tens or hundreds of thousands of Anglos, disrupting and splitting families and casting a dreary shadow over much of my youth.
Just as a footnote. Jews were not permitted to enter Catholic Schools in Quebec during my parents’ generation, therefore they had no choice but to be educated in English. The fact that I, as 3rd generation of Polish-Ukranian Jewish Canadians, speak English is the result of racial intolerance. The song remains the same, and we have the same challenges today as we ever had trying to be accepted in the land of our birth.
with all due respect, je me souviens too, and it ain’t all fries cheese & gravy.