The problem I have with multiculturalism is the strict and steadfast adherence of preserving cultural identities (through taxpayer funding) at the expense of forging a unified, albeit elusive and confusing,  national Canadian identity.

I much rather prefer a pluralist society free of state intervention where citizens are the driving force. And yes, there’s a difference between pluralism and multiculturalism. Creating a “community of communities” organically from a grass roots level is far more meaningful than legislating culture through a bureaucratic hand. But that’s just me. I’m a sucker for power residing in the sovereign individual. Lost concepts of a time…aw forget it.

Of course, thinkers, politicians and people alike have been divided about multiculturalism since it was made a policy in 1971 (and inserted into the Charter of Rights and Freedoms in Section 27) by the Liberal party.

Lire le reste de cet article ››

The other day on the bus an old man asked me if I was Italian, even without knowing my name, which often misleads people into thinking I am Italian.  When I said no, he went through a list.

Greek?  No.

French?  No.

Portuguese?  No.

I always get a little uncomfortable when people ask me my ethnicity because I don’t know the answer.  I admit, as a garden-variety WASP Canadian it’s not a question I get a lot, since the unfortunate reality is that ethnicity in this country is so often defined by otherness from the white norm.  Every once in a while, though, someone asks me my “background,” meaning where am I from in the Old Country.  When I say I’m simply a Newfoundlander and/or a Canadian, it’s never enough: it’s as though I’m being arrogant for assuming that I’m Canadian while people who arrived here more recently are not.  I don’t think that at all: I just don’t know anything about my family’s history before this continent, and there are few, if any, records to shed some light on the matter.  So I give people the only information I know: that my family is traceable in one line back to Scotland.  Three brothers moved to Newfoundland – then its own country – not Canada, in 1873.

I’ve since spent several months in Scotland and if that’s supposed to be my “home country” then I feel exceptionally foreign there.  True, I look like I fit in, but I don’t sound like I do, and I am extremely put out by the lack of good coffee there and deep-fried mushrooms on my breakfast plate.  I never felt like such a Canadian as when I was in Scotland: I was desperately homesick for my adopted home of Montreal in a way I wasn’t when I visited other places.  I also resented paying the equivalent of $8 for a falafel.

Funny thing is, two generations ago, my family wasn’t Canadian: they were living in the British Colonies, in Newfoundland, and flying the Union Jack (not the Pink, White, and Green, as those on the Avalon Peninsula of the island would have it).  My grandmother was pregnant with my father when Newfoundland became part of Canada.  It was like a collective immigration, except Canada came to us.  Before then (and after) my grandparents worked hard to support their large families: the men spending the winters weaving fishing nets; the springs on ice floes for the seal hunt; and the summers fishing and catching lobsters; the women gutting and cleaning fish and game, cooking, cleaning, and tending to multiple children.  There are little to no genealogical records because who bothered to keep track of the poor?  That and there are all sorts of children of unknown parentage because of the need to stay silent about straying from the marital bed, or jumping into bed before marriage.

As a consequence of this mysterious past, I have often envied those who can neatly say they are something-hypen-Canadian.  Increasingly now, though, few people can simply define their identity with just two tiers.  We need to imbue the term “Canadian” with richer diversity or come up with a new term that acknowledges that Canadians are increasingly citizens of the world.  The next time someone asks me my ethnicity, I might say “hodgepodge” and see what kind of response I get.

Vancouverite Grace Park as Boomer on Battlestar Gallactica

Vancouver Special - ubiquitous architectural style of home favoured by new Canadians that has become a signature feature of the landscape of the Lower Mainland.

Toronto may have the largest population of Korean Canadians, but Vancouver’s enjoying the greatest population increase of Korean immigrants in Canada. So what does this mean for Vancouver? Well, let’s see… besides the beautiful women (think Sandra Oh, Grace Park, Annie Lee) who’ve called the city home, enriched cultural diversity and the cool fashion sense of visiting Korean students attracted by Vancouver’s thriving Korean community, there’s also Koreatown. Popular with visiting students, Korean Canadian downtown residents and tourists, Koreatown has transformed the landscape of Vancouver’s famous Robson Street. Once the shopping is over for the day, the nightlife picks up in the bars and restaurants in Koreatown. While most Korean Canadians in the Lower Mainland live in the burbs, young people often head to Robson Street in the city’s busy West End for some weekend mingling with the student/tourist set.

But not everyone is so keen to hoof it into the West End for a good food and company. While Koreatown is home to some great restaurants, there’s amazing Korean food to found all over the Lower Mainland. A Korean Canadian friend of mine (or ‘KC’ as we decided to call her because it sounds funny) swears Insadong in Coquitlam will change my life. I told her I’d consider making it my New Years resolution to leave ‘the city’ and brave the half hour SkyTrain ride out for such a highly recommended life event. Sensing my tunnel vision on the food thing, KC pointed out that while for her and her family food is practically a religion, religion is also a…religion. This surprised me as KC didn’t strike me as particularly devout. She explained that she attends Christian services primarily for her parents and to socialize with other people in the Korean Canadian community. She informed me that church is a good place for recent immigrants to touch base with others who’ve been here longer. That and apparently it’s also a great place to catch up on gossip from ‘back home’. I asked her if she considers Korea or Canada home and she answered “Here, Canada,’ without missing a beat. When I asked her if she’d ever move back she said that while she likes to visit family, she wouldn’t leave Canada. Unless of course, she meets a hot guy over there.