Quebec: A tale of two solitudes

Page 7

When I was going to college in Toronto, about 12 years and 15 pounds ago, I met this girl. She was about my age and spoke with the most darling French Canadian accent. Having grown up on a Native reserve, this was my first time in the city and I was anxious to make friends. Especially pretty ones.

So as the days passed we spent time hanging around together, developing a friendship, and teasing each other the way one teenagers can. At one point, after some disagreement I've long since forgotten, she laughingly punched my arm, saying "all you English are alike?" I distinctly remember looking around my immediate area trying to figure out who she was talking about. Puzzled, I looked at her saying, "I'm not English. I'm Native."

She hemmed and hawed, somewhat embarrassed, trying to save her position.

"Well, I meant you English-speaking people are alike."

Unfortunately, she was right in one aspect, English was my first language, not Ojibway like it should be, but that was not the relevant point here. So, trying to look as philosophical as possible, I countered with "So does that mean I can say all you white people are alike, English and French? That's the same?"

She shook her heard, saying "That's different."

That was a long time ago. Or so it seems. Looking back on this snippet of my life, I can't help but think how prophetic this was, considering the situation that now exists in Quebec. Evidently it is still "different."

I recently returned from spending three weeks in wonderful downtown Montreal. A remarkably civilized city where you can get a fine bottle of wine at the local store and it has, I believe, the highest per capita quantity ot quality restaurants in Canada. It also has, unfortunately, a strong and growing dislike of its Aboriginal people.

And it is this I don't understand because it defies logic. One would think they would be natural allies, both parties being formally oppressed by the federal government throughout history. But as has happened so many times throughout the ages, the oppressed have become the oppressors. Now Native people in that province find themselves threatened at practically every corner, from the Cree who might find themselves doing the backstroke in mercury-contaminated water due to the James Bay Project. to the Mohawks' understandable wariness of Oka cheese and golf.

I couldn't help but notice during my stay in Montreal that in several of the newspapers, it was free reign on Mohawk-bashing by one or more of the local columnists. It would seem on the surface the Mohawks are the single biggest threat to the people of Quebec since Mordecai Richler's "Oh Canada, Oh Quebec."

The funny thing is, I know these Mohawk people. They are no threat, or at least they don't want to be a threat. Most of them would love the chance to live in domestic harmony with their neighbors, attend Euchre tournaments together, play bingo, all that sort of stuff. It's no fun living your life like a veal lover in a vegetarian store.

But like any typical Native person in this country, I shouldn't be surprised at blatant racism. As it was once said, "racism is as Canadian as hockey." Well, in some cases, both require big sticks.

Though it has been in my experience that the racism in Quebec is quite different form the kind that predominates out west. In the western provinces, the racism consists of Native people supposedly not living up to the lifestyle enjoyed and embraced by the dominant culture. Case in point, "Indians are lazy, always on welfare, bums, drunks, etc." The dislike stems from the perception of Native people being weaker and more dysfunctional.

In Quebec, however, the racism is based on a completely different level. The Native people are perceived as being equals, and more importantly, therefore more dangerously, that equality is perceived as being a threat to the sovereignty of the Quebec people. The Native people want, self-government. And evidently you cannot have two race cars on th same track, they will bump into each other too often.

It has been said that in good relationships, the similarities overcome the differences, and it in those differences that make the relationship exciting. Maybe, but it wasn't long before me and my French Canadian friend stopped seeing each other. And a relationship can't get much more exciting than the incidents at Oka.

So, I guess after all's said and done (and there's a lot that's been said and done), there are still no answers. Not even questions.

Welcome to Canada.