Can-Asian, or just Canadian.

BELONGING (s)

Maybe being Canadian means tattooing a red maple on my chest, or wearing cologne that smells distinctly like maple syrup, or eating a steady diet of wood-chips and moose-meat. I think on a more nuanced level, I seriously need to reconstruct my own image of what it means to be Canadian. Even though I stare at myself in the mirror everyday– sheer vanity!–, I have this image of a white guy with blue eyes and blond hair snowboarding down the Vancouver mountain side. Oh, and he’s dreamy too. Now that’s a Canadian! Right? I used to believe that someone like that had more claim as a Canadian than I did– that’s regardless of knowing anything else about this fictional snowboarder. Through pure optics, this image of someone that reflects the narrative of English-French colonialism dominates, not just certain cultural, governmental systems, but also our own ingrained, hegemonic ideas of Canadian identity.

So when I see photographs from Cindy Blazevic’s series, Muslim Girl Guides (2009), I want to simultaneously yell, “Get it girl!” and “Yaaas!” because it presents not only alternatives to Canadian identity, but it opens up the possibilities of seeing Canadian identity anew. The four photographs shown in the gallery depict four Girl Guides in hidjab, with visually diverse identities. You should know, the Girl Guides work in a merit based system- complete a learning skill, get a badge. They’re like gold star stickers, but cooler. The skills that you get to learn include chopping wood, camping, or fishing. It develops a relationship to Canada as, not only identity, but also to its geography.

Another set of photos that sucker-nudged me were Abdi Osman’s Plantation Futures series. At first encounter with the photos, you see these photographs of black people, some noted as queer, some in heritage-wear and others in more Western-garb and they’re in poses that feel reminiscent to candid family photographs. A photo your mother would take. All of these in grayscale, framed against a green corner wall. If I saw these photographs outside of this exhibition, I don’t think it would have been as interesting, but Abdi got to me– this whole exhibit got me thinking. I see these groups of people posing so naturally, in such anonymous locations (public parks that look as if it can be from Toronto, high-rise apartments, etc.), and in this subtle way they claim their space for their own. The poses, the depicted laughter, and the everydayness of these people normalised their existence in their location.

That’s what spoke to me. As a queer person of colour, I know the long-drag of having to code switch constantly. I find myself constantly having to adapt the language I use in order to flow with the established space. And for me in my past, that meant having to not talk about queer things at the church I use to go to, it meant not having to bring up issues of race at a former workplace, it meant minimizing parts of myself.

FINAL THOUGHTS

The works may not be the most aesthetically captivating, but that’s why I like them. I could say that for the entire show. However, the theme of Canadian identity (especially with July 1st coming up and Justin Trudeau settling in and also the Brexit) is important. And it brings it back to the most persistent question that self-reflecting existentialists like to ask themselves, “Who am I?” I’m running out of things to say, but if you’re going to see any show, and if you’ve had any questions about what it means to be Canadian, don’t miss this. Come check it out before it ends this week on July 3rd, and we can talk about it! I’ll probably just be typing away at my desk anyway…