Tag Archives: identity

A Question of Identity

One thing I’ve been thinking about over these last few days (especially around the issue of First-Nations culture and identity in Canada, and also around the things we’ve been talking about in Anthropology, including this mornings documentary One Big Hapa Family) is the ways in which people construct themselves by choosing to identify with a particular label.

Talking about First Nations history in Canada has really brought home the power of labels for me. Reading parts of Royal Proclamation of 1763 this week for history I was struck by all the different labels First Nations peoples were grouped under. Terms that ranged from “Indian” to “savages” were applied to people of many different tribes from many different nations in the Proclamation, and it struck me that white immigrants to Canada could often choose their labeled identities as they pleased. At first there were mainly British and French Canadians, but as time went on and other national backgrounds began to cross the ocean, the idea of what constituted “Canadian” began to encompass other European nationalities as well. But these people had the choice of whether to identify as Polish-Canadian, German-Canadian, and so forth. They could also choose to simply identify as Canadian.

The legal language of “Indian” erased nationalities, and the residential school system was another strong step towards cementing the idea in the Canadian mindset that being an “Indian” from a nation on the coast of British Columbia was no different from being an “Indian” from the interior. While the term First-Nations makes some improvement, recognizing the multinational nature of Canada’s indigenous peoples, it is still too often used as a convenient blanket term. Furthermore, “First Nations” still carries a lot of the stereotypes that “Indian” has held in the past, simply due to the poor education about the diversity of First Nations cultures. The reality is, a lot of white Canadians still have nebulous notions of what Canadian indigeneity looks like, mostly comprised of clips from Disney’s Pocahontas, and some aesthetic ideas about dream catchers, intricate bead work, stylized images of killer whales, totem poles and painted drums.

In a culture that would rather think about stereotypes and would prefer to simplify many diverse peoples into one monolithic group called “First Nations people” self-identifying as being from a certain nation, a distinct tribe, and a particular family is a truly radical act.

So when Niska chooses, in the face of white people labeling her both “Indian” and a problem, to leave residential school and live in the same manner as her ancestors; when she curses a man so blinded by her being “Indian” that he cannot understand her humanity, a man who honestly seemed to think that having sex with her in a church would allow him to somehow steal her “powers”; when she continues in the tradition of being a windigo killer in the middle of colonized Canada, she is defying the Canadian convention of what an “Indian” is. Because Niska isn’t being a stereotype, she is simply being herself.

Living  in a country in which her self-chosen identity is eclipsed by her heritage, Niska’s decision to choose to continue to self-identify as Cree is a deeply political act. But what is important isn’t really the statement that she is making- the importance lies in that she is able to be who she chooses to be, regardless of what others might try to make her instead.

Look Mom! No Hyphen?

After contemplating the Truth and Reconciliation Commission, discussing disencapsulation, reading Obasan and my fellow classmates’ blog posts about hyphenated identities, and considering the process of othering through the lens of District 9, I feel I’ve begun to sift through my ideas about race and ethnic identity enough to craft a single statement based on my emerging ideas: Race, cultural heritage and ethnic identities are complicated things.

The older I get, the younger I feel.  When I was young I assumed, as many of us do, that growing up would give me all the answers.  In my early teenage years I was passionate and vocal about a lot of social issues.  Race featured among them, but so did sexism, homophobia, ableism, and several others.  The world was black and white.  Injustice was everywhere and it was easy to point my fingers at it and say: “There! That is the wrong that needs fixing.  And this is what needs to be done.”

It doesn’t seem quite that simple anymore.  Injustice is ever visible and easy to identify.  A solution?  Not so much.  The complexity of identity isn’t reducible.  It’s easy to say “we’re all one race!  The human race!” or “We all have the same sexuality, we’re all into people!” or “Forget gender, we’re the same species after all.”  But it isn’t that simple.  Ignoring the things that make us different doesn’t make them go away.  In fact, ignoring the things that make us different is a way of dehumanizing ourselves that is even more despicable than focusing on our differences.  Instead of demeaning others by stripping them of their rights, we demean those around us by stripping them of themselves.  Things like our ethnic and racial backgrounds, our gender and sexuality, and our physical appearance and capabilities make us who we are.

No one is champion of their own destiny.  We are all products of circumstance, shaped by the invisible hand of random occurrence.  To disregard things like race, ethnicity, gender, sexuality and our physical attributes is to deny the unique voice those things lend us as individuals.  Had Obasan’s Naomi been white, her story would not have been as heartbreaking.  Had District 9’s Christopher Johnson been a human, the movie would not have been as great a tale of injustice.

The trouble with these aspects of our hyphenated identities isn’t our acknowledgement of them- its the pretension that we can use them to define ourselves and each other.  No one is just “Japanese-Canadian.”  Naomi was a female-cisgendered (I think?)-introverted-able bodied-second generation-Japanese-Canadian, and even that is a reduction of her personality.  These strings of identifiers don’t tell us any more about a person than a photograph would; they are incomplete reflections of the inconceivable complexity that lies within a human soul.  To imagine that we can understand and categorize one another by the labels we adopt or apply to ourselves and our acquaintances is dangerously naive.

But more dangerous still is the unfamiliarity of the privileged with life inside the hyphen.  As Toni Morrison once said: “In this country American means white. Everybody else has to hyphenate.”  I must confess, consciously thinking of myself as having an ethnic background feels strange to me.  But at the same time, how many of us honestly refer to or think of ourselves as able-bodied?  As able-minded?  I don’t think of my privileges as being some of my most salient attributes, but in honesty, they are.  I am the product of my labels as much as anyone is.

So what do we do with our labels?  They can’t define us, can’t explain us, can’t categorize us, but they do provide some background information for why we are the people we are. Should we hyphenate?  Should everyone hyphenate?  Or are our salient attributes visible enough that we need not share them through identifiers like “Japanese-Canadian?”  Is there a simple answer to any of these questions?

 

No.