Yet Here We Are

Interesting feature article by Jakeet Singh on Rabble recently. He's responding to a series of articles in the Globe and Mail, specifically pieces written by Maria Jimenez about "ethnic enclaves" in Canada that exist by and large because of multiculturalism. Unfortunately, my attempts to actually read the articles were, as ever, stymied by the Globe's insistence on making people pay to read archived material. I don't have ready access to the print Globe the way I used to, so the context I'd like isn't entirely complete, but Singh's comments make sense without necessarily having to read the other articles.

I'd like to echo John Ralston Saul's argument in his book Reflections of a Siamese Twin. The main thrust of his argument is that as Canadians, it is our acknowledgement and embrace of the differences between us that make us special - that those differences, and the means we have used to push past them to create a thriving society, are in fact part of what defines us as a country. We are a people separated by language, geography, cultural norms, religion... all of these things were once great excuses to start killing and/or subjugating lots of people. The very fact that Canada came into being was unlikely, and the forces that were at work in the beginning to try and stop the efforts of men like Robert Baldwin and Louis-Hippolyte Lafontaine are still at work today, in the form of pernicious ideologies. Yet here we are.

I think that if we're going to have a discussion about the merits of multiculturalism, we have to understand that from the start, Canada has been multicultural. It had to be for any kind of French/English political partnership to work. It's almost ridiculous to speak of multiculturalism as "policy" when the very existance of the state is predicated on it. It's clear that some people have forgotten (or they were never taught) why Canada exists they way it does. The councillors in the Quebec municipality of Herouxville certainly seem to have (click on "Avis Publique" and scroll down to read the "Standards" document).

Constant talk of possible terrorist attacks on Canadian soil, constant fear of the unknown, has caused at least some people to actively condemn the cultural norms of other citizens. According the Globe and Mail, this leads to the point where they are willing to advocate splitting communities up to better make their members "fit in" with ice hockey and maple syrup! Imagine what would happen if anglophones demanded that the francophones be scattered across the entire country in order to assimilate into "Canadian culture". Most people would laugh out loud at the very notion. We seem to be more than willing to say as much about ethnic minority groups more recently arrived.

I will say this: in the absence of any monolithic Canadian culture, we have by and large adopted the one that's closest at hand, American culture. But that's a story for another time.

The Impossible Dream

I'd like to relate a story of what happened to me this past weekend. Unfortunately, a tricky little thing called a non-disclosure agreement was signed, so I find myself wanting to express thoughts about something that really make very little sense out of context. I'll do my best anyway - I've got to get it out.

I went to what was essentially a "cattle-call" musical theatre audition. It was my first experience of the kind, and I really had very few expectations going in. No, wait, that's not entirely true. I did expect that I could handle whatever got thrown at me. I mean, I've been involved in musical theatre for years and years. The major part of the audition was the dance call, and boy, was I in for a shock. Or a treat, it all depends.

Nearly everyone there had some kind of dance training, and many of them were absolutely amazing dancers. I wasn't. In fact, I think it's fair to say that I was the most incompetent dancer there, period. I talked to some of the others who expressed consternation at their lack of dancin' mojo, but I don't think anyone else sucked nearly as much as me. A fact of which I take a certain twisted pride.

It wasn't that way at first, naturally. I'm the type of person who likes a challenge, especially if it's within the realm of things I know I can do. Anyone who was in Jenee Gowing's 2003 movement class at Acadia knows I can be just as much of a dancing fool as I am a singer and an actor. I just need plenty of rehearsal, which this particular situation did not offer me. With probably 80 people or more in the studio, and only a few hours to get through the whole thing - there wasn't time to teach everyone how to actually do the dance they were teaching. Just watch and learn, that was how it went. I was so frustrated.

I met a lot of nice people who were very encouraging. To everyone who told me I could do it, even when I knew that it was pointless, thank you. It made the day a lot better, and it allowed me a sort of Zen acceptance of the fact that I didn't make the cut. There were people who cheered me on when they didn't have to, and I appreciate that even more. A big thank you to everyone.

Here's the thing. I nearly gave up completely. I nearly said to myself, "This is nuts. I'm out of my league, time to go." I didn't. I could hardly stand being in the room, let alone try to dance, but I made the best I could of what I thought was a pretty much impossible situation. My old high school music teacher, Bob Rushton, used to say, "We can never be perfect, but we can always try." As trite as it is, often the effort is more important than success or failure. I stuck with the dancing, and tried to push the thoughts of humiliation out of my mind for long enough to get through it.

I think that I did make the cut, at least the one that really matters. If I hadn't bothered, if I'd left before the end, I would probably have hated myself for it. The whole trip, the whole experience, would have been nothing but a waste of time. Instead, I have not only a healthy sense of self-respect, but a better sense of who I am as an artist and what I want to keep doing. That's pretty fucking cool.