My kinship
Many, many years ago when I was in highschool, we had to find a Canadian novel and write a report on it. I loved reading and writing and while most people picked The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz because it had dirty words and a pervert in it, I choose something different.
I choose Margaret Laurence’s, “The Diviners”.
Growing up, I never realised I lived a life different than any other. That was until I went to school that first day in the big city. Immediately, I wasn’t one to fit in. I wasn’t like the others. But, I didn’t know why I was different. Was it because I was from the country? Was it my funny clothes? My accent? I didn’t know. I was only 9 years old!
But then one day, I met a friend of mine. Her name was Jackie and she was Ojibwe. Her parents welcomed me into their home as though I was their daughter. I finally felt back to feeling ‘at home’. It was then I knew why I was different. I was native.
We didn’t grow up native … meaning, we didn’t go to pow-wows, we didn’t dress up in our regalia, we didn’t speak a language any other than english or french. But I knew this is who I was. But, I learned early about racism. I was white as a ghost, blonde as an albino and no one knew my secret. It was in highschool when I really realised how I didn’t fit into the ‘white construct’ and most of my friends were native. Of course, I felt a bit ashamed too. It’s hard to explain but I couldn’t BE who I wanted to be without it being uncomfortable for me. Living a lie is how I felt.
In college, I began to soul-search. And it wasn’t until in my twenties, did I become brave enough to encounter my past… including who I truly was. University however, was the turning point. It’s where I could take my self to the next level. I began to learn the ‘lingo’ and new levels of thinking. It’s where I dared to ask questions that I never would dare answer.
Finally? I was proud to be ME. I didn’t have to feel bad about who I was. Finally, things began to make sense. And, I did grow up native! I had a rich family around me, I had the stories, the gathering, the music… I had the people who were close to me. I had friends who accepted me no matter WHAT my mixed heritage was. Martin calls me a “Mixican” and you know what? I love it…. because I am. Because, I acknowledge all of my backgrounds which have created me.
I was blessed to have a professor who in a fourth-year class, allowed me to write a paper about me. ME! I wrote 30 whole pages, about my background and my history. And my people’s history.
This is where I come full-circle to The Diviners. It’s a story about a Scottish woman who had a child with a french/native man. Just like my parents. The daughter searches for her background. Just like me. She knows she is different. Just as I felt. She knows in the end, who she is. So do I. And so, I’ve always felt that I had a special kinship… a special connection with Piquette.
Perhaps one day, I shall too write my story.
