I Am Canadian!!! Essay, Research Paper

Actually, this isn’t true for me, as I was born in Southfield Michigan, on

the tenth day of September in 1983, and I have an American birth

certificate. TECHNICALLY SPEAKING, I AM .. (cough cough) American, but

being proud to live in this great country, and having been brought up as a

true, red-blooded Canadian gal, I am not so quick to admit this minor

detail to the masses. So then what does it mean to be a Canadian, if you

don’t even have to be born in the country to make claim to the name? This

is a question I have often asked myself as I was growing up, and am only

just beginning to realize the answer to now.

There are certain components to “being a Canadian”. Number one, “being a

Canadian” and anti-Americanism seem to go hand in hand. Ninety percent of

our population lives within 120 miles of the US border, so of course we

are going to be inclined to compare ourselves to our neighbors to the

south. How many times have you been sitting in your living room with a

group of guests, where someone makes a remark about Americans in general,

and in turn causes the masses to laugh uproariously? Maybe you were

relaxing and watching t.v. one evening, and were subjected to a prime

example of anti-Americanism . Canadian programming has increasingly

focussed upon ridiculing American theocracy, society, and ideologies in

general. Take our own “This Hour has 22 Minutes”, or “The Royal Canadian

Airfarce”. Both are wonderful examples of the increasingly popular idea of

making a mockery of our American counterparts. And we love it. We support

it. We want more. Newfoundland’s Rick Mercer was able to make a spin off

of his “Talking to Americans” portion of 22 minutes. We soak it all in as

a continual reminder of our newfound superiority. I say newfound, because

it is only in recent years that we as Canadians have really been coming

into our own.

A certain commercial comes to mind, one that made Canada’s population

compare themselves to Americans, not by what the Americans have that

Canadians do not, but in the opposite manner. So what’s our secret weapon?

What else but a beer commercial. It began in movie theaters, migrated to

television and now has become such a cultural phenomenon that it is being

performed live at sporting events.Yes, I speak of the I AM CANADIAN ads,

so ingeniously contrived by the wonderful imaginations of ad directors for

Molson Canadian beer. And along with Molson’s sales, Canadians around the

country received an ego boost as well. In a sense, this commercial became

our identity. What we were lacking in confidence before the debut of this

commercial, was entirely made up for and then some upon its arrival. I

think we had it in us the whole time, we just needed that little extra

nudge in the right direction before we had the audacity to yell loudly and

proclaim it to the world. A moment of silence, if you will, for the great

Canadian monologue that has the Americans who have seen it up in arms:

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I A M C A N A D I A N !!!

I am not a lumberjack or a fur trader,

And I don’t live in an igloo or eat blubber or own a dogsled,

And I don’t know Jimmy, Sally, or Susie from Canada,

Although I am certain they are really, really nice.

I have a Prime Minister, not a President.

I speak English and French, not American.

And I pronounce it “about” … not “a-boot”.

I can proudly sew my country’s flag on my backpack.

I believe in peacekeeping not policing;

Diversity not assimilation;

And that the beaver is a truly proud and noble animal!

A toque is hat; a chesterfield is a couch.

And it is pronounced ZED not ZEE, ZED!

Canada is the second largest landmass,

The first nation of hockey,

And the best part of North America!

MY NAME IS MARILYN AND I AM CANADIAN!!!

So, there it is, in all of its glory. In bars, patrons now demand that the

volume be turned up when the ad comes on the TV screen so they can shout

the words along with the Nova Scotia actor. High school students began

reciting it spontaneously in hallways between classes. And when it was

performed at the National Hockey League playoff game between the hometown

Maple Leafs and the Ottawa Senators, it generated the kind of

fist-in-the-air ovation usually reserved for goals scored in sudden death.

In some respects, what is so remarkable about the reaction to the ad is

that it is so un-Canadian. Ever since they fled the American colonies to

support their king, English-speaking Canadians have shunned the kind of

flag-waving, chest-thumping, We’re-The-Best-At-Everything nationalism

practiced to the south.

Whether the ad is simply a lively expression of Canadian national pride or

a not-so-subtle appeal to anti-Americanism is a question that still

remains to be answered. Canadians and Americans are alike in so many ways,

and the United States is such a looming presence in Canadian life, that

virtually the only way Canadians have to define their identity is to

highlight whatever is un-American about themselves. Hence, our secondary

national anthem.

As I was researching this paper on the internet, I came across this poem,

or this piece of writing rather, that reflect exactly the attitudes I am

talking about in a very satirical manner.

Being Canadian

Anonymous

On the sixth day, God turned to the Archangel Gabriel and said,

“Today, I am going to create a land called Canada.

It will be a land of outstanding natural beauty. It shall have tall

majestic mountains full of mountain goats and eagles, beautiful

sparkling lakes bountiful with carp and trout, forests full of elk

and moose, high cliffs overlooking sandy beaches with an

abundance of sea life, oceans filled with cod, and rivers stocked

with salmon.” God continued, “I shall make the land rich in oil

and minerals, with verdant forests, so as to make the inhabitants

prosper. I shall call these inhabitants Canadians. They shall be

known as the most friendly people on the earth.”

“But Lord,” asked Gabriel, “don’t you think you are being too

generous to these Canadians?”

“Not really,” replied God. “Just wait and see the neighbors

I’m going to give them.”

It may sound dumb, but to be a Canadian should mean simply to be yourself.

Red and white flags, Canada Day speeches, patriotic pronouncements, and

loud displays do not and cannot build or maintain a nation. Just look

South and you might see why.

It all comes from within, from what we really believe strongly in our

hearts as a people, and from nowhere else. And if all we’re left with to

believe in is American programming and TV guide, then so be it. But if we

feel we have to depend on Celine Dion, Bryan Adams and other empty threats

to bolster our national pride, we are doomed as a country anyway. We

cannot, and must not place our entire nations pride and honor in the

whimsical few personalities to come out of Canada.

Anyone can say, ‘I’m a Canadian, eh!’ Anyone can sew a maple leaf on a

backpack (I’ve heard of Americans doing this in Europe, so they would be

treated better.)

Being Canadian is more than a phrase, the maple leaf, hockey, beavers and

a beer commercial. And it’s so much more than simply being un-American. If

it’s not, then perhaps we should add some words to the national anthem: “O

Canada, glorious and free, We’re not Americans, nor would we want to be.”

Since Confederation, this Dominion of ours has been in danger of

destruction. And it will stay in danger until it dies, or until we can

grow and mature enough to know that we are a worthy nation, capable of

standing up for ourselves, without always checking with other countries to

see what they think.

When it comes down to it, who cares what the Yanks think? It’s what we

think of ourselves that counts, and to be quite honest, we seem to be

coming up kind of short in that department. It’s time to shake off this

national angst. Let’s get on with being Canadian without constantly trying

to define what a Canadian is. Leave that to someone else. It is not the

fault of the Americans. They have no devious, underhanded plan to take

over. Most of the time, they’re barely aware Canada exists.