I was a Teenage Anglophone

I was a teenage Anglophone.

My parents were both born in Europe.  My mother was born and raised in London, England, of English and Italian parents. My father was born in Copenhagen, Denmark, and moved with his family to Quebec when he was 10 years old. They met in Malta as young adults, married in London in 1972, and settled in Quebec.

We were sent to English school. I have no recollection of French immersion being discussed. In retrospect, I have the impression that this was simply overlooked: my parents each spoke three languages, felt that French would come easily through daily life, and we would have the best chance to succeed in school in our mother-tongue.

However, against expectations, I found learning French incredibly difficult. It wasn't simply the complicated grammar with its gender discrimination and variety of tenses, but also the pronunciation. Quebec French rolls its "R"s, and I could never manage anything but a clumsy growl. Still can't do it.

(It didn't help that schools taught "proper" French - the original, formal French; because on the streets, people speak Quebecois, or "joual". Joual drops most of the formal grammar, adopts words from other languages easily, and has a twang not unlike a Texan. Joual is near incomprehensible to anyone taught "school French".)

It wasn't until the second grade that I became aware of any issues surrounding language in Quebec. One of my teachers became antagonistic. At the time I had no idea why. I was an able, enthusiastic student and regular honour roll recipient. Teachers liked me. This one did not.

Madame X did not seem to enjoy her job very much, and was known for exaggerated, exasperated sighs and bitter asides against her slower students. I think she may have harboured a suspicion that I was deliberately provoking her. After all, I excelled in every other subject. Why would I consistently come close to failing in her class, if not on purpose? Clearly, I was a maudit Anglaise.

The pattern remained throughout my early education. Although no teacher ever quite made me feel as stupid as Madame X, all French teachers tended to regard me with suspicion: she's so smart, it is impossible she could be this terrible at French unless she's doing it on purpose. Some of them even voiced this suspicion. My failure was viewed as a deliberate political statement.

I grew to hate French. I began to hate the classes, hated speaking it out loud (stuttering endlessly), resented the teachers for their impatience, and resented my brain for failing. Oh, I could get by, and passed all my French courses (barely), but it was always a struggle.

Adolescence was more of the same, only I was more exposed to the society around me. I discovered that Madame X's attitude was fairly standard.

I've been yelled at by random, old ladies for mistakenly using "tu" instead of "vous", berated by countless public transit goons, sneered at by bureaucrats, and viewed with suspicion by peers, because I could not master the language. It didn't matter how hard I was trying, it didn't matter if they themselves understood English perfectly. Ici on parle Francais!

Most Anglos, and many innocent tourists, have had terrible experiences over mundane things (for examples, see here, here, and here). Transit workers are particularly notorious. And heaven help you if you are not white (here, here, and here).

The most offensive element of all is the Office Quebecois de la langue Francaise. The OQLF was created in 1961 to strengthen the French language in Quebec and ensure its priority over other languages. Given that Quebec is surrounded by English-speaking provinces, this was understandable. What is not so understandable is the methods they use:

For example, I worked for many years at a large, predominantly English, bookstore in downtown Montreal. Book people generally like other book people, regardless of their language, so it was rare that there were any issues. If the client spoke French, we spoke French. If they spoke English, we spoke English. If they spoke another language, we'd do our best. No big deal.

But one day the "language police" showed up. In the future, we were informed, all intercom pages had to be in French. If a Chinese person called, asking about a Polish cookbook, and reached an English clerk at the information desk, the page could only be in French. If an English-speaking person wanted to purchase an English book, the clerk had to conduct the transaction in French, regardless.

A  few years later, when I working in a neighbourhood pharmacy, the language police showed up and threatened legal action because the signage, which was bilingual, had the English and French portions the same font size.

Considering the hefty fines levied for breaching any language laws, managers had no choice but to enforce them. These laws were hardly draconian, just incredibly irritating, costly, and short-sighted.

What is a more serious problem is that many people used the OQLF and language laws to "legally" discriminate against, and harass, native English-speakers, as illustrated in the links above. Worst of all, the OQLF is subsidized by tax revenue that could (should) be used to repair the notorious crumbling infrastructure. Quebecois people are dying because highways and buildings are collapsing. But somehow the OQLF can send their "tongue-troopers" to investigate bookstore signage and restaurant menus.

Why is this working?  The PQ politicians and their cronies are using fear-based marketing on the Francophone people. Fear-based marketing is horribly effective. The politicians tell the French that their culture is fading, their language is disappearing, they are beset by the hostile Anglophone provinces that surround them. Their (the people) only hope is to support the Parti Quebecois, unless they all want to end up becoming.... what, exactly? A shining example of human diversity? A tourist paradise? A multicultural, sophisticated population?

The irony of it all is that the Quebecois people (French, English, and other) are some of the most generous, friendly, playful, and wonderful people I have ever met. When removed from the "language debate". they are generally welcoming, extremely funny, down to earth, kind, and way more fun than the average Ontarian (sorry, Ontario).

An yet, the people of Quebec are turning on one another, provoked and encouraged by political rhetoric. Exploiting the language difference between two co-existing cultures for political gain is ruthless and short-sighted. It's bad for the province and bad for its people. What is, underneath all the hyperbole and manufactured strife, a unique, vibrant cross-culture, is being destroyed by the petty and the dishonest. The fundamentalists (on both sides) should be ashamed.

Stereotypically for an Anglo, I eventually moved to Toronto. It's hard to ignore the politicians and their cronies reminding you, frequently, that you are not welcome in Quebec, even if you were born there.  I was tired of being a "maudite Anglaise", I just wanted to be a person. Toronto, for all its many faults, doesn't care about language. Most of the people here aren't from here anyway, so nobody really cares, and everyone manages to communicate without top-down legislation.


* My apologies for the lack of correct accents of the French words. It is not an intentional slight - my keyboard is low-end.

Thanks to Hipster Joe and Tabby G. for their help with this post!