WHEN A SIMPLE ‘I AM CANADIAN’ DOESN’T CUT IT
In an age where our identity goes so much deeper than our Census profile, will the state be able to keep up?
Before I moved to Canada, I knew exactly who I was. I was a Pakistani Woman. Simple.
Now, several years later, I am a single, South Asian, Pakistani-Canadian, heterosexual Sunni-Muslim female of Afghan descent; an English speaker, self-employed professional, social activist and blogger. And these are only some of the ways I can choose to identify myself. The list is endless and it’s not necessarily in order.
In a world where we do not have to remain the same gender we were born with, let alone the same nationality, identity is no longer a singularity. And it is no longer defined by just the state.
Indeed, the state primarily identifies us through a set of pre-defined parameters via the national census. In such data, I would simply be a (nameless) South Asian, Pakistani-born Canadian, female Muslim, of Afghan descent and an English speaker.
But self-identity — which depends largely on changing political and social contexts and subjective preferences — is becoming much more important to Canadians, simply because we come from such varied backgrounds. As a nation, we seem to be defining and celebrating our differences more than our commonalities. And that is what defines Canadian identity.
This is all very well in terms of tolerance and acceptance of different cultures and lifestyles. But for a country such as Canada that identifies itself as multicultural, the notion of a common or shared identity has always contradicted our celebration of Canadians of different hues. Particularly once we start peeling back the layers of our ethno-cultural and behavioural characteristics.
For there is much more that lies beneath the surface of each of us. For instance, a Muslim is not just a Muslim, but a Sunni or Shia. A male can be straight, gay or bisexual. A Christian is either a Catholic, Coptic or Protestant. An African-Canadian can identify as either a Black-Muslim or a Black-Christian and so on. All these identities further belong to different sub-ethnicities, religious sub-denominations, gender identities, countries and even tribes and castes. The combinations of variables are equally endless.
Indigenous identity in Canada goes even deeper, with First Nations, Métis, Inuit and a myriad of other communities, each with its own distinct languages and belief systems. It’s a Canadian identity that stands apart from the rest. Even within the data.
Census data tell us where we, our parents and grandparents came from; what languages we speak; how many nationalities we hold; what we do for a living and even how much money we make. The census disaggregates this information, spreads it across age cohorts and regionalizes it. And that’s already truckloads of data. But despite this, it does not tell us how individuals “identify” themselves within these broad parameters. For instance, data on religion doesn’t necessarily tell us if religiosity is growing. I may be a Muslim, but how I choose or not to practise Islam is not captured by ticking one box.
An increase in certain languages does not tell us if this is because of generational influence or because that language has been “learned” to try to access opportunities in newly emerging economies, such as China or Brazil.
The data do not tell us what “link” we have to our country of origin. For instance, my Pakistani identity is not just my nationality, but equally a state of mind. Just as much as my being a Canadian is.
And most importantly, data does not tell us how we prioritize identities. Do we put religion first or nationality? Gender or marital status? If a community prioritizes religious identity, then it will expect those priorities to be met across the board: in education, health, employment, security, dietary needs et cetera. Or if language is a community’s primary marker of identity, its visibility across all ambits would be the expectation of that community.
Likewise, those who prioritize their gender identity, such as binary or transgender, will expect this to be reflected across their official and personal identity.
Many of these variables do not have a measurability component in the Census (apart from language), but they are becoming increasingly important in forming a common identity among those who share such characteristics and who want these identity markers to be reflected nationally. This is why surveys, though not the preferred tool for identity measurement, are now focusing more on attitudes and perspectives than on numbers.
For instance, one recent online survey asked respondents to rank on a scale questions such as “How important is it for all people to have a sense of shared identity in Canada?”; “Can all immigrants retain their cultural identities without being any less Canadian?”; “Indigenous Peoples in Canada should be free to govern themselves” and “Has multiculturalism in Canada has gone too far?”
But this form of identity measurement has its own complications. They depend on how an individual has shaped his or her identity through their experiences. Whether I strongly agree, disagree or neither about whether multiculturalism in Canada has gone too far, will depend on whether or not I feel multiculturalism has been of any tangible use to me in my daily life.
The implications of this “grey area” for national identity, and in turn for various national policies, are substantial for Canada, which subscribes to the “one nation, multiple identities” approach.
The more we self-identify, the more resources the state will need to allocate to support those identities, through more diverse legislation, increased forms of accommodation and even enhanced administrative procedures. This has both financial and political implications for resource allocation.
It also has strong implications for data collection, as it will mean having to delve deeper into questioning Canadians about their self-identity, either through the census or other means. And where does one draw the line on this?
Sometimes, knowing too much is as problematic as not knowing enough.
Under the new, recently announced immigration levels, Canada will continue to add newcomers to its population who will bring with them perhaps even more complex forms of identity, adding to those existing communities who identify in particular ways, increasing their voice within society and also their expectations. Likewise, Indigenous communities are also beginning to reclaim their spaces, and their own national identity.
And we are seeing more of such developments across Canada: not only the demand for different forms of accommodation such as Bill C-16 and Motion-103, which aim to prevent discrimination, but also the misuse of identity data for political ends, such as Quebec’s Bill 62, which limits wearing the niqab in public.
Many argue that the layering of identity is what makes us unique as a nation. Perhaps it does. But that has not stopped Canadians from being any less racially charged or discriminatory towards other cultures, as history has shown, as much as it may encourage them to be inclusive.
Still, the national narrative is overwhelmingly moving toward diversity, inclusion and integration, while the desire to selfidentify according to multiple variables is also growing, often in contradiction to this narrative by creating new identities that disclude others, even unconsciously so. At some point, these trends will clash.
Then the real question is: How important is it to acknowledge these emerging parameters of identity, given Canadian values of freedom and tolerance? How important is it to know what our past ancestries were? How important is it to know how many ethnicities we belong to? How important is any of this for national identity?
These questions should not affect our individual freedoms to choose who we are or who we want to be. But they will affect both national data collection and national policy on a host of topics, if the state chooses to delve deeper. So open discussion and debate is imperative to finding answers rather than seeing this as a threat to personal freedoms or a way to discriminate or suppress.
Identity is complex in itself. But how much more complex do we want to make it?
I never wanted my identity to be complicated. I was quite happy keeping it simple. I still am. This article is based on a presentation made by the author at the CIIM Forum on Measuring Canadian Identity, Diversity and Inclusion in Canada @150 and Beyond, held in Gatineau in December 2017. She blogs at www.lamehdood.com.