There is no doubt that certain columnists and politicians (follow my gaze, yes, a little further to the right) will choke up when reading Toula Drimonis’ essay, Us, the others, hastening to set it on fire while chanting exorcism incantations. And yet, they would benefit greatly from consulting this presentation which provides a nuanced depiction of the realities of “survenors” in Quebec. Because the author, from a very modest family of Greek immigrants, finds herself on the one hand located at the crossroads of identity, linguistics and culture, but on the other hand has acted as a social observer for more than two decades as a journalist.
The crux of his work: othering, and the multiple forms and degrees of this phenomenon which ends up leading, once pushed to the extreme, onto nauseating paths. Let’s quickly move on to the personal story of Toula Drimonis recounted in her writings, and already condensed by our columnist Rima Elkouri1. In short, his Greek parents settled in Quebec in the 1960s, sweating blood and water to carve out a place for themselves and prepare that of their children, in anonymity and without fuss.
This is also one of the first appeals, after denouncing the political stigmatization of recent years towards newcomers, formulated by the essayist: the demand for banality, the immigrant often being forced to aspire to a “inspiring” model, in the form of a medal-winning athlete or a brilliant scientist, just to justify his contribution to society. “The pressure to achieve this status, which will make all the parental sacrifices worth it, weighs heavily on many immigrants and their children,” she writes. Let them live a life as boring, even mediocre, as anyone else. »
This facet is only a fragment of what makes the strength of We, the others, or a reflection based on a multitude of angles of attack. And even if Toula Drimonis readily concedes that blind spots certainly remain in his considerations, at the very least we cannot blame him for having cast a wide net.
She thus draws on the historical field, retracing the national laws which stigmatized various communities in the country, but above all in the sociological field, starting with a chapter analyzing the impact of a foreign-sounding first name (which some camouflage; her father Panayote calling himself Peter).
Another pearl of the rosary, illustrated with abundant examples: the demand for gratitude that immigrants should demonstrate, like so many eternal debtors forced to keep a low profile and not to destroy their “host” society with criticism. Let’s also talk about loyalty to a range of cultures, a dilemma they frequently face; what culture can we be proud of, without betraying the others that make up an identity?
Between identity lines
Without holding back, the author attacks angry subjects head-on, notably the multiculturalism she supports, always with arguments and nuances. “Homogeneity is not proof of social cohesion or harmony,” she insists, debunking in passing the myth of perfectly sealed cultural ghettos, denounced by those incapable of realizing that subsequent generations blend into the decor. Because, moreover, “if immigrants were resistant to change, they would have stayed where they were,” she says.
Inevitable, the delicate linguistic question is of course on the menu, as are those of Law 21 and secularism. To ignore the arguments and examples offered by the essayist, herself trilingual and well documented on these subjects, would be pure willful blindness; we can listen without joining.
“We”, “you”, “them”, “the others”: many rigid lines have been drawn on the question of identity, this essay rather seeking to highlight that it is precisely in the intervals between these that ‘you have to prospect.
1. Read Rima Elkouri’s column
Us, the others
All in all
272 pages