Flag flap

There is a bridge in my city, where they’ve put up flags along both sides.  It’s really pretty cool, seeing 64 flags representing countries of all the different nationalities that have settled in our city, with our great Red & White flying high above.    I was looking to describe this, because of what my son said about how much he loves the flags on the bridge.  So I searched our local newspaper, and found this article on it, which does a much better job than I could of giving you the W5s of it:  http://www.northernlife.ca/News/LocalNews/2007/06-18-07-flagpoles.asp?NLStory=06-18-07-flagpoles

The article is great, but it’s the comments that follow that left me with a little bit of an empty, disappointed feeling.   And the slew of comments that this event generated, from all sides, English, French, Native…..whoa…. It rapidly devolved into anti-French, anti-English, anti-Immigrant.  No one is listening to understand, everyone talks to react and denigrate the Other, whoever the Other is.   I’m surprised that racial epithets didn’t come flying out (maybe they were edited out).

These are flags that represent people, not ideologies or political parties, not rogue governments, not dangerous groups who operate subversively or not so subversively, with the intent to annihilate a segment of the population that they can’t tolerate.   These flags are representative of people who identify themselves as a group and who belong to a nation, and want to mark that recognition in a symbolic way.   We all belong to different groups of people, each group with its own flag, yet we’ve all come together under the flag of a country that unites us.   How cool is that? 

For the record, and not that this should make a difference, but it might help in understanding  why I’m posting this:  I am Canadian and I am French-Canadian, born and raised in Ontario (because that’s important to some people) and pretty darn proud.  I love my country, and the people who live here are second to none.   I despise the ongoing clash that exists between English, French, and Aborigines, and I realize it will never really go away.   Sometimes, saying you’re French-Canadian is like saying the F word, and it’s been my experience that most people, strangers and friends alike, who are not tolerant of who you are will let you know it, in subtle and not so subtle ways.   I’ve had heated debates with people over the years, and I’ve also held back alot, especially when family and friends hold opposing views or make remarks that raise the hair on the back of your neck.   I can appreciate opposing viewpoints, and frankly it’s good that people have opinions and can express them.   But sometimes I feel I walked into Rednecks On Parade, and the only way out is to smile and back away slowly.   

So I guess I shouldn’t be surprised at the flap over the flags.  But I really don’t care, cause my son P gets the last word on this one.   We drive over the bridge every day, and it’s a pretty spectacular sight.  One gorgeous, sunny day, the wind was just right, and as we approached the intersection, P says in great jubilation:  J’adore les drapeaux, c’est comme si on était des champions! 

Translation:  I love the flags, it’s as if we were champions!

So from the heart of an 8-year-old kid,  he spontaneously summed up the whole thing so much better than any of those commenters could.  We are all champions (even the wankers who whine and complain, although they’ll take a little longer to cross the finish line) and we are open enough to recognize and acknowledge each other with respect and pride, and to celebrate who we are with the very dignified symbol of a flag.     

Love, Chantal xoxoox