On the surface, I’m a Canadian who moved to the U.S. in August, 2005 and has been splitting my time between both countries since then — about 18 months (plus vacations) of the last 4 years have been spent in Canada. Culturally and definitively, I’m Canadian, having spent the first 24 years of my life north of the 49th parallel in a time when Canadian identity was going through phases of being defined as, “Well, I’m not sure what we are, but we’re not American!”, but it’s still a bit more complicated than just being an ex-pat or an immigrant. (Side note: As a kid, I always thought it was so funny that my mom was an immigrant, because to me, immigrants came on ships in the 1800s and early 1900s, had to learn a new language, and travelled in steerage.) Growing up with a dual citizenship and choosing to relocate as an adult have put me somewhere on the scale of Canadian-ish and American-ish, and where I fit on the scale completely depends on the day.

Deep down, I’m probably more Canadian than American, but I’ve always known as much about American history as Canadian, and I was raised to be patriotically both. In fact, my family was and is, in some ways, more patriotic than many other Canadian families because my mom, being American, makes a big deal of national holidays, including Canadian ones (she’s lived here for 30+ years now but has never become a citizen). Colin and I were commenting that she decorates the yard and house more for Canada Day than most people around here do, and part of that, I’m sure, has to do with the fact that July 4th is such a huge holiday in the States.

While Canadian schools learn much more about American history, politics, and economics than American schools do about the Canadian counterparts, it was always also a big part of what we had at home. In our house, knowing about American history and culture was more than just the Americanization of Canadian media and the influences of having mostly American programming.

In California, I’m the “token Canadian” and that’s how certain people introduce me. “This is Alida. She’s Canadian!” I’ve explained Calgary’s bizarre weather patterns to more people than I can count, and I’ve answered, “So, is it really different to be living here?” a gajillion times, give or take a few.

When it comes to Colin’s and my relationship, I’m American: his key to a green card (all those years that I got tongue-in-cheek marriage proposals because I’ve got a dual, it didn’t really occur to me that I’d actually know more about marriage visas and immigration than I ever wanted to). And yes, I know that I’m more than a green card to him, and he doesn’t see me as “AMERICAN,” but legally, in our relationship, I am. Or, at least, I will be, once we’re married and we’re actually pursuing a permanent move back to the States.

When I come back to Calgary, people scrutinize my behavior to see if I’m becoming “more American.” Too American? Maybe. I try to evade the stereotypes of either nationality just to make life easier, but occasionally, it’s just more fun to play into them. I’ve heard it all, from “Wow, you must hate having to live in the States” to “You live in California? Why on earth are you working in Calgary?” to “Man, you’re so lucky that you get Target and cheaper gas!” Of those statements, I tend to lean towards the last. No one’s forcing me to live in California; if I didn’t want to, I wouldn’t. But I do want to, and we do want to, and while we’ll be in Canada for a few more years, we’re still planning to move to the U.S. one day, and trust me, it’s not because it’s the easier place to be.

According to my passports (yes, I have two), I’m whichever one I want to travel on. Up until last month, my legal residence was in California, so I travelled on my U.S. passport. However, in May, I became a Canadian resident again, so this fall, when I’m going back and forth between the two countries, I’ll probably travel on my Canadian passport. I file taxes in both countries (although that has less to do with citizenship than with the fact that I’ve spent time working in both countries every year since 2005), I have a SIN and a SSN, I have both a birth certificate and a certificate of birth abroad, I fully identify with the Canadian jokes on How I Met Your Mother, and I think that “Let’s Go to the Mall” is brilliant (and I regret not buying the t-shirt when it was on Glarkware). I mock a lot of original Canadian programming (although Being Erica is proving me wrong, in all the best ways), but I have a vested interest in Canada’s entertainment industry, given that it pays my bills. I don’t get tripped up by words and phrases like “toque,” “KD,” “pencil crayons,” and “duotang.” At one time, I knew the “I am Canadian” rant inside out, even though I don’t drink beer. In school, I couldn’t draw a maple leaf to save my life — but then again, I don’t think that many kids could, so that probably doesn’t mean anything except that I’m a bad artist.

I vehemently deny that I say “oot” and “aboot” (I’m convinced that that’s more an Ontario thing than a Canadian thing), but I proudly say “SORE-ry,” not “SAH-ry.” My spellings vacillate between “our” and “or” (tending towards the “or”) and “re” and “er” (generally going for “re”) with no real rhyme or reason, and I stick a double-L on words before I add a suffix (see: travelling). Most of the time, at least.

I cheer for the Canadians during the Winter Olympics and both countries during the Summer Olympics — but that’s mostly because, during the summer games, Canada’s medal hopes seem to be on par with some small African country with three athletes representing the entire population.

Our kids will have dual citizenships, because it opens so many doors, and I’m so grateful that I have the opportunity to live and work in either country. We’re planning to be in Calgary for a few years, but California is still a big part of our long-term plan, and that’s where we’ll build our home and family. And yet, sometimes, the idea of taking vacation/disability leave when having babies, and not having the security of 12 months of maternity leave, scares me. And you can bet that if we have health problems, we’ll be back in Canada as soon as we can get here.

I defend American culture and my choice to live there just as vehemently as I defend the correct pronunciation of sorry. I’m just as proud of the American history in my family as I am of the Canadian history, and I’ve probably had more emotional patriotic moments as an American than I have as a Canadian.

And yet, even though I hold that magic key to giving them duals, it’s not guaranteed. If our kids are born in the U.S., it’s easy, and we can definitely give them the Canadian side. If we’re still living in Canada when some (or all) of our kids are born, it’ll be time for some serious number-crunching to figure out whether I’ve spent that magic number of days on American soil. Because I’m a dualie, it’s not automatic, and maybe I’m not legally American enough to give my kids those same opportunities, even though I’m American enough to give Colin a green card.

Still, I think I’m mostly Canadian. I’ll laugh at anyone who thinks we live in igloos and wear parkas for 11 months of the year, that we all speak fluent French, or that Calgary and Toronto are next to each other. I’ll deride Canadian cell phone plans, amazon.ca, and the extra fees on flights (although I still tend to prefer Air Canada to WestJet for flights to L.A., just because they have better schedules and better in-flight entertainment). Far from making me less Canadian, I think that those are the things that more deeply entrench my Canuck-ness.

I suppose I just defy categorization. Call me Canadian, call me American — either way, I’ll probably clarify.

(Side note: I feel like I should re-post this entry on Saturday. Nah; you can just come back and read it again then. Happy Canada Day, and an early Happy 4th of July!)

Tags: calgary, Culture, work-life balance

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