When I was younger, most of my fondest memories were based on something implicitly “Canadian”.  Learning to skate, watching the Olympics in Vancouver, Tim Hortons and something else. All of these things, though, came at some cost to other parts of my identity. Despite being born in Pakistan, if you asked me to speak a sentence in Urdu - I’d be incapable of doing so. At the time, I didn’t think much of this. It wasn’t really brought up. As I grew older, I started to realize the dichotomy at play. Most of my friends who’s heritage also originated out of Pakistan had no problem with still being in touch with the culture, let alone the language. Here I was, at some odd middle ground between two countries I couldn’t really find my way in between. While boxing myself into the culture I came from was always going to be hard given my unfamiliarity, it was puzzling that I couldn’t find my way into calling myself Canadian. It was hard for me, to pinpoint exactly what that entails.

It was only until late in my teenage years, maybe the past few years or so, that I’ve been able to come up with some idea of an answer to this question. The summary of which, if that’s all you take away, is this: being Canadian is an extraordinary privilege.

There are many reasons I think this to be the case, but to first give a preface: of course, there are issues. Nothing is without problems - the least of which would be a country of 40 million people. Some of these problems you and I may have experienced firsthand, with undertsanding they are countless other experiences we never will. The point isn’t to turn a blind eye to Canada’s many, many shortcomings, but rather to recognize the quiet baseline it provides. The small things we easily overlook, the pleasantries we enjoy that others aren’t fortunate enough to have.

If you agree with the notion I just outlined, your first thought might be to talk about the systems we are accustomed to. Courts and democracy we are afforded, healthcare systems we reap the benefits of, world-class education that’s become a norm. And while each of those things, and more are certainly of huge privilege, when you look beyond the systems there’s a temperament in Canada that is harder to see, yet easier to feel. It’s a sort of quiet grit. It’s the way people endure winters that feel endless. Where people reluctantly, but persistently help each other out the snow. It’s the way in which communities rebuild after floods, fires, and disasters without turning it into spectacle. It’s stories of communities like the ones in Fort McMurray, who in the midst of fires year after year - never lost their principle in helping one another out. Or in floods in Calgary, where 5000 Calgarians helped clean up over 200 homes, not because they knew them personally, but because of shared bond that’s hard to describe or say out loud. There’s a cultural muscle memory of “we’ll figure out”, not loudly and certainly not perfectly, but with great persistence. Grit is perhaps the most underrated characteristic of a country that tries it’s best to not draw too much attention to itself. There’s a bit of a societal misnomer in defining what Canada has to offer. While the heroism listed on the front page of the National Post or CBC draws all the headlines, the story less heard is the patient, stubborn day-to-day work that allows life to carry on, even when the odds couldn’t be stacked worse against us. Never bet against a group of people so stubborn, with grit that weaves a society so that it can keep moving forward in the face of hardship. 

Perseverance is a natural next place to go from grit. Where grit is the pure endurance of hardship, perseverance is the disdain to give up, and the willingness to keep trying. It’s the stories that make us a country of hope, because there’s just so much of it to go around. Immigrants starting from zero, families opening corner stores with parents working multiple jobs, just so kids can go to school. It’s the students in remote areas of the country who trek miles to reach school, because we place such a significant value on safe, free and valuable public education. It’s students balancing part time jobs with the hope that incremental effort will pay off. You may postulate that these things are not a uniquely Canadian experience. And while perseverance, the concept may look similar elsewhere - perseverance, the experience is not. It’s shaped by geography, by climate and societal expectations that are hard to replicate anywhere else. You can persevere anywhere, but only a Canadian knows what it’s like to travel vast distances in cities sprawled beyond belief. It’s a social contract, of sorts, that makes people endure together. But it befalls on a group of people to make this shared belief the norm. In plenty of other countries, people persevere on an individual level, what makes us so different? 

The answer, is some type of courage. We’ve also had the courage to do exceptional things when no one else does. Like accepting refugees with open arms from a country thousands of miles away, when no one else did. It’s the freedom to speak at rallies and voice your opinion, where no matter how small, a right is protected on the basis that civic engagement matters. The volunteers who trudge through spring floods to rescue animals would tell you that it doesn’t take a lot of smart to do what’s right, but it does take an obscene amount of courage. The measurement of courage is in-fact not in how flashy the task it is. Rather, it is based on the amount of empathy and necessity needed, a reflection of the country itself.  Kindness feels particular here. The thing that Canada get’s teased for, the stereotype that can seem almost laughable until you notice everywhere, is somehow true beyond belief when you experience it. The small gestures you take for granted are the ones so unique to us, holding the door a second longer than necessary, a community quietly raising funds after a tragedy. The refugee welcome at airports is nothing but an extreme example of unwavering kindness that is hard to find elsewhere. It’s the type of care that can only flourish in a country that is a melting pot of experiences, of hardship and struggle shaped in diversity, that makes us privy to the understanding that things will always be tough - being mean can’t make it any better. 

Something people like to really take Canada in for is the lack of innovation in our country. Innovation is rarely zero sum. It would be ridiculous to think it is. When Evan Spiegel (Snapchat) first stood up in a Stanford product design class to present his final project, he explained a ridiculous idea. A mobile app where people could share photos that would go away forever. A venture capitalist in the room said “…it could be interesting, if he made the photos permanent and partnered with Best Buy.”. The moral of the story here is that casting some sort of judgement on the innovation potential of an entity based on a fragment of it’s history is foolish. The same goes for countries. When compared to the United States, the famous bearer of truth for many entrepreneurs in our country, Canada does seem to peril. But there are countless examples of Canadian innovations.

Canadaarm, was, at the time, the most advanced feat of engineering in the continent. IMAX is a file system made entirely by Canadian filmmakers. Cohere was founded entirely out of Canada, from Canadian founders. The pacemaker, developed by Winnipeg engineer John Hopps, became one of the first devices to regulate heart rhythms and save lives globally. Frederick Banting and Charles Best’s discovery of insulin in Toronto transformed type 1 diabetes from a fatal disease into a manageable condition. James Hillier’s work on the electron microscope opened the door to atomic-scale imaging and modern scientific research. BlackBerry, created by Mike Lazaridis and Douglas Fregin, revolutionized mobile communication and set the stage for secure smartphones worldwide. The stem cell research of Dr. James Till and Dr. Ernest McCulloch laid the foundation for regenerative medicine as we know it. Donald Hings’ invention of the walkie-talkie for bush pilots became essential for both civilian and military communication. Joseph-Armand Bombardier’s snowmobile transformed life in northern and remote communities, enabling travel, work, and school in regions where roads fail during winter. We’re a country of builders. This has always been the case, and will remain the case. Yet seemingly more and more as the years go on, top tier talent from Canada leaves elsewhere to start their careers. There is no fault on the individual for going where innovation is more potent. But it takes groups, communities and people who see Canada for more than what it may present on surface level - to retain top talent.

Identity is not cut and dry. For a while I thought leaning into Canada meant betraying another half of me. Lived experience is not that clean. Identity is less like a switch and more like sediment, parts that become more obvious over time. Most people from coast to coast don’t fit into a box and may never fit a tidy definition of being Canadian. Maybe, that is the point. At it’s best, Canada is a place where incomplete stories are allowed. No other country on the planet affords the permit to be in the in-between. On a hybrid of histories, languages, backgrounds and experiences. Where you can do this, and still be part of a collective. It’s a quiet freedom, to navigate such a rare amount of ambiguity without being forced to choose a side. 

This country is incredible. Nowhere else on this earth would I have been afforded the privilege to experience what I have. To travel the world, to obtain world-class education, to be accepted with open-arms as immigrants from a country thousands of miles across the world. Of course there were moments where this wasn’t true. But the expectation of perfection would be unfair to hold as a Canadian. After all, no one expected me, or the countless of other people from stories not too much different, to have everything figured out on day one. A country that is such a drastic amalgamation of experiences has been kinder to me than I could have ever asked for. 

Privilege isn’t much of a slogan here. It’s more of a synonym for gratitude. Gratitude for a place that let me and millions of others land here, a society that gave me room to figure myself out slowly, and the quiet freedom to question what belonging really means. The privilege, maybe, is to simply be in the presence of a people who embody grit, perseverance and courage, kindness that is hard to turn a blind eye to, acts of generosity that form the foundation of a culture, and engage in innovation that is humble at it’s core. 

The implicit Canadian story is best summed up as unsaid responsibility. Beneath, but not unaware to, the wide range and diversity of lived experience from coast to coast is a foundation of communal obligation to each other. It’s the thing you can’t really pinpoint, can’t really describe, and never really comes up as an answer to any questions on TV. And so while I, too, can’t really pinpoint where I lie with my own journey - fortunately, the country that surrounds me makes me feel a whole lot more at home about it.