Identity is so strange at times. Some days I feel I know exactly who I am; other days, I feel like I have barely scratched the surface. Of course, a part of me still caters to what people expect of me, silently molding myself into a more digestible version of who I am in order to not ruffle too many feathers. Yet, that version of myself costs me a lot. It leaves me contemplating why I even did that in the first place.

Navigating my own identity as the political landscape shifts and Quebec’s politicians become increasingly consumed with protecting what they define as their identity comes into play even more. I find myself having to prove all the various parts of me even more. The part of me that spoke fluent French because my parents had to enrol me in French elementary school due to Bill 101, immediately converting me into their personal translator, from menus to various condo documents. I was their gal. Yet, I have still been met with great surprise when I speak French. Gentle reminders that my skin color makes it hard to believe that I grew up speaking the language. A quick remark of “wow, I did not expect you to be fluent in French?” subtly reminds me that I am my skin color to them first.

I used to find myself over-explaining, justifying that my eleven years of grade school were purely in French, that I juggled learning French grammar and its many exceptions to the rules while reading Louisa May Alcott in order to master the English language as well, and speaking Hindi with my grandparents. Yet, it all comes out jumbled, and I carefully try not to sound defensive. Still, I smile while I defend my knowledge. However, that reaction is not part of my identity at all. I am not one to back down, yet as Quebec politics becomes more focused on othering, I have found myself trying to prove I am part of its framework. Recently, I have found myself vocalizing how immigrant children speak multiple languages, how our parents, coming from various corners of the world, instilled in us the need to speak each language perfectly. This is not limited to immigrant parents and their desire for highly educated children, but also stems from the discrimination they have faced because of their accents. Though they can get by, they want their children to surpass them.

I would be doing myself a disservice if I reduced my identity to the languages I speak. I am the child of two immigrants who have proudly devoted their lives to various social causes, a form of activism that has slowly but surely found its way into me. I am unapologetically obsessed with Bollywood, dancing around the kitchen as my coffee brews, as if I am living out a scene from my own film. While my identity is often compressed into neat boxes and reveals itself differently depending on the moment, I have finally come to realize that my identity, first and foremost, is tied to my politics. Those guiding values shape how I move through the world and explain why I analyze situations the way I do.

As politics evolve, I am intent on ensuring that my identity is not watered down for individuals who cannot take a moment to recognize that many truths can exist at the same time, that the French language is not under imminent threat. Immigrants, who will suffer the most as Quebec laws become increasingly focused on so called secularism and the French language, are also those who have tried the hardest to integrate into Quebec society. White passing individuals may not understand how much harder it is to be accepted, that the questions people of colour face on a daily basis have never been asked of them. That the odd looks at supermarkets are a foreign experience, yet all these questions, moments and looks have formed my identity.

It is those same looks that have my made me feel I need to hide certain parts of my identity, or water it down. I hope as the years progress, the voice within in me that is always ready for a witty reply also stands up against the subtle micro-aggressions more and more. While my skin colour is part of my identity, it is not a defining part of it. While I understand it is the first thing people may notice about me, I hope we move past assuming based on it.