Idunno, Bud.

Well…I know I’m not American.

It’s our standby, canned response, isn’t it? It’s not terribly specific or clear, and as we face our current circumstances and get existential about our politics and our economy, I’m trying to figure out why our identity can seem a little murky and undefined.

It’s possible Canadians secretly kind of like playing loosey-goosey like this. One of the benefits of being “the quiet one” of the bunch is that you get used to having your space, of not having to fully explain. There are miscellaneous bits and pieces we’re happy to share about ourselves. We like hockey and maple syrup. Our landscapes are pretty. We’re comfortable with universal health care, gun control, and a handful of legalized fun substances. It’s cool that we have a reputation for being kind, peaceful and tolerant (even if we aren’t always things to each other).

But we don’t feel the need to go beyond this. It’s kind of like we’ve got a secret handshake. As far as we’re concerned, if you know, you know, and if you don’t…well, you’ll figure it out on your own. Or not. Whatever.

It's also possible that a huge part of our identity sits in a tacit commitment to not commit. Maybe it’s true that we don’t know exactly who we are, not yet, maybe not ever. I like to think of Canada as a work in progress, an idea that we’re still workshopping, 14,000 years after humans set foot here (yeah no, we aren’t as new as many think we are). Canadian identity has an ellipsis at the end of it.

Think of all the ways that having blanks to fill in (or leave blank) has helped us as a nation. Because we aren’t finished yet, we can admit when we screw up (and we have a list of screw-ups in our history, some of which we’re still trying to fix). We can admit when we don’t know and keep seeking answers. We don’t need to be super competitive as we explore and experiment, and we can be genuinely curious about how things are done in other parts of the world. We don’t have to be number one as we grow. We can be nimble, responsive to change, and innovative. We can stop thinking that we’re broken, and just see that we aren’t finished. It takes the pressure off, doesn’t it?

Canadian philosopher John Ralston Saul reminds us “Canada is the oldest continuous democratic federation in the world. Continuous.” He admits, as most Canadians probably would, that we aren’t perfect. We butt heads and we struggle with each other, but we’re still here, picking away at things, figuring things out. I can’t help but think that all the question marks dotting our identity have helped us with the “continuous” stuff.

Comedian (and hence also philosopher) Mike Myers recently pointed out “I challenge, in the history of nation states, to find another country that’s tried to get it right as much as Canada has….And just even the act of trying to get it right is the right thing to do.” The ongoing effort is who we are, regardless of whether we’re there yet.

I don’t want to downplay the crises in which we find ourselves as a country. I too am taking deep breaths and trying not to panic. I’m also taking the opportunity to think about what it means to be a part of this country, how I answer when someone asks what it means to be Canadian. It doesn’t bother me that there are facets of that question that I can’t answer with certainty. I don’t want to. I feel exceptionally proud that there we don’t have just one official language, that there isn’t a typical Canadian cuisine, that our art and culture encompass just about everything. There are things about us that need fixing, no doubt, but I can’t help but wonder if digging in our heels might make that much more difficult.

We’re so quick to assume that being amenable to change, to being undecided and still forming gives the impression of weakness. It’s so tempting to lean into descriptors like “strong”, “steadfast” and “solid”. We are strong because we are agile, because we don’t stubbornly cling to just one ideal.

When asked who we are, I want to be able to answer with more than just not this or that, but I also want us to feel proud that we’re a place in flux, a nation of seekers and explorers and questioners. I don’t want the ink to be allowed to dry entirely. I love and cherish the unwritten parts of our story.