In an earlier post about my family’s long history of living on both sides of the proverbial 49th parallel, I said “Often times the influence[s] a person experiences by living for a time in a different country are hard to quantify- beyond the ‘common wisdom’ that many Canadians spend time in the US to advance a career and have higher earnings. I’m unable to really articulate the impact my living in the USA for 30 years has had.”
With some time to reflect, I know that living down here (combined with the heavy masking I adopted from birth to survive) has included my accepting a society much, much different from the one I grew up in. Differences far deeper, far darker, far more destructive, than I allowed myself to recognize.
Familiarity definitely plays a part; not just the long family history of border-hopping mentioned at the very beginning of this post. I grew up in various towns around Ontario; from Toronto to North Bay to West Elgin. Only the last one was in range of US TV stations- either Detroit or Cleveland, depending on how the old-fashioned antenna was rotated. But all Canadian television and radio stations carried a large amount of US created media, despite Canadian Content requirements.
I acknowledge that there was plenty of evidence of those differences, and as a theoretically self-aware adult person, it was my responsibility to accept, change, or leave the world of violence behind:
Was I so burned out by my earlier life that I couldn’t go back?
Was it a fear of moving home early- a ‘failure’, unable to survive this place?
Was it the money (somewhat better, but I never really got on board the ‘greed is good’ train)?
Did I become like the proverbial frog, adapting to each subtle change until life started boiling over?
Perhaps a bit of each. The plan, when I moved down here, was to ‘retire back to S/W Ontario’ at some future point to join my siblings, niblings and grand-niblings. The uneasy feelings that would eventually lead me to start the unmasking process started even before I moved, but they certainly ramped up after losing my only attempt to build a Genuine Solid Career in 2008.
And is this place that much deeper and destructive than my homeland? I was queer-bashed twice in Toronto over a 12 year period. Earlier (1978) I was fired from my retail job after Coming Out in a small city’s daily newspaper. That’s all the personal violence that I recall (cf dissociative amnesia).
Yes, the list I share below has far more occasions than a good percentage of folks will ever experience. And sadly, far less violence than plenty of others live through. Is it precisely the median amount? I don’t know- but it’s certainly not so rare as to be astounding.
Much of the violence I’ve experienced down here is arguably not personal. Is that better? Let’s have a look: