The Almanac ([info]pseudohistorian) wrote,
@ 2009-07-01 23:12:00
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Current location:Smack Dab in the Middle of the Blue
Current mood: inconclusive
Current music:The Weakerthans - "One Great City!"

Those Dreams Have Remained and They've Turned Around
Having spent the past couple of Canada Days dwelling on fictional Canadian pop stars and Heritage Minutes, I find myself thinking more this year about the vagaries of Winnipeg's specific identity...

Canadians are a needy lot to begin with, constantly depending on external validation to justify their own existence. A Canadian can achieve any form of success you can think of, but they haven't really made it until they've achieved that success elsewhere--usually in the United States.

We celebrate our actors and musicians only when they become American successes, and hold up our authors higher once they're noticed internationally (and often hold up authors as our own when they've moved here from elsewhere, or conversely have left Canada years ago). We don't even feel good about our music unless we can get Barack Obama to listen to it, and it turns out that living abroad actually makes you more Canadian. I agree that being worldly is never a bad thing, but the very fact that we have that back-and-forth debate--how much distance from Canada is enough, and how much is too much?--is quintessentially Canadian.

Winnipeg is a microcosm of that paradox.

Those of us in or from The Peg can be fiercely defensive of our city, and yet there's a part of us that never actually feels good until our feelings are backed up by people elsewhere. (Even the President Obama connection persists...hey, did you know the White House playground structure uses parts from a Manitoba company?) We're so desperate to prove that Winnipeg is incredibly cool that we'll compile a video montage of pop culture references just to show we "exist" outside our perimeter:


(What's that? They didn't seek out enough references? Don't worry, the same company made a second montage.)

I really do love living in Winnipeg and having it as my hometown. I like having people visit, especially in the summer, and I've defended my choice to stay here many times as I've watched the Brain Drain continue and others have argued that I should seek out greener pastures myself.

I can't help but wonder sometimes, though, whether I'm just doing that so I don't end up feeling like a townie.

There are certainly frustrations about Winnipeg culture, beyond the stereotypes about the weather. We seem somehow averse to any significant city development that isn't urban sprawl (as easily evidenced by comparing the Winnipeg skyline to the relatively nearby Minneapolis skyline, considering the latter's similarity in metropolitan population). Much like Hill Valley, once the big mall(s) was/were built out in the suburbs, all of the downtown business evaporated, and we've been unable to bring any vitality back to it, despite constant debates about how that might be done.

It must appear strange to outsiders when something that should be universally appealing, like a national museum devoted to human rights, is still met with complaints from some corners, and there are no less than four different unofficial websites devoted to transit issues in Winnipeg because we can't get Rapid Transit off the ground after decades of talking about it. I'm not sure who these people are, but they come out of the woodwork whenever anything at all is proposed in the city--even something as simple as a restaurant patio or the demolition of an unoccupied building--and complain until things either drag on for years or just stall completely, because some Winnipeggers can never miss an opportunity to miss an opportunity.

Things have gotten to the point now that the arrival of IKEA in Winnipeg is a huge news story--probably because we're just so surprised to see something like that actually going forward locally.

Winnipeg often lives in a culture of nostalgia, which is most likely the main reason this tendency crops up time and again. The city clings to the imagined glory days of the past, wanting to recapture that victorious feeling but somehow also feeling like any significant change to our landscape from what came before would take it away. The clash between this imaginary past and what some imagine for our future leads to a weird sort of stasis, even as we flock to YouTube channels devoted to old local television clips and perpetually pine for a return of the NHL to our market.

Remember how awesome we were back then?

Local artists are well aware of these contradictions, and Winnipeg's love/hate relationship with itself, as a lot of art that's about Winnipeg tends to explore these issues. Perhaps the most well-known recent example is Guy Maddin's My Winnipeg, where Maddin literally creates a mythology out of the city's history, but any time Winnipeg plays itself, there's a constant struggle with the past--how to get away from it without letting go, how to reinvent yourself without leaving the city--and all forms of art that come out of here show evidence of these things we can't stand about Winnipeg but feel are intrinsic to our identity.

We're constantly encouraged to speak up and invite people back, all while we talk about these mixed feelings amongst ourselves, with no true resolution in sight.

I'm from here and I have no idea what the answers are, as I struggle with all of these issues myself on a personal level--the lack of anonymity, the inability to get away from your past, the concern that your ambitions can only be fulfilled by moving away, the knowledge that you'll eventually run into your ex at the worst possible moment because there are only ever two degrees of separation around here. Obviously, I'm one of the many people willing to bitch and moan and sing the praises of Winnipeg, all at the same time.

I know that Winnipeg will always be a part of me, but is that really all there is to this city?




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[info]ret4rd
2009-07-04 05:42 am UTC (link)
Thank you for this post. You captured and enunciated something I had been feeling for some time.

This morning I watched the Sigur Ros film "Heima" - the Icelandic band returns home and plays a series of free, unannounced concerts. It's an exploration of being at home in an out-of-the-way place, finding success externally, and returning to give something back. (It's an astonishing film, by the way.)

I found myself wishing I was from Iceland because it was at least place with its own identity, any kind of home to be proud of. What an awful, embarrassing thought - like somehow my own personality defects can be blamed on a derelict city.

Two things I can share about leaving Winnipeg: the first is that it gets harder and harder to go back, even for short visits. The thought of it almost causes an anxiety attack. (Well, maybe most people feel that way about their hometown.) This means you miss seeing those that are still there - like yourself - and that regret actually feeds the detachment.

The other is that, in over ten years living and working abroad, I have met exactly one person from western Canada (specifically Saskatchewan). I have never met another Manitoban.

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[info]pseudohistorian
2009-07-04 08:29 pm UTC (link)
Thank you for commenting...I had no idea you've been reading the blog! How long have you been checking things out here?

Your thoughts vis-à-vis Heima are really interesting, both because of the large Icelandic population here (so a lot of Manitobans are also "from" Iceland, in a sense) and because from the Winnipeg perspective, you're considered a success story (you "made it out"), but you sound reluctant to "give something back" in the same way as the band.

In light of how you feel, do you ever find yourself reluctant to "admit" you're from Winnipeg? I've encountered both ends of the spectrum from people who've moved away--those who are eager to assert their Winnipeg roots and those who cut all ties to the city the moment they leave.

What do you think is the source of your anxious detachment? Sometimes, it seems like Winnipeggers have a bungee cord connecting them to the city, so they can never quite get away...is that why there aren't more people from the prairies out in the world? Does your cord snap if you actually stay away past a certain threshold of time?

I know, so many questions...

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[info]ret4rd
2009-07-05 06:34 pm UTC (link)
I'll try to answer in order. First, somewhere post-Serenity but way pre-Star Trek.

Leaving a city is a terrible way to measure success! I would have moved to California years before I did, had I realized the following important fact:

You do not need to wait for an invitation. You can just go.

Well, that's obvious, right? Intellectually, I always knew that. But somehow, subconsciously, going someplace to look for work was just "not done" by folks like me. It was a while after I moved before I realized I even had this irrational internal barrier.

I have also observed the spectrum you describe - it's not limited to folks from the prairies. I find the notion of hiding your past kind of bizarre, but then I also feel that way about noisy pride. Being from Winnipeg (or wherever) is not something I did, just an accident of birth. So, I definitely don't hide it, but I don't feel compelled to broadcast it either.

Which is similar to how I feel about the notion of "giving something back". I have no more intrinsic motivation to give something to Winnipeg than to, say, Edmonton. Or Timbuktu. It's a totally separate issue that the city doesn't seem particularly able to identify what it wants or needs.

In a related topic, do you ever find the UM alumni stuff at all compelling?

All of this makes it sound like I'm just a low-affect depressive, but that doesn't reconcile with how I feel about...pretty much everything else in the world. Somehow I just broke this particular bungee, and it did not take long at all. Within a few months abroad, I knew that I had no motivation or compulsion to return "home".

Woops, almost missed a question. My guess is that people from the prairies have the same mobility as anybody else. The reason they seem rare in the world is simple math: it's a huge world and there are only a few million of us to draw from. It is, in a way, an antidote to the need for external validation: there is no rational reason to expect any kind of recognition or visibility, the cringe-worthy youtube quote reel be damned.

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