Having spent my life dissing the French, I have unveiled a deep and dark secret about our family ancestry.
We are French.
This is the case for many Canadians as the country was first settled by the French. It wasn’t until the English lost the US colonies and Napoleon was mildly distracted in Europe with bigger issues that a more ‘progressive’ Anglicization of Canada began.
Our family starts its Canadian journey in the late 1700’s. My great great great grandfather was known as ‘The Frenchman’. His birthplace records have not been located but it is believed he was from St. Pierre and Miquelon (FR), two tiny islands south of Newfoundland, by way of Southern France.
He married an English woman, known as the ‘Mother’ of our Canadian family. She must have ruled the roost as the family was raised Anglican, with a very strong Anglo-Saxon bias. There is a remote possibility that he was a Huguenot, but this is highly unlikely.
Together, they started what I believe is one of the largest families to come out of Newfoundland. 300 years later and there is a legacy of 850 descendants. That’s a lot of fucking.
Though I am subtly distraught at having French heritage, I am quickly coming to terms with it. I am attempting to reconcile it with some of my experiences. Our family is dark haired and dark eyed, and we tan like Adonis. I love wine, food, seduction, and love making, and I am often spoken to in local tongue in the Med. It’s a good start.
With my new found heritage, I shall take license and become even more arrogant and rude. After all, I am French.
Vive la famille.