Do you know what’s embarrassing? Watching a sex scene on a plane.
I can’t think of anything more mortifying, except for icebreakers at the beginning of an online writing workshop. Especially in English. Those are the worst. I become so self-conscious about my French Canadian accent, have no clue what to say about myself and “what I’m working on” and zone out the entire exercise while my armpits tingle.
I don’t know why I panic. Actually, I do. I’m so afraid of sounding like an imposter. I get so nervous I forget basic words. I worry there is no space for me and my Québécois-ness in the anglophone literary world. I keep rereading this last sentence and it sounds insane. Nothing has ever happened, every writer I’ve met in the English-speaking literary community has been kind and generous and has never asked me to prove anything. These issues are all mine, baby.
Accent shame is a weird shame to have. I feel no shame about being a francophone. I love speaking French. It’s such an integral part of who I am, of my identity. What language do you make love in? For me it’s français.
When I returned to Québec over the Holidays after several months abroad, the first thing I did was burst into a pharmacy (in this case Familiprix) and yelled “ELLES SONT OÙ MES PATCHS KARINE JONCAS? Y M’EN FAUT ABSOLUMENT!”1 while my embarrassed son begged me to shut the fuck up because I was too loud and theatrical. Oh, how I’ve missed my fellow francophones while living in the UK. And it’s only been five months!
On paper I think I’m great and have so much to offer, but in real life I spend too much time worrying about other people’s perception of me (except when I’m jet lagged). It feels more comfortable to cast a shadow on all the things that make me different than to be proud of them.
I live my life always assuming the worst: bad things will happen, the other shoe will drop, everyone is mad at me, this bump is definitely a tumor and who was I to think that I’d get to make all my wildest dreams come true. So of course I assume everyone will make fun of me. It’s exhausting. ZzzzZZZzzzzZZzzzZZZz.
Do you know what I love about living in London apart from cheap plane tickets to Europe? Everybody has an accent here. It’s refreshing. London is such a diverse city. There are so many immigrants here, and most of them have an accent because they speak several languages. It’s strange to write this, but I’ve never felt more at ease with my French Canadian accent since moving to the birthplace of the English language.
What would my life look like if I didn’t care what others were thinking? One thing’s for sure. I wouldn’t be embarrassed to watch And Just Like That… on a plane.
For my non-francophone readers, this translates loosely as "Where are my favourite eye patches made by a lady I’ve never seen or heard of except in the cosmetics aisle of my neighbourhood pharmacy? I absolutely need to buy 20 packs before returning to the UK.”
Your newsletters always make me smile dear Michelle! Merci beaucoup! Also, your topics and autobiographical incidents are very often "serendipitous" i.e. what you are writing about and what is going on in my life at the time that I am reading your essay often concur. It's not the first time that I have commented on that.
This time, in "The Most Embarrassing Thing", it's about the Karine Joncas patches. (Très drôle, en passant !). Earlier today, a good friend of mine was telling me about the puffiness under her eyes. In fact, she will be seeing a specialist tomorrow. So, as I was reading your essay, I wrote to that friend about the Karine Joncas patches in your newsletter.
I imagine that the patches are for your eyes. I also thought about the Elderflower Cooling Gel from the Body Shop, or was it from Marks & Spencer when the store was still opened in Ottawa in the eighties and perhaps nineties? Since that friend lives in a mainly English-speaking community in Northern Ontario, I doubt that she will have the nerve to walk into a pharmacy and to yell "where are my Karine Joncas patches?!" like you did! Ha! Ha!
Ah oui ! Happy New Year to you as well! I heard that we have until the end of January to wish someone a happy new year. It is a French TV quiz show host who made this remark. (Du pays où l'on entend "ça se fait" et "ça ne se fait pas", c'est-à-dire à cheval sur le formalisme et l'étiquette !)