Vanier Institute of the Family -- Virtual Library - Transition Magazine - Back Issues - Newcomers: Immigrant Families Adapting to Life in Canada

Despite some growth in cross-cultural understanding, Canada still has a long way to go before family research, policies and services truly meet the needs of Canadian families of all ethnocultural origins, especially those who are newcomers. Teachers, counsellors, social workers, physicians and other family-service professionals often find that a lack of comprehensive information on the family dynamics, expectations, customs and traditions of new Canadians makes it difficult to provide the best possible service to all children and their families.

One new source of information is a recent Queen's University survey of almost 2,000 adolescents, aged 14 to 19. A look at some of the findings offers insights into the views of young people born in Canada and elsewhere, on the topics of cultural heritage, and family relationships and values. The study found similarities but also broad diversity in the family-life experiences and perceptions of young people from different ethnocultural backgrounds.

The teenagers in the study responded to a questionnaire given to them at their schools—six public high schools in Vancouver and Toronto. As well, over one hundred participated in face-to-face interviews. The proportions of young men and young women were equal or almost equal except among the Latin Americans (60% males, 40% females). Almost all had been in Canada for at least two years. For the sake of comparison, we have divided them into six groups.

In the first five groups, the teens were either born elsewhere, or born here to immigrant parents. At the time they were surveyed, some were Canadian citizens; others were not. To simplify the presentation of the data, we have identified these young people by where they or their parents came from. Because the survey included teens from many different countries of origin, we grouped them into five broad geographical regions: "Caribbean," "Chinese," "East European," "Latin American," and "South Asian."

The sixth group included only the Canadian-born offspring of Canadian-born parents. (Some of these young people might have immigrant grandparents; the questionnaire asked only where they and their parents were born.) Again for the sake of simplicity, we called this group "Canadian."

Asked why they came to Canada, teenagers in the Queen’s survey cited reasons ranging from a change of government at home, to parents seeking greater economic opportunities in Canada, to avoiding the physical danger of conflict or war in their home country.

More than half of the teenagers speak a language other than English/French at home. Many translate for their parents at stores, banks and schools—a substantial responsibility for a young person who is also trying to maintain solid friendships and achieve at school. Many mothers and fathers of Chinese, East European and Latin American teens rarely or never speak English/French at home. Not surprisingly then, the parents of Chinese and East European teens are less likely than other parents to help their offspring with school problems.

The positive side is that adolescents generally value their heritage language, and many attend heritage language classes. Here are a few of their comments:

I'm two different people really. At school I speak English, at home I like to keep my Russian. (14-year-old female, born in Russia, 4 years in Canada)

My sister likes to speak a lot of English but [our] parents speak in Bulgarian because they are afraid [we] will forget it. (15-year-old male, born in Bulgaria, 1 year in Canada)

Punjabi is encouraged because parents don't want their children to lose the culture. (15-year-old female, born in Canada, parents from India)

Canada is such a multicultural society, especially in urban areas, that teenagers encounter other cultures constantly. With so many potential influences on their children, immigrant parents seem inclined to struggle harder than others to encourage their children’s appreciation of their own heritage. Compared to teens with Canadian-born parents, those with parents born overseas are at least four times more likely to report feeling this kind of parental influence.

My Dad says, "You are turning more Canadian every day¾ don't forget you are Macedonian." (15-year-old female, born in Macedonia, 7 years in Canada)

I take Russian traditional dancing now.… I love everything Russian...jewellery, things made in Russia.… I'm obsessed with it. (14-year-old female, born in Russia, 4 years in Canada)

We made a dance group to teach the community about Spanish dancing.… We do shows at schools, churches. (18-year-old male, born in Honduras, 6 years in Canada)

Since nearly two-thirds of South Asian teens report feeling parental influence in this area, it’s no wonder over four-fifths of them actually do value their cultural heritage.

About three-quarters of the teenagers in the Queen’s study say they have a happy home life (with variations ranging from fewer East Europeans to more Latin Americans). They also say they have their parents trust, and care what their parents think about them.

Even so, only about half of these teens feel that their parents understand them, and about one-third say their parents expect too much of them. At one time or another, nearly half (44%) of the participants have been frustrated enough with their parents to want to leave home.

Parents who do activities with their children are likely to reinforce the children's positive feelings about family. In this study, slightly more than half of the teens describe family togetherness events, with more South Asians doing so.

Differences between ethnocultural groups in the quality of the parent-teen relationship may result as much from different experiences related to their immigration as from different cultural values. For example, West Indian adolescents reunited with their parent(s) in Canada after a period of separation sometimes experience difficulties adjusting. They may bond strongly with their single-parent mother, but have little or no relationship with their father.

[I] only have a relationship with my mother... [I] find it very easy to talk to my mother and feel that compared to most of my friends, my relationship with my mother is pretty good. (16-year-old female, born in Trinidad, 15 years in Canada)

[We have a] very open and trusting relationship...close in age and so [we] are like best friends. [I] get a lot of support from my mom and the relationship is very nurturing. This has allowed me to be so successful in other areas of my life. (18-year-old female, born in Jamaica, 4 years in Canada)

[I] can talk about almost everything with my mother, except girls. (17-year-old male, born in Canada, mother from Jamaica)

Many Chinese teens live under strict rules and conditions, with limited contact with their parents. In some families, one or both parents work in Hong Kong or Taiwan. Even when both parents are in the home, it’s common for one or the other to work shifts, not seeing their children for a week at a time.

My father runs a watch factory in Hong Kong and comes to Canada occasionally. My mother is a housewife and takes care of us in Canada. I don't like this but my father has to work. (17-year-old male, born in Hong Kong, 2 years in Canada)

Father comes here once every two months. He owns his own company in Taiwan. Mother is here to take care of us. (17-year-old male, born in Taiwan, 1 year in Canada)

I see my parents at most a couple of times a year, but I talk on the phone to them two to three times a week. (16-year-old female, born in Taiwan, 1 year in Canada)

Adolescence can be a tumultuous time. Over two-fifths of teens in the survey differ with their parents about child-rearing and one-quarter of them argue frequently with their parents. Even so, over half would seek their parents’ advice on serious matters, although there is considerable variation in their comfort level with discussing sexual matters.

When I'm home, I don't like my mother to be home. I get along with her OK, we just get into arguments sometimes. I come home whenever I want, but she worries sometimes. I don't want that. I like my privacy, she's so curious, like if a friend calls, she asks them where they live, how old they are... She's scared that I hang out with bad people, but it's embarrassing. That's why I argue with her, it's stupid. I was doing drugs and stuff, she was scared. (17-year-old male, born in Lithuania, 4 years in Canada)

Yeah, I have a pretty good relationship with my parents, especially my Dad. If it's a health problem, I think I'll go to my Dad; personal problem I'll go to my Dad and friends; but if it is something I can take care of myself, I'll take care of it myself. (19-year-old male, born in Ecuador, 8 years in Canada)

We don't talk much...she did talk about birth control, I was really surprised. (17-year-old female, born in Russia, 3 years in Canada)

Mostly, if I have like a Dad-problem, I go to my Dad. But if there's a problem like a fight or something like that, I go to my Mom. She understands me better. (15-year-old male, born in El Salvador, 6 years in Canada)

Parents of all ethnocultural backgrounds want the best for their children and for that reason many parents try to influence their children’s academic decisions and even their career choices. About one in four Chinese and South Asian adolescents say their parents want to choose careers for them compared to one in twelve of the children of Canadian-born parents.

Nearly three quarters of all the teenagers say their parents expect them to go to university—from a high of 89% of the Chinese to a low of 45% of the Canadians. Whether or not these are realistic academic expectations for students who may or may not be doing well academically, about half the teens feel the strain of living up to high parental expectations:

This goes with Chinese parents. They want you to be some high level so that people will respect you. (18-year-old female, born in China, 5 years in Canada)

They say I am stupid, they want me to be a doctor, then I say okay because I don't want to make my parents unhappy. (17-year-old male, born in Hong Kong, 5 years in Canada)

Parents in other cultures¾ for example, Latin Americans¾ also want the best for their children, but are not as demanding about career preparation as the Chinese.

They always have expectations on the first born, but my first brother, right, it didn’t work for him, so everything came down to me. Basically, they want me to go to college, and they want me to be somebody. They want me to get a job. (18-year-old male, born in Honduras, 7 years in Canada)

Mainly what they look [for] is [for their kid] to be a doctor, lawyer, architect…but I don’t think I can go that far.... But I tell them I’m interested in computers and they say, "Oh, that’s good too," so they don’t mind. They want whatever I want. (18-year-old male, born in Nicaragua, grew up in El Salvador, 5 years in Canada)

There is a need in Canada for more understanding about the home life and parental expectations experienced by immigrant adolescents who are juggling the culture of their family with the culture outside the home. The results of the Queen's study do not provide all the answers, but they make a positive contribution towards enabling teachers, service and health professionals, and the larger community to understand and respond to the needs of the young people who represent Canada’s future.

This article is adapted from a longer report: "Study of Adolescents in Selected Ethnocultural Groups: School, Health and Home." The study was conducted by the Social Program Evaluation Group (SPEG) of Queen’s University, and funded by the Multiculturalism Program of the Department of Canadian Heritage. The report was written by Wendy Warren, Edith Samuel, Matt King and Jane Yealland, who are grateful to the many researchers who collected the data. Matt King prepared the survey analysis.

The full report can be obtained from SPEG, Duncan McArthur Hall, Queen’s University, Kingston, ON K7L 3N6.

Barbara Helm has an MA in Education and has taught immigrant children. She has also developed national parent education programs, and worked in partnership with organizations across Canada on citizenship participation programs for new Canadians. She is currently Senior Advisor with the Multiculturalism Program, Canadian Heritage.

Wendy Warren, EdD, is the coordinator of research for the Social Program Evaluation Group of Queen’s University, and senior author of the report on which this article is based. With a background in curriculum and program evaluation, Dr. Warren has coordinated the development of a number of cross-Canada projects. These include The CRB Foundation’s Canadian Heritage Learning Resources for grades 7 to 12; and the Council of Ministers of Education’s Skills for Healthy Relationships, a high school program funded by Health Canada.

"When looked at from an historical and sociological perspective, none of today’s concerns about immigration is new or alarming. Changing family patterns, values clashes, and generational tensions are all a part of the complex process of integration and always have been. Immigration is a dynamic and multi-generational process. It is the process on which our country has been built."

— Morton Weinfeld, with Kathy Eisner, Transition, December 1994

Why does Canada need immigrants?
From Statistics Canada, The Daily, June 24, 1998:

Is immigration a drain on the economy?
From Dr. Morton Weinfeld, the Metropolis Project*:

How easily do newcomers integrate into Canadian society?
From Dr. Morton Weinfeld, the Metropolis Project*:

Where do Canada’s newcomers live?
From Not Just Numbers: A Canadian Framework for Future Immigration, by the Immigration Legislative Review Advisory Group (Robert Trempe, Susan Davis and Dr. Roslyn Kunin):

How well do newcomers fare in the job market?
From Dr. Morton Weinfeld, the Metropolis Project*:

Do immigrant children do well at school?
From Dr. Morton Weinfeld, the Metropolis Project*:

What problems do newcomers encounter here?
From Ethnicity and Family Therapy, McGoldrick, Pearce & Giordano, editors:

What about immigrants, crime, and justice?
From Dr. Morton Weinfeld, the Metropolis Project*:

How do Canadians feel about immigration?
From Dr. Morton Weinfeld, the Metropolis Project*:

* From "A Preliminary Stock-Taking on Immigration Research in Canada," by Dr. Morton Weinfeld, McGill University’s Chair in Canadian Ethnic Studies. This overview of the literature looks at immigration from the perspective of six different disciplines. It appears on the Metropolis website (canada.metropolis.globalx.net/research-policy/wienfeld/preface_e.html).

American-born teacher Lee Weinstein talks about his interest in other people’s lives, and introduces us to some fellow immigrants from his literacy class in Surrey, BC.

When I was growing up near New York, I loved to take the train into the city. Once we crossed the river into Harlem, I would press my face against the window, look into all the apartments, and see a thousand private moments flashing by—the family sitting down to a meal, the couple relaxing on a fire escape on a hot summer’s day. Sitting in that train seat, I grew to be curious about other people’s lives.

Today, my work as a literacy teacher gives me a different kind of window on people’s lives. Every week I have the chance to witness the patience and determination that literacy learners bring to class, and I also see that, for many of them, the simple act of coming to class requires great courage.

I told the men and women who enrolled in my class last September that if they took the risk of discovering their voice in story, they would certainly become readers and writers. Most looked at me with the quizzical expression of the RCA dog looking at the phonograph, but they did decide to give it their best.

Because I wrote stories and letters along with the class, they saw me taking my own advice. Each week all of us arrived with stories or journal writings, and made copies for the class to read. After we had talked about the strengths and weaknesses of each piece of writing, the authors rewrote them.

The class grew into a small community of friends. Although we didn’t see each other outside of the course, we watched each other grow as individuals, parents, and partners as we shared our histories and present lives. Class time became a connecting thread in our week, and school became much more than a place to learn correct spelling or grammar.

One learner, Maureen, wrote faithfully for every class but, at first, her pieces were more journal entries than stories. They involved her daily activities or facts about her birthplace. She wrote in a linear one-two-three fashion, making it difficult for the class to discuss her work substantively.

Maureen had been in Canada for ten years. She grew up in Jamaica in a loving family, but they did not have the money to pay for a good education. In the Jamaican public school system of the time, students who could afford to give gifts to their teachers received more attention than those who could not afford gifts. In Canada, Maureen made it a priority to upgrade her education, especially her reading and writing.

When the class discussed Maureen’s pieces, her spelling and grammar attracted our attention with a gravitational pull. She wrote in a Jamaican voice, which was an inherent strength except that it caused her phrases and spelling to go the extra yard in defying conventional English usage. I felt we were giving Maureen nine parts grammar and spelling criticism to one part encouragement. I worried that she would give up and that I would not be able to find a strategy to affirm her strengths and experiences.

As the primary breadwinner for her mother and two teenagers, Maureen worked in a Vancouver hotel and rode the bus three hours a day. She came to class twice a week directly from work, without dinner. Always the first to arrive, she’d help me set up the tables and chairs in a circle. On one particular evening I had already arranged the furniture when she arrived, so we just sat and talked until the others got there. I mentioned that I had seen her daughter Megan at her high school.

As Maureen told me the story of Megan and their relationship, I was mesmerized. When she finished, I said she should write it down. This is the story Maureen brought to class the next week:

My brother’s name is Norman. We lived in Jackson Town about 40 miles from Montego Bay. Norman went to work in Montego Bay where he met this lady and they had a baby. Norman did not tell his mother or sister about the baby. One day this baby’s mother decided to take the child to Norman’s mother’s house. It was a big surprise to Norman’s mother, Etta.

The baby and her mother took the bus from Montego Bay and when she got off the bus she asked a boy if he knew where to find Norman Buchanan because this child was his baby.

The boy took the woman and baby to the Buchanan house and knocked on the door. He announced to Etta, "This baby is for you."

Etta told her to stay for dinner and that when Norman came home from work they would straighten it out.

When Norman came home, he looked in the window and saw who was inside with his mother. He wouldn’t come into the house for the longest time. He saw the woman and the baby, and went into a state of shock. When he finally came inside, Norman told his mother that the reason he hadn’t told her he had a child was that he thought she’d be mad at him.

When Norman’s sister Maureen came home from work and saw this baby, she fell in love with her on the spot. The baby’s mother wanted to leave the baby with the Buchanan’s for Christmas. In Jamaica, if you don’t have a baby in the house it isn’t really a home, so Etta said that she would take care of the baby.

The mother left and was not heard from again for 5 years. One day with no warning, she showed up and wanted her baby back. Etta told her no, that the baby was now 5 years old and had become part of the family.

Maureen, Norman’s sister, loved and helped raise the baby, Megan. Maureen went to Canada and left Megan with her sister Peggy. Maureen missed Megan so much that she went back to Jamaica and adopted her so that she could bring her back to Canada. Megan is now 14 years old.

I have spent the last twenty years asking literacy learners to write something meaningful, something important to their lives. Sometimes they get the message, sometimes they don’t. Maureen got the message. That day’s class discussion of her story was the first time we could acknowledge the fundamental power of her words and experiences.

We all have stories to tell, and by writing them down we are able to make sense of our experiences. For instance, many of us can tell stories about our homeland and our new life in Canada. My students’ writing is often very moving.

One woman wrote 500 pages over a two-year period because she needed to make sense of her journey to Canada. She left Vietnam on a small craft that was sunk by Thai patrol boats. Seven members of her family perished. She wrote because she needed to understand why she was the only one to make it. She says, "Coming to class is like going to church. My writing book is my priest."

I was moved too by the story of a factory owner from Taiwan. As a child, she wasn’t wanted by her parents—simply because she was a girl. At the age of seven she contracted small pox and her grandmother made her live in a shed so as not to infect her brother. She thought she would lose her mind from the fever. Her only comfort, she wrote, was watching the fireflies at night. Their magic helped her survive.

Over the years I have come to know many Canadians, immigrant and native-born, through their shared life stories. As you can see, I still have a great seat on the train.

Lee Weinstein is a Continuing Education administrator in the Surrey School District of British Columbia.

In her work with immigrant families in Quebec, Melpa Kamateros has seen the causes—and the sometimes-devastating effects—of social isolation.

One might assume that immigrants who have been in Canada for decades would necessarily be more integrated into Canadian society than the newly arrived. The reality is that many people in both groups live isolated lives, for a variety of reasons.

During the second largest wave of emigration from South European countries—in the 1950s until the mid-1960s—thousands of immigrants landed on the shores of Canada, most of them at Halifax. Many were girls as young as fifteen travelling alone to Ameriki, as they called both Canada and the United States. Here they hoped for a better life than was possible in their homeland, where they may have had no hope of marrying because their families were too poor to own land or provide a dowry.

Some immigrants formed attachments while on the boat coming to Canada, and some were sponsored by Canadian relatives who would watch out for them. But many had to fend for themselves, strangers in a strange land. There were no settlement services for people coming from these faraway lands, and no government-subsidized English or French courses. Most of the services now available to ease the lot of the immigrant and promote integration were non-existent then. Immigrants who desperately needed financial help turned to a church or benevolent women’s organization.

Employment opportunities for the women were usually limited to working as a domestic, or in the restaurant or garment industry. All too often, immigrants arriving in Canada during the 1950s suffered silently in an atmosphere of great discrimination.

The migration of this time was clearly of an economic nature. People arrived with a simple plan: they would work, make money and eventually leave. But they didn’t leave. Despite hardships, they stayed and raised their children here. For the most part, immigrant families have prospered. Many have bought property, and created businesses and jobs.

Although proud to be considered Canadian, they have maintained their ties with the homeland, and a surprising number have never learned English or French. Obviously anyone living in Canada who cannot speak either of Canada’s official languages will suffer some degree of social isolation, as is the case for many long-time residents, especially women. And, whether they are highly literate in their native language or have never had the chance to become literate in any language, if they lack the ability to read and write English or French, they will miss out on many opportunities to be informed about and involved in Canadian society.

Many immigrants who can’t communicate with the mainstream population around them often rely on their children to be their "social interpreters," a term initially used by sociologist Effie Gavakis in her studies on Greek immigrant families. Gavakis says, "Most of the children are used by the adults as their solo contact with … Canadian institutions." Depending on a child to be one’s only link to the outside world, as Gavakis observes, "redefines the role of the child." As well, I find that this dynamic may contribute to the parent’s social isolation—especially when the child grows up and moves away, leaving the parent without an interpreter.

Immigrant communities tend to keep to themselves, and get all their news from the ethnic media. When language difficulties are combined with a desire to hold on to homeland traditions, an immigrant’s cultural perceptions may remain exactly the same, year after year, as when they first arrived in Canada. Over time these views distance them more and more from the thinking of other Canadians, especially regarding issues such as sexual stereotypes, family violence, and women’s role in the family. Feminism is the "f" word in most immigrant communities, as it conjures an image of a dour and overbearing woman with no interest in having a family.

Immigrants who are both linguistically and culturally isolated are doubly vulnerable, making it difficult for them to access the information and resources they need. For example, a woman who cannot speak or read English or French may not be able to find out basic facts about education, welfare, family law, health, and other issues pertinent to her. In my experience of dealing with immigrant women who are victims of family violence, I find they have little knowledge of Canadian laws, or of the resources and options available to them.

Problems like family violence occur in every community of course, but in immigrant communities there is less disclosure of such problems. In part this is because of the popular belief that family problems should be kept private. This belief prohibits many immigrant women from seeking help from outsiders such as the police, women’s shelters, hospitals or social services.

Another reason family matters are hushed up is the fear of disapproval by authorities. No matter how long they’ve been in Canada, this fear of disclosure is part of the immigrant ethic for many cultures. A combination of fear and shame often keeps immigrant women from admitting they may need special services.

Immigrant societies do not open themselves easily to investigation. The idea of the right to privacy is much stronger than the idea that the state has the right to investigate the affairs of the individual. People do not want to answer to the law when family affairs run out of hand; nor do they want a social worker or Youth Protection officer in their home telling them what to do or perhaps even taking their children away. At our agency, when our family services workers contact immigrant family members they usually tell us in no uncertain terms that they do not want to talk to a social worker—mostly because they’re afraid of what this "meddler" might do.

When a woman does decide to go outside the family to resolve her problems, she may very well encounter resistance or criticism from other family members. Strong family ties within immigrant communities can be either positive or negative; the extended family can dramatically improve a negative situation or they can reinforce it. One woman I talked to whose husband was abusive had been told by her in-laws that if she left the house for longer than half an hour Youth Protection would take her child away from her. Another woman was pressured by her own brother to go back to her husband who was sexually abusing both her and her daughter.

When an anguished father called on behalf of his daughter who was being physically abused by her husband I asked him if he had ever confronted his son-in-law about the abuse. His answer was no; if he confronted his son-in-law he’d have to kill him.

Religion is another factor that affects the way people relate to their situation. If, for instance, they believe their fate is already decided, they will feel powerless to change things. This is particularly true for many women who feel trapped in abusive situations but who try to grin and bear it in the belief that such is their lot in life.

How can we help reduce the isolation felt by members of immigrant communities, and improve their access to health and social services?

Organized religion, if it publicly opposes social problems such as conjugal violence, can play a big role in helping immigrant communities bypass their fear of disclosure and obtain the services they need.

Service providers and community leaders can deliver awareness programs in the language of the target community in order to sensitize them about the issues and to inform them of available resources. Here in Montreal we used ethnic media—newspapers, and radio and television stations—for a violence awareness program that caused an immediate outpouring of telephone calls from victims of violence, and on behalf of victims from family members and other interested individuals.

Finally, all Canadians can help to break through the social isolation of their fellow citizens by developing an understanding of the cultural predispositions and tendencies that make it difficult for people in immigrant communities to look for help or to speak openly about their problems. We all encounter immigrant Canadians every day; they may be our neighbours or co-workers, or they may be clients in our work in family services, education, community work, or medical services. However we come into contact with each other, being culturally sensitive to the fear of disclosure can go a long way towards making an immigrant woman, man or child feel comfortable enough that eventually they may be able to ask for the help they need.

Melpa Kamateros is one of the founding members, and the Executive Director, of the Shield of Athena Family Services, a community-based social services agency serving families from Greek and other ethnocultural communities in Quebec. Her parents brought her to Canada from Cyprus when she was four years old.

What’s it like to be an immigrant in Canada? The answer depends on any number of factors: who you are; where you came from; why you left; whether you came alone or with your family; what languages you speak; how long you’ve been in Canada; whether you settle in the East or in the West, in a small town or in a big city; the services available in your community; and the attitudes of your new neighbours and co-workers. To a certain extent, "the immigrant experience" is as individual as the immigrant. These true stories about leaving home and learning to live in Canada were written by newcomers taking literacy classes in Saskatchewan and British Columbia.

When I came to Canada, I suffered from a shock because of frustration. I wanted to tell people about how happy I was to be in this country. But, on the other hand, my heart was also broken because I could not speak the language.

My family got sick. I wondered how to tell the doctor what kind of symptoms they were suffering.

My life became lonely, so lonely. I felt my loneliness was never going to disappear.

Now, after five years in Canada, I have the opportunity to learn English. I have a beautiful tutor who is teaching me how to write and read and also do math.

I hope it will help me to get away from this world of darkness. I hope it will help me to act better than before.

I came from central China. My husband is a student of the University of Regina. He has been here for three years now.

We have a three-year-old son. For some reasons I couldn’t bring him here when I came. He is in China. My parents take care of him. My husband hasn’t seen him yet, because our son was born after he left China.

Both my husband and I miss him badly. November 14^th was his birthday. We called long distance to him.

The first sentence he said to us was, "Mummy and daddy, come back soon, please. I have some pieces of cake for you."

We answered, "Thank you!", with tears. Our son asked us to buy a box of Lego for him. He told us he was a good boy. We promised him we would bring the Lego.

All of this made me homesick. During the night, I dreamed that I had met him, and played happily with him. We hope we can bring him here some day and he can stay with us together.

Recently we received some pictures of him. He has changed. He is much taller and stronger than he was when I left him.

At the time the terror started in Guatemala City, my husband was threatened. He saw his friend when strangers kidnapped him; next day those people went to his friend’s house to leave the body in front of the door lying down in his blood. They killed him without reason. My husband’s friend was a straight man. He was a director of a union where my husband was working.

… I arrived in Canada on April 12, 1982 at the Dorval Airport. …It was very cold. It was terrible for me and my one-and-a-half-year-old son, because we wore summer clothes. I remember my poor baby shaking in my arms. I hugged him and I was shaking too. We didn’t know about the weather in Canada.

My friend had just arrived at the Vancouver Airport. He followed the signs that lead to the Immigration counters. He stood in line and waited for an Immigration Officer. After a few minutes, he got his turn.

My friend took some money out of his pocket and he paid the officer. The officer was surprised and puzzled.

My friend was embarrassed because the sound was too close and he was nervous. That is why he jokes now, "My daughter is more expensive than my son."

Immigration obviously implies a change of massive, stress-producing proportions. Less obvious is the fact that people who come to Canada as adults have often lived through tremendous changes even before leaving their homeland. In these excerpts from an article called "Time and Changes" Carl Lin writes of the culture shock he experienced, first in Taiwan, and later in Canada.

As a witness, watching Taiwan develop from the ruins of World War II to an economic miracle, I have to adjust myself to the new current, like other Taiwanese under the influence of such a vast change. Both outer environment and people’s inner spirit are totally different from before. What used to be taken for granted, now seems to be ridiculous, and vice versa.

My maternal grandmother had very tiny feet, about three inches long. She had been forced to bind her feet with a piece of cloth to keep them from growing since she was little. Tiny feet kept her walking a small pace which people thought was attractive. Only the daughters of wealthy families could afford it because they didn’t need to work. Owing to the inconvenience of walking, my grandmother seldom went out. She didn’t even know how to get to the local train station all her life.

With this kind of cultural background, I have been struggling to face the impact of the new culture since I immigrated to Canada two and a half years ago. Although I am getting accustomed to it, I still feel astonished at what some people say and what they do. In this changing world, I wonder what it will be when I am 70 and whether I can deal with it.

I came to Canada 20 years ago, and I didn’t speak any words of English. I started working right away. My first job was working in a laundry. I worked with an older lady. She was nice and tried to teach me English. She would tell me to bring something from the storage room to the laundry. Many times I would forget the name of the product, and she would send me back till I did remember. It wasn’t easy but I learnt a few words. After that job I moved to another one because I was able to communicate with people.

After 20 years I am going to school to start to learn English in my old age. English is sure a hard language to learn.

I came to Canada three years ago. I did not speak English at all. I did not have a job and I did not have any friends.

I tried to find a job but it was impossible, because I was not able to understand even a simple question like, "What is your name?" It was difficult to make friends, because I did not understand the people and I was running away from them. Then I understood that the most important thing to adapt to in a new country is the language, or at least it was for me.

I went to school. After a few months I began to speak and understand English a little bit. It was not enough but I quit because I wanted to find a job. The reason was not because I did not like the school. I liked it very much, but outside school I still was afraid to talk to people and answer them, even when I understood the question. I was thinking that if I found a job, it could help me to get close to the people.

In no time I found a job. During the three years I have been here I have changed jobs a few times, and after each one I felt more confidence. Also, I continued to study English on my own. I have taken books from the library. Some of them I understood, and others I did not.

Another thing which helped me very much, was the friends which my husband and I have made here. A few friends have helped us to feel at home in our new country. They invite us to their houses and they visit us at our home, or sometimes we spend time together outdoors. We talk about simple things such as food, hobbies and customs. It was so nice to find friends on the other side of the world who do not speak your native language, who have a different culture and different customs, but who share the same interests as yours.

And now I can say that the language, the work, and the friends have helped me to integrate in the new country.

I know this is only the beginning, but I am ready to learn and work as hard as I can, because I want to make sure that I will never be sorry about the decision which I thought so difficult to leave my country and start again from the beginning.

As soon as we moved to Canada, the messages from afar usually comforted all my family. Every morning, about 10 o’clock, we waited for the letters and called it "Postman Hour." When the letters were dropped in our mailbox, my children used to run out to see the postman. Every time he left quickly like a wind, we only could see his backside. In our country, people are educated to show high respect to teachers, soldiers, and postmen as well. We wanted to meet him just to let him know that our whole family appreciated what he was doing for us.

One month later, at the season of maple leaves, when I was sweeping up the fallen leaves in the garden, the postman showed up. I introduced myself and expressed my family’s deep gratitude to him.

"I’m Terry Hames. Don’t be so polite, M’am," he answered a little bit shyly ….

When the footsteps of winter came, I started to go to school to study English. There was no more "Postman Hour" because everybody went to school on the weekdays. Once, on a snowy day in December, after coming back from school, we saw the huge footprints from the snowy driveway straight to our door. My children held the letters cheerfully and exclaimed: "It must be Mr. Hames!"

My goodness! He still worked even under the deep snowfall! We were touched so much!

I still remember the first day our family moved to Canada. It was a rainy day. …. The Vancouver airport…looked empty of passengers when we arrived. I wanted it to be more crowded so I would be warmer and less homesick.

When we went out of the airport, nobody greeted us except the rain and wind. We rented a car and drove to our new home; it was just an empty house.

When those of us born in Canada meet someone from another land, we often make assumptions about them. And we’re often dead wrong. For instance, we might assume that everyone from Hong Kong is wealthy. The assumption fits some Hong Kong emigrés but belies the hard reality of others.

We might also expect that two families, both from Hong Kong, and both operating restaurants in Saskatchewan at the time they wrote the following stories, would have had similar experiences before and after leaving their homeland. But, as these writing excerpts show, their experiences have been quite different:

When I was young, I lived in Hong Kong. Life was different there from how it is in Canada. My dad had two wives. The older wife had three sons and five daughters. The younger wife, who is my mom, had six daughters. I am the second oldest.

My dad had an electric company and wanted to have many sons to help with the business. He was disappointed when the sons did not arrive and this caused many problems. … We were very poor. …

I started school when I was five or six years old. Every day at noon, I would run the ten blocks to go home for lunch. Finally, my father did not pay the $5 a month to the teacher. I was nine years old at the time. I found a job making shoes in a factory at $1 a day.

The work was hard and the hours long, 3:30 in the afternoon to 11:00 at night, seven days a week. My uncle worked at the same place. He helped me a lot to learn the job. He also made sure I had a little food every day. My pay cheque went to my mom for food and clothes for my little sisters.

At the age of eleven, I found a job selling bread and buns. The people were very kind and friendly; the money was a little better, and I stayed there for about three years.

There was no time to think about the future. I just worked to earn money to help the family.

A few years after I was married, my husband and I moved to Canada. My husband and I set up a restaurant in Swift Current. We own it. Again, the work was hard and the hours were long.

Three years ago, I went back to Hong Kong for a visit. My mother is aged and my sisters have grown up.

My father now recognizes the value of his daughters. My parents are proud of me now and I was treated with much respect in my father’s house.

I am happy to live and work in Canada, and I am looking forward to being a Canadian citizen.

Hong Kong is a busy city. It has many factories, banks, offices, shops, parks and public libraries. It also has many trees and mountains. It is a very beautiful place.

Life was very happy in Hong Kong for us until we left in 1988. My husband enjoyed his job designing items for his factory. I enjoyed being a receptionist in a medical clinic. My mother had given up her job in a factory to take care of our sons. We were able to afford a nice apartment in one of the new high rises. We were able to send our two teenaged sons to an expensive British school where they received an excellent education. We could not get our eight-year-old son into a British school so he attended Chinese school until we left.

In Hong Kong, all children study English. Because I was born there I speak English. But, because my teachers in the government school were Chinese, I did not acquire a good accent. Our sons were taught by British teachers, so they speak English well. My husband grew up in China, so he learned no English at all.

My husband’s sister and her family sponsored us so we were able to come to Neilburg, Saskatchewan. My family in Hong Kong were thankful to know we would not have to live in a communist country after 1997. However, they also felt very sorry to see us go so far away.

It is difficult for us to adjust to living in a village. We are learning to operate a restaurant. We are afraid that is the only work we will find in Canada.

We do not like working seven days a week with not even freedom to have a holiday every year.

It is hard for us to be courageous in Canada’s dull, cold winter. Our apartment is cheap and very gloomy.

However, we know that even though life seems very hard now, we will put down roots and make a good life for ourselves later on. We can’t expect to find good jobs until we can speak English better than we do now.

I find myself worrying about our future. Our sons have made friends. They wish the standard of education was higher, but they enjoy school.

Our youngest son found jumping from Chinese school to grade 3 in Saskatchewan very frightening. He understands the English language better now and he is playing with Canadian children.

My husband spends all day in the restaurant kitchen so he has stopped trying to learn to read and write English. He is learning to speak it with help from his sister and sons. We wonder how other immigrants are adjusting to this strange country—Canada.

The stories and poems in Voices were all written for and by adults in literacy programs.

Shashi Assanand offers advice to parents who, like herself, emigrated from a traditional culture with values that sometimes clash with the Canadian way of life.

Immigration to Canada presents one of the most difficult challenges to parenting. How can we be effective parents when our survival needs are so demanding, family roles are continuously changing, and the extended family support we are so used to is no longer there?

Often in my work with families I have asked parents why they chose to come to Canada. The usual answer is "to have a brighter future for our children." A brighter future means a better education and, as a result, a financially successful and productive life. However, many people who choose to build their family’s future in Canada do not consider the effect that a different culture will have on their children’s lives.

As adults we are exposed to the new culture through acquaintances and colleagues, or through the media, but we still have the choice of not practising any of it if we choose not to. Do our children have a choice?

Children brought up in Canada are exposed to Western values from a very early age. Throughout their school years they learn values such as independence, individuality and making decisions for themselves—values that directly clash with those practised by South Asian people (people from the sub-continent of India). In the South Asian culture, individualism can threaten the existence of the extended family.

Since children learn Western values at school (where they spend the better part of their time), expecting them not to be affected by these values is a bit like throwing them into the ocean and expecting them not to get wet.

The complexity of value clashes increases during adolescence, a time of many physical and emotional changes. Parents typically describe this as the most difficult time in their relationship with their children. Besides the usual challenges of adolescence, the teenage daughter or son of immigrant parents has to negotiate a balance between the value systems of two distinctly different cultures. On one side they have parents who expect them to maintain their traditional cultural values, and on the other side there is tremendous peer pressure to conform to Canadian/Western culture. Conflicts between parents and adolescents become inevitable.

A breakdown in communication often compounds the conflict. The parent’s language of communication may be Punjabi, Hindi or one of the many South Asian languages, while the child’s primary language is English or French. Not only do the two generations communicate differently, they even think in different languages. The communication necessary for a good relationship has to be at both the mental and verbal levels. If a parent and a teenager think and speak in different languages, how can they communicate in a meaningful way?

When communication is poor between the generations of an immigrant family, the children cannot gain a proper understanding of their parents’ culture and values. In India, even if there is a lack of communication within a family, the whole environment is constantly teaching youngsters the concepts of South Asian culture.

In Canada, teenagers strive for their own identity. To achieve this they must separate from the parents’ identities to which they are attached. This is difficult to do alone, so attachment to peers becomes important. In this country it is normal for teenagers to prefer being with their friends rather than their families, but parents may see this as a rejection of themselves and their culture. They may also fear that their children will acquire bad habits from peers.

Parents in these situations sometimes exercise undue control. Adolescents in a rebellious stage of life seldom take this well, and may perceive parental control as a lack of understanding and love on the part of their parents. Pressure from parents to maintain family honour—the "What will people say?" mentality—is likewise not something youngsters can easily comprehend.

In the South Asian social system, teenagers do not need to go through a process of separating from their parents’ identities because their family is their identity. Society recognizes them by the family they belong to, so conflicts with their families are perhaps less common than in North America.

South Asian adolescents living in Canada go through the same stages of separation and individuation as the other teenagers around them. But, because their peers do not understand their family and social systems, it is important for our children to understand who they are in the context of their Canadian identity.

If parents do not understand this natural process that their children are going through, it is bound to create a serious crisis. In order to establish their own identity, children may reject their parents’ culture. Because of the lack of good communication with their parents, they may miss out on learning in-depth the values of our culture. Similarly they may lack in-depth understanding of Western culture because they have not been brought up with the norms of this culture.

Many of us come from an environment where the relationship between parents and children is one of ownership. Children must obey; they are to be seen but not heard. Parents make decisions regarding their children’s education, friends and marriages. Given that Canadian society teaches children values such as independence and individuality, how can they understand and accept an ownership relationship?

When values clash and conflicts occur, teenagers often feel powerless and victimized. They lack a sense of belonging to either culture, and their education—which we hoped would give them a brighter future—inevitably suffers. They long to break free of tradition, but at the same time they fear losing their family support. Feeling trapped, they may get involved with the wrong people, run away from home, or even attempt suicide.

We have chosen to come to Canada so that our children will have a better future, and we all recognize parenthood as the most valuable part of our lives. Why then do so many of our children become victims of such a fate? We may blame the influence of Canadian culture, but does this rationalization help solve the problem?

What can we do? It is very important that children learn their heritage language, but it is an absolute necessity that we, their parents, learn a Canadian language—the language our children are most comfortable with. We need to keep our minds open to the new culture our children are exposed to so that we can understand what they are going through. If we prejudge this culture we may slam shut the door of communication with our children.

Parenting courses are offered in most communities in Canada. Participating in a parents’ group—where parents share common concerns and learn from each other’s experiences—is also helpful. To resolve conflicts, seeking outside help as a family can make a difference. Your local family services agency is a good place to begin a search for help. If the agency doesn’t provide the specific service you’re looking for, they can probably tell you who does.

As parents, we need to find creative solutions to the difficult problem of helping our children make the most of their two very different worlds.

Shashi Assanand is the Executive Director of the Vancouver & Lower Mainland Multicultural Family Support Services Society. In 1974, she and her husband immigrated to Canada with two young children, having left Uganda as refugees two years earlier.

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