I'm an Acadian at heart even if my accent marks me as an outsider

Sometimes one little word can make you feel like an outsider. 

I had been talking about the importance of defending Acadian rights with a francophone politician seated at my table during a social event. It was a great conversation that left me feeling prouder than ever of being Acadian. Alas, my excitement was quickly extinguished in the final seconds of our interaction. 

As he got up to leave, he asked me where I was from.

“I can’t pinpoint the accent. You say ‘faque’ like a Quebecer, but you also sound Acadian.”

Most francophones can uncannily pinpoint your place of origin with near military accuracy by the most subtle phonetic sounds. I had said faque (which translates to roughly "so" or "therefore") in a way that stood out to him.

I replied with my scripted, theatrical response: “I’m an anglophone so my accent is a hybrid creature sculpted by the many accents of my friends and educators who have helped me along the way.” 

And, in typical francophone style, his response was, “Oh wow! You have a great accent for an anglophone.” 

That backhanded compliment, whenever I get it, always leaves a bad taste in my mouth. 

Although I have been immersed in Acadian and francophone culture since I was five, my journey to find my place within it has been more complicated.

My hometown of Digby, N.S., is primarily an English-speaking community, but it has a French immersion program that goes all the way to Grade 12. 

My parents put me into this program because they believed learning a second language might open doors for me. While I didn't feel a strong affinity at first, something about the language and culture clicked when I was in high school and inspired me to pursue my post-secondary education in French. 

Before I knew it, my life was entirely lived in French. I went to a francophone university, so all my courses were taught in French and everyone spoke French on campus. I could order my tea at Tim Hortons in French and I could even play curling in my second language. 

This was a revelation: I finally got to experience French where it was just the way people naturally chatted rather than the controlled environment of a classroom. 

I got involved in more organizations that advocated for the French language, francophone culture and Acadian rights in Atlantic Canada and I soon was hired as a teacher in a French school. I started to feel the urge to call myself an Acadian — that's how strong my affinity was — but I didn't want to appropriate an identity.