This is a post that I had originally published on Medium on July 6, 2021. It has since fallen behind a paywall and so I am republishing it here.
Last night, while so many in the city were perched on sofas, watching the Montreal Canadiens avoid elimination from the Stanley Cup Finals, I opted to walk to the Detroit River and catch the sunset.
The last time I had watched the sun descend below the Detroit skyline was three years ago, when my family and I were sitting on lawn chairs among a throng, waiting for it to get dark enough for the Ford Fireworks to begin.
This was the second year in which the bilateral fireworks display had been relegated to a secret location so it could be seen only from the safety of one’s living room. As such, it seems that this year there was a much larger than normal enthusiasm for setting off consumer fireworks to celebrate July 1st and July 4th, respectively.
I cannot tell you how many people set off fireworks in school yards and abandoned lots in Windsor, Ontario because this year, I spent July 1st on the coast of Lake Huron, visiting family. My parents live in Sarnia, which is just upstream from the Aamjiwnaang First Nation. And it took me some time to find sleep during my visit because as soon as the sun set, families in the neighbourhood set off fireworks.
I remember that in 2017, there was a significant number of activists on my socials, demanding Canadians reconsider its genocidal legacy instead of celebrating Canada’s 150th “birthday.” But that widespread reckoning of the horrors of our nation’s past didn’t happen until this year, when the unmarked graves of hundreds of indigenous children were confirmed. Those Canadians who had refused to read the reports of The Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, could no longer ignore this documentation.
This made for an extraordinary Canada Day this year. As I walked in my parents neighbourhood, I saw houses with Canadian flags at half-mast and orange signs in bedroom windows that read, Every Child Matters. And I saw evidence of the reaction to the reaction: a small lawn sign angled so that it could be read by passing cars: Unapologetically Canadian.
On Canada Day, my family opted to make our way to the Lake Huron shore and watch the sunset instead of fireworks. There was some cloud cover and a strong wind, but the piercing orange light was still a magnificent sight.
When we drove home, we passed a collection of families with several wagons of fireworks, settling down by the side of a city park. There were many small children who were visibly giddy with the prospect of the show to come. There may have been a 7-year-old, 8-year-old, 9-year-old, 10- and 15-year old among them.
I have to admit, it unsettled me to see these families celebrate Canada Day with fireworks. But then I reconsidered what was happening. Maybe these families didn’t love Canada Day. Maybe, like so many of us, these people just love fireworks. It’s just that our nation state have created laws, that they enforce, that regulate exactly when fireworks are allowed to be set off that coincide with events that they want to be celebrated.
And to me, the overwhelming evidence that this is the greater truth is betrayed by the fact that where I am from, there are only three holidays in which fireworks can be set off: New Year’s Eve, Canada Day, and Victoria Day.
You cannot tell me with a straight face that my province celebrates Victoria Day with fireworks because of our collective love for Queen Victoria.
And maybe we shouldn’t.
