LIVES IN CHANGING CONTEXTS: A LIFE HISTORY ANALYSIS OF LATVIAN-CANADIAN WOMEN'S STORIES ABOUT BEING LATVIAN
A thesis submitted in conformity with the requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy Graduate Department of Education University of Toronto
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llze Arielle Ma- De ree of Doctor of Philosophy Gra8 uate Department of Education University of Toronto 1998
Abstract
This study examines how changing contexts impact on people's lives. The purpose of this study is to document the life history experiences and perspectives of second-generation Latvian-Canadian women in the wake of the disintegration of the Soviet Union, Latvia's regained independence. and We end of the Latvian community in exile era in the West; and to present a contextual analysis of these life histories.
The life stories of the six women presented in this study provide a rich tapestry of individual experiences of growing up Latvian in Canada, living in two cultures, and adapting lives in changing contexts. These stories reveal the diversity of the lived experiences of women from socially and culturally similar yet different backgrounds. The life history analysis of the stories explores the impact of changing social-political contexts on their lives. The contextual analysis of the themes which emerged from these stories gives insights into the shared experiences of the participants, illustrates the complexity of living in more than one culture, and brings into focus the important role that familial, social, historical, political, cultural, and psychological contexts play in understanding lives. The common threads weaving through these sh stories are explored under the following common themes: Where ICome From and My Inherited History; Who Am I? What Does "Being Latvian" Mean?; Leading a Double Life and The Awareness of Difference; Finding My Place and Facing Challenges within the Latvian Communiiy; My First Enounter with Latvia and My Relationship with Latvia Now; Where Do I Belong? and Where is Home?
The universal themes which emerged in this study are the conscious and the hidden legacies of inherited history; the multiple layers of us and them struggles and conflicts in the West and with the homeland; and the powerful impact of losses and gains on the intra-personal, the inter-personal and societal relationships, and how all of these come into play in changing times and contexts. These themes reflect the interconnected undercurrents which add to the complexity of our perspectives and experiences. Furthermore, they suggest potential lenses through which to interpret and bring insight to people's experiences in other cultures and other contexts. Acknowledgements
I would first of all like to acknowledge my thesis supeMsor Dr. Ardra Cole, and my committee members Dr. Patrick Diamond and Dr. Grace Feuewerger for leading me to the successful completion of my doctoral thesis.
Ardra, thank you for being you, for inspiring, guiding and supporting me on this life history journey, and for challenging me to be my best. Your friendship and bdief in me gave me faith and energy to move forward.
Grace, thank you for introducing me to narrative work, and providing me with the invitation to begin writing my own life story. Patrick, I truly appreciated your suggestions, and thank you for introducing me to the challenge and responsibility of giving voice.
I wish to give spedal recognition to my fellow travellers llga, Ingrfda, Laimdota. MBra, and Valeska, who made this life history study possible. Thank you for trusting to join me on this challenging joumey of reconstructing the stories of our lives.
I feel very fortunate to have such a wonderful family and many friends who have enriched my life. I am most grateful for the love and support which you have given me. Dad, thank you for being there for me in times of special need. Mom, thanks for nurturing me, for helping me to move forward on my joumey, and for our special times together in Bancroft.
Most of all I want to acknowledge my husband and friend, Andris, and our children, Emils and Marisa. Thank you for patiently hanging in there, allowing me to make time and space for my work, and for joyfully celebrating the successful completion of this journey with me. Thank you for the love, happiness, and fun that you bring into my life. Home is where my heart is, and that is with you!
The pilot interviewing for this research was partially supported by a research grant f mm Pasaules BnVo Latviegu Apvienfba (the World Federation of Free Latvians), and by an Ontario Graduate Scholarship. For my children Emils and Marisa - this is part of your inherited history TABLE OF CONTENTS .. Abstract ...... 11 Acknowledgements...... iv Dedication...... v Table of Contents...... v i
Prologue: Reflections on the 1992 Winter Olympics...... 1
1 . Beginning the Journey ...... 3
1.1 Introduction to the Study of Lives in Changing Contexts...... 3 1.2 Searching for the Question...... 5 13 Historical Context for the Study ...... 8 1.4 Pilot Interviews ...... 12 1.5 Encounters with Narrative and Life History...... 15 1.6 The Evolution of Methodology...... 16
2. The Co-creation of Stories Over Time ...... 17
2.1 Methods of Inquiry: Narrative and Life History...... 17 2.2 The Study of Lives in Changing Contexts...... 23 2.2.1 Finding and Working With the Storytellers ...... 23 2.2.2 Sources for the Participants' Stories ...... 26 The interviews ...... ~...... 27 Keeping journals ...... 28 Wlitten correspondence...... 28 Forming Relationships and Gathering Narratives ...... 28 lngrida .negotiating boundaries ...... 29 Mara - telling her story from a distance over time ...... 31 Laimdota - a new chapter in her life, another story to tell ...... 32 Valeska - parallel journeys ...... 33 llga - re-creating the story of her life ...... 35 llze - locating myself in the research...... 36 2.3 Processing the Research Materials. ..l...... m...... 38 2.3.1 Issues Arising in the Research Process ...... 38 Language. translation. and voice in narratives ...... 38 Researching the personal in a small community ...... 39 Ethical issues ...... 40 Storing the Research Materials ...... 41 Description. Presentation. and lnterpretation ...... 42 Description of the context ...... 42 Presentation of the stones ...... 43 Interpretation of the participants' nanatives...... ,., ...... 46
3. The Context for the Stories ...... 49 . . Concepts of Ethnic1ty...... mm...... m...... m...... 49 Intentionality. Culture and Personal Meaning ...... 53 Introducing the Storytellers...... 55 Ingrida ...... 55 Mm...... ,....., ...... 56 Laimdota...... 56 Valeska ...... ,.,...... 57 llga ...... 57 llze ...... 58 Representing the Community Contexts ...... m...... 58 Fam~llal...... 59 ...... Historical. Pol&. cal ...... 59 Social. Cultural ...... 66 Educational...... 73
Youth Movement...... ,.., ...... 76 Introducing the Stories ...... 80
vii 4 . Searching for Meaning: hgridals Story ...... 82
images from my chi/dhood...... 82 where being Latvian made sense ...... 85 parts. particles - why I can't take part ...... 87 Waiting for Godot - the absurdity of it all ...... 89 bmshes with Latvia ...... 90 two years later ...... 92
Commentary ...... 94
5 . Forging My Place in Latvia: MErals Story...... 95
growing up truly Latvian ...... 95 discovering Latvia .the adventure begins...... 97 no longer a guest .finding my place in Latvia ...... 99 can an outsider become an insidkr?...... ,, ...... 100 who am I becoming? - where am I heading? ...... 102 looking into the fcRure ...... 104 postscript ...... 105 p~st-p~st~~ript...... 106
Commentary ...... 108
6. The Cosmopolitan Missionary: Laimdota's Story ...... 109
growing up a cusmopolitan Latvian .. turning points...... 110 why am I going to Latvia? .it's now or never ...... 113 missionary of western values .. "besser-wessi"...... 114 what do I expect? .I am not "going back home" ...... 115 a year later .coming towards my destiny ...... 117 another year later ...... 119
Commentary ...... 120
viii 7 . Working Through Inherited History: Valpcka's Story...... 121
childhood memoties ...... ,...... 122 when you inherit history ...... 127 history. dislocation. exie - what am I renegotiating? ...... 130 worla'ng through imap...... 131 the journey continues - where is my place? ...... 133 postscript ...... 135
Commentary ...... 136
La Loba .. Women Who Run with the Wolves...... ,...... 137 looking &a& on the trajectoty ...... 137
political a wakening Do a stepping stone ...... 140 re-creation - seeking out old bones ...... 1 43 . . meeting a fellow spmt ...... 144 where is my place? ...... 145 postscript ...... 147
Commentary ...... 148
9. Negotiating a Thesis; Renegotiating Identity: l/zels Story...... o..o...... o.... 149
metaphor= navigating. negotiating. renegotiating...... 149 negotiating a thesis ...... 150 growing up in a Latvian family ...... ,...... 1SO encounters with Latvia...... 154 renegotiating identity ...... 158 10. Lives in Changing Contexts: Emerging them- ..., ..,...... 164
10.1 Where I Come From and My Inherited History ...... 164 10.2 Who Am I? What Does "Being Latvian" Mean? ...... 167 10.3 Leading a Double Life and the Awareness of Difference...... 172 10.4 Finding My Place and Facing Challenges Within the Latvian Community ..... 177 105 My First Encounter With Latvia and My Relationship With Latvia Now ...... 181 10.6 Where Do I Belong? Where is Home?...... m..mm....m...... m... 189
1 1. Interpretation of Lives in Changing Conteas...... 195
11. 1 Inherited History ...... ~...... m.m...... m...... 196 11.2 US and mrn ...... 199 11.3 Losses and Gains ...... 203
12. Revisiting the Study of Lives in Changing Contexts ...... 208
12.1 The Study of Lives in Changing Contexts...... 208 12.2 Implications and Future Directions...... 212
Epilogue: Reflections on the Journey ...... 214
References ...... 216 Appendix A Pilot Interview Guide: Themes and Questions...... 225 Appendix B Life History Study Interview Guide ...... 228 Appendix C Letter of Consent ...... 230 Appendix D Significant Moments in the History of the Republic of Latvia...... 231 Prologue: Reflections on the 1992 Winter Olympics
I watched the Otympic opening ceremonies on Saturday morning. This was the first Olympics since W. W.11 that the Baltic sbtes of Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania had been able to compete as independent countries under their own flags. This was going to be an exciting and meaningfvl moment, I knew that before hand. As I watched the firsf athletes rnari into he stadium - mnying their flags, representing their countries - for a moment, I onEy felt the excitement of what we, usually, all feel at the beginning of these games. 7his is an important wotldwide event. Pafl of me also realized, oh yeah, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania (really 'Igaunija," YaiviiaW,and f ietuva") should dso be coming on soon.
The burst of emotion, my eyes swelling and gushing with tears of both joy and pain, as the Estonian Olympic team was seen coming into the stadium, took me by suvrise. This was an incredible moment. I have a hard time pulling together everything that it represented for me. The joy, of course. was that they were all there. That they were able to be there.
The pain was larger -- I'm not sure if it was larger than me joy or what I expected. 1 think, no, I feel that the pain was larger than I had expected. Thoughts intruded. First, the hardship that these countties were now enduring. Wow, it probably took a lot for them to get their uniforms together. My own experiences, observations, and images of Latvia came to mind. I wondered about the quality of their nutrition during this winter. The Soviet regime valued their athletes and artists. 1 wondered how much the current governments could now support and help them. In the pain is also Me anger of what the Soviet regime has done to our Fatherlands.
For me the experience had a number of, no many, contexts- It grabbed feelings and thoughts from many inner and outer levels and layers. mere is this incredible pride I feel. This country that once most, then many, and now fewer people had never heard of was now once again holding its rightful place in the Olympics, in the Worid. 1 think that last sentence alrea* refers to my feelings about Latvia more than Estonia. It's close to the heart. At some level I felt a real connection, a sense of belonging. At another level I felt a disconnection, and a powerful, desperate sense of being different. Hmm, part of the pain. I also felt sorry for the athletes, but really for the people they represent. Why? Because of the hardship I project onto them. Then I think that they would be appalled at my thoughts and feelings. 7hey must feel incredible pride and sense of accomplishment. What a feat. As I wrote this, I was mostly thinking about Latvia.
Guilt - my life and theirs - I'm not sure.
I dried my eyes, blew my nose, and regained my composure. We had already flipped between the French and English CBC stations to by-pass the commercials. I was watching the opening ceremonies again when onto the screen came our little Latvia ("miku mazZ Lava") Well here we go again, closer to home now. I felt all of the above. But now I think I really feel this pride. I think that at some level this is still all so unbelievable. Gennany is reunited and competing together. These fragments still continue to burst within me unpredictably.
h contrast. it almost feels like the announcers have numbed out. They don't grasp this. They say it, but it doesnY sound like they feel it. A doesnY resonate for them in the same way. My tears pouring again, I choke them back with a laugh. Loosen the tension. Breathe. Sigh. I exchange some thoughts about this with my husband. The opening ceremonies continue.
The historical events, which began with Gorbachev's policy of aglasnost" and "perestroika" and that led up to Latvia's declaration of independence in August 1991 and the disintegration of the Soviet Union, are raking questions about the meaning of the communriy in exile and. ultimately, Mere we belong. Many thoughts, feelings and fragments still need weaving, connecting and understanding. 'That's my job" are the words that came to mind as I wrote that. I think about my thesis. I suspect I'm not the only one. That's why I need to explore. elicit and pull together - to find a part of this w/lective, yet individual experience of our lives in a changing context To realign that with our changing wotfd.. ..
Journal entry - February 1Oth, 1992 Chapter One
Beginning The Journey
I open this chapter with a statement about the purpose of this study, and I then describe the process by which I arrived at this focus. This is followed by an overview of the historical context wi-thin which this study is embedded. The present research focus evolved from a series of pilot interviews in which I explored the experiences of young Latvian-Canadians living in the newly independent Latvia. I conclude the chapter with an introdudon to the methodological approach used in this study.
1.1 Introduction to the Study of Lives in Changing Contexts
The focus of this study is on lives in changing contexts. The purpose is first to document, through the narratives of their life histories, the experiences and perspectives of second generation Canadian women of Latvian origin as they reevaluate their lives and destiny in a period of changes associated with the disintegration of the Soviet Union and the regaining of
Latvia's independence; and second to present a contextual analysis of these life histories.
This study gives voice to the women in telling their stories of being Latvian, understanding their personal history, and their sense of identification and belonging to their ethnic community and Canadian society. The research questions guide Me participants in the exploration of their lives: their memories, feelings, and attitudes about their experiences in growing up Latvian in Canada; their experiences in and perceptions of Latvia; and their reflections on how their communities and their lives are changing. The collection of six second-generation Latvian-Canadian women's personal stories. regarding their experiences of growing up Latvian in Canada and how they have adapted their
lives in changing contexts, provides a rich tapestry of individual narratives; the contextual analysis of these accounts gives insights into Me shared experiences of these women, brings into focus the important role that the familial. social. historical, political, cultural, and psychological contexts play in understanding lives, and illustrates the complexity of living in two cultures.
Given the recent political changes, this study also documents a unique period in time sadally, politically, historically, and psychologically during which community members previously
'in exile' are shifting their focus, reevaluating their roles and goals, as well as determining their place in the new context The gradual shift in focus of the Latvian community, from organizing activities and partkipating in community events in the West to helping with the democratization and rebuilding of Latvia, raises questions about the future direction of the Latvian communrty in the West and our role in it.
In the life history approach there is constant movement between ?he changing biographical history of the individual and the social history of hisfher lifespan, [thus] it can provide powerful insights into the process of change" (Sparkes as cited in Hatch 8 Wisniewski. 1995, p.
1 18). To my knowledge, the experience of adapting to these fundamental social-political changes, which also challenge the entire meaning of the Latvian community in exile for its members, has not been documented in this manner to date.
It is anticipated that this study will contribute to the understanding of experiences in dealing with these changes. The emerging themes from the narratives of lives in changing contexts will not only inform the reader about the complexity of the personal experiences of the second generation Latvian-Canadian women in this study. but will also contribute to the understanding of the intrapersonal and social dynamics that affect the interactions among emigrb and their people in the homeland in other parts of the world which undergo significant social- political changes. The meanings that the themes emerging from this study will have for the reader will resonate with the associations that each reader brings to the dialogue with this text.
1.2 Searching for the Question
I am a second generation Latvian-Canadian woman. The issue of ethnicity has been of interest to me for most of my life. The way in which I have tried to explore and understand it has changed over time. In my childhood I wondered how I was different from other children at school; what I shared in mrnonwith other latvian children; and, how things were the same and different in my life when compared to others, regardless of ethnic background. Back then my understanding of ethnicity related to my day to day existence and social interactions.
In my adolescence. I recall going through different kinds of 'phases' which ranged from rebellion against to over-involvement in and commitment to the Latvian community. At the age of thirteen I first visited Latvia, and that was a very significant experience. At that time I was beginning to question the glorified, idealized accounts of the homeland during the pre-World War II independence years. The traditionally oriented teachers in Latvian Saturday school focused on the independence period and what preceded it, while completely ignoring the present. This gave us the impression that they held a very limited view of the world and history. The information they presented was perceived by many of the young people as boring, slanted. and propaganda- like, in other words, not to be taken too seriously.
Being in Latvia for the first time was both an emotionally painful and empowering experience. It was the first time that I could feel, touch, and walk on the soil of this distant paradise that had been praised so much by those old enough to remember. I had the chance to begin to connect with the people, the tauta that I emerged from. through meeting the branch of the family that had stayed in the homeland. This experience reconnected me poignantly with my
latvietiba my sense of being Latvian. It also infused me with new meaning and revitalized my wnnection to the Latvian community in the free workl for a time.
My obsewations of differences in people's experience occurred at several levels. At one
level I observed patterns in my own friendship networks. I wondered why my brother, sister and
parents and I spoke to each other freely in Latvian, while this was not the case in many other families. Most of my Lahian friends spoke to me in Latvian, but frequently used English among
themselves. I also experienced a feeling of regret or loss for those Latvian acquaintances and
relatives who did not learn to speak Latvian. The benefits of being Latvian included having he opportunity of getting to know people around the world at song festivals, youth seminars and congresses, Latvian summer camps and so on, and sharing a common experience; as well as, being exposed to many types of learning and growth opportunities. The expression "big fish in a little pond" comes to mind.
Later, my interest in heritage language and ethnic identity acquisition and retention took me on a more academic quest as I turned to the research literature and began to pursue my own research in this area. My own research began in a more sociological vein in high school and continued at the undergraduate level. The first project was an attempt to understand and document the complexity of our Toronto Latvian communtty. The second was a simple exploration of Latvian socialization practices among families of Latvian couples and mixed-marriage couples.
Finally, in my Mastets thesis I explored, through interviews, patterns of language choice and use among second generation immigrants of Latvian origin and their children (Ma-, 1988; 1989;
1991; Miezitis, 1987; Miezltis-Matiss, 1990). My original intention was to continue the exploration of the language issue for my doctoral thesis. At that time, the Latvian community in the West was still very much the commundy in exile, and we were very concerned about language retention, the main outward sign of Latvian ethnicity (~utnipi,1981). and our rapidly diminishing numbers due to assimilation and attrition. As the process of russification was gaining momentum in Latvia, and
Russian was taking over as the official language, it was felt that ethnic survival depended on those in the West. However, the language question never really enticed me and over time it became dear to me that, although language was important, it was deeply embedded in the larger context of ethnic identification. Thus, my interest shifted from language retention to issues pertaining to the meaning of ethnic identification through the exploration of the experiences of second generation Canadians of Latvian on'gin.
Beginning in the late 1980s. and especially since the early 1990s. a large number of
Latvians from the West, have been travelling to Latvia with increasing frequency to visit, live andlor work there for varying lengths of time. Among them are second generation Latvian-
Canadians. These are young people in their twenties and thirties who, like myself, were born outside of Latvia and have spent most of their lives living in Canada.
In 1990, 1 spent two months in Latvia. For the first time I was able to contribute there professionally by participating in workshops and lecturing on topics related to school psychology and women's issues. In October 1991,l had the opportunity to spend two weeks in Latvia. My primary purpose was to interview the six second generation Canadians of Latvian origin living there at that time. During the interviews I explored the participants' experiences of living and working in Latvia, as well as, their sense of ethnic identity during the course of their lives (see
Appendix A). One of the discoveries made during these interviews was that a great deal of interesting material was emerging about the participants' experiences in Latvia and the effect of those experiences on their lives (Matiss, 1992). As a result of these interviews, my research interest shifted focus and I began to explore and document the experiences of second generation
Canadians of Latvian origin living and working in Latvia. I returned to Latvia in the summer of
1992 to pursue this line of inquiry and this proved to be a valuable pilot process for the present study. In January 1993 Dr. Ardra Cole agreed to be my thesis committee chairperson. The many discussions that followed led to further changes in the direction of this study. The role of the
community in edle, the community in the West, and its significance in people's lives came more into focus.
Since the late 1980s and early 1990s, important changes have occurred in the Lahrian communities in the West that impact on people's lives. The focus of Latvian exile community organhations and instiMions has shifted from maintaining a culturally, socially. and politically active community life in the West to taking into consideration the needs and opportunities of the
newly independent homeland. These changes raise questions about the purpose and future of the Latvian community in the West The role of the community in exile needs to be redefined in light of the changes since Latvia's independence has been reestablished. The changing context also raises questions about where our place is and where we belong.
The history of the Latvian community in exile is complex. Different issues which are cruaal to the understanding of the participants' experiences have arisen within the Latvian community, during the exile years as well as since Latvia's independence. The following section introduces the historical background of the Latvian community context which is based on my understanding of the events as well as my personal experiences in the community.
1.3 Historical Context for the Study
World events in the latter part of the 1980s that preceded and contributed to the eventual disintegration of the Soviet Union have resulted in many changes worldwide. In Latvia, during the last decade opportunities have opened up for people from the West to live and work there.
Labia's declaration of independence, following the coup in August 1991, has led to even further changes, The Latvian communities which were formed on four continents in the West following
World War II were viewed by their members as their home in exile. Latvia was annexed by the
Soviet Union during W.W.11. The expectation at the time was that the Soviet Union would soon
crumble. and that the thousands of political refugees. who had become immigrants, would be able to return to Latvia.
A large proportion of the refugees who came from the educated professional, business, and white collar ranks had been in leadership positions in the homeland. Upon settling in their host countries, the communities quickly transplanted and restored their institutions. The expectation was that they needed to preserve their language, culture, and institutions so that they could be re-established in Latvia when it was freed. There was also a strong motivation to pass this sense of allegiance and duty on to the next generation.
Although there was an increasing rate of assimilation into the majonty culture, the Latvian community was considerably more successful in maintaining the involvement of its members than many other ethnic groups, especially voluntary immigrants from free countries (O'Bryan, Reitz, &
Kuplowska, 1976). It has been suggested that this status of community in exile has helped to preserve the Latvian culture and language among many second and third generation Canadians of Latvian origin by giving the community an important mandate - to ensure the survival of the cultural values that were systematically destroyed by the Soviets in Latvia, and to lobby for the freedom of Latvia-
Prior to the Gorbachev administration and his policies of glasnost and perestroika, the freedom of Latvia was seen as a distant and improbable dream. The majority of non-assimilated second and third generation Canadians of Latvian origin considered themselves to be Latvian-
Canadians, and viewed Canada as their home. Most considered Canada (the West) to be their place in the world. Latvia was their t&zeme (fatherland), a place symbolically linking them with their roots and their people, tauta, who were subjugated by the Soviets.
The community members' feelings toward Latvia and actual contacts with Latvia were divene. The prevailing extreme right wing viewpoint was to avoid any contact with Latvia, since
that was not the Latvia that they had left behind, and those who had stayed there were converted to communism. Politicians, whose goal was to regain Latvia's independence, daimed
that any contact with Latvia de facto represented Me official recognition of the occupation of
Latvia by the West The conservatives resisted changing and updating the Latvian community's institutions or altering its vision of the independent Latvia that they left behind through actual
contact with Soviet occupied Latvia (V%is-Freibergs, 1993).
At the other extreme were younger, more liberal minded people educated in the West who wanted to actively initiate and maintain their contact with Latvia today. These people wanted to travel to Latvia to set foot on their te'vzeme, their fatherland; to find or reconnect with long lost friends, family, and relatives; to broaden their experience of being Latvian by embradng the arts, film, theater, music. literature and sharing in the cultural life of post W.W.11 Latvia They were willing to recognize, read between the lines and overlook the obligatory bits of propaganda supporting the system (compulsory dues for the communist watchdogs without whose approval nothing was published) in exchange for the opportunity to experience and evaluate first hand Me cultural developments in the homeland. It was felt Mat this broader perspective gave their latvieb'ba (one's sense of being Latvian) greater meaning. It was also felt that the freeing of
Latvia would have to occur from within not from the outside. and that on-going contact and dialogue with Latvians in Latvia could eventualIy assist in facilitating this process.
Gradually an increasingly larger proportion of the Latvian community began seeking some contact with Latvia. By the late 1970s and early 1980s visiting Latvia as a tourist was no longer viewed as prd=ommunist. Organizing and attending cultural and arts events from Latvia. however, was still not generally acceptable. The shift in attitudes was gradual, and linked with increased awareness and shifts in the political climates. The gradual disintegration of the Soviet Union opened up the dialogue between Latvians in the West and in the homeland in all spheres of endeavour economic, political, cultural, and educational. The focus for many Latvians from the West was on assisting Latvia to navigate through its political and economic transitions, and crises, and to display its accomplishments to the Western world in such areas as the arts and sports. Cultural exchange boomed, the moment the door opened.
Latvian consciousness raising movements, such as the grassroots folklore revival movement, had begun as early as the late 1960s; however, the movements gained momentum during glasnost and climaxed with the "Singing Revolutionn("DzesmotZi Revolucijan)in all three Baltic States in the late 1980s. Of particular significance was the international folklore festival
Bdtica, which was alternately organized by Baltic folklore leaders in Lithuania. Latvia, and Estonia beginning in 1987. Baltca '88organized in RTa. Latvia coincided with the "Singing
Revolution" and culminated in the restoration of the national symbols, the flag and anthem in July
1988. A detailed discussion of Me history of the folklore movement is beyond the scope of this study, however. gmidchens (1996) provides an extensive documentation and analysis of the folklore movement in the BaJtic and its contribution to creating a dimate where "exceptional political change is possible.... [because it] openly confronted the foundations of Soviet culture, giving its members.... spiritual independence" (p. 245). The Writer's Association also made significant contributions to the consciousness raising movement. For example, in June. 1988 they revealed the existence and content of the secret Molotov-Ribbentrop pact (signed between Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union) which had opened the way to the annexation of the independent Baltic States by the Soviet Union in 1940 (see Plakhs, 1995). The Latvian Lutheran church also challenged Soviet restrictions and formed the Rebirth and Revival group in June 1987 (Plams,
1995). Although protests against ecological damage caused by industrialization had been expressed since the 1970s, in October. 1986 journalist Dainis bins and writer Artu'rs Snii initiated a grass roots opposition of such strength to the hydroelectric plant to be buitt at P!avi~as on the Daugava river, that it actually resulted in the USSR Council of Ministers abandoning the project in 1987 (see Plal&s, 1995). These events are described in detail elsewhere, however, it is significant to note that they contributed to the growing awareness that indeed the political dirnate was becoming more tolerant in the Soviet Union, and thus Latvia, at that time (see
PlaGhs, 1995 for examples).
Following these significant shifts in the soad, political and cultural climate in Latvia made way for the Song Festival in Latvia in the summer of 1990 to become another landmark event in that it was the first time since W.W.11 that Latvian choirs and folk dance groups from the West were invited to participate. Although many Latvians had already been travelling to Latvia, for a large number of previously reluctant compatriots from the West, this was the first reconnection with the homeland, their first glimpse of a Latvia that they could reconnect to, a place that one might call home.
1.4 Pilot Interviews
The idea for the interviews (henceforth referred to as pilot interviews), which gave the inspiration for the current thesis, began to take shape during the summer of 1990 in Latvia. The powerful experience of returning to the homeland in the glasnost era inspired me as I travelled through Latvia presenting Psychology seminars to educators. Young Latvians from North America, Europe and other Western countries were exploring the possibility of living and working in Latvia, and I felt that it was important to interview my adventurous peers, to document their experiences at this unique time in history. The purpose of these pilot interviews was to explore participants' expen'ences in Latvia as well as growing up Latvian-Canadian (MatTss, 1992). In October 1991, six weeks after Latvia regained its independence, I went to Latvia and interviewed the six second generation Latvian-Canadians who had been living and working there
for a peliod of six months to two years. I used a semi-structured, open-ended interview approach
(see Appendbc A). The interviews ranged from one and a half to three hours in length. Some of
the participants had spouses or partners who were born in Latvia, others were single or were married to North American-born partners. The amount of time that each had spent in Latvia prior to
moving there varied, as did their expectations of how long they were planning to stay. Different
reasons attracted people to Latvia. Some of the participants were drawn by curiosity and wanting to see what it was like, others went because they wanted to be of service. Ultimately, each person's story revealed their individual reasons for going to and remaining in Latvia. The participants' accounts of their experiences of living and working there, however, revealed many common issues and concerns.
The degree to which the participants felt accepted by local Latvians depended on the situation. In general, they felt that they were viewed as arzemnieki, as "foreignen" or as
"Latvians from elsewhere", from other countries. "People comment on how well we speak Latvian, but always point out our 'liffle accents' that make us different. Overall, we are viewed as outsidersn. Participants reported that people often assumed that they were not a latvietdis
(Latvian), but rather that they were Americans or Canadians. "I see it as their problem if they can't see me as a person. but only as a Canadiann. Local Latvians often insinuated that the
"visitors" might stay for a while, but that they will not last because they are too used to their ucomfortsn.In contrast, most of the participants felt very much accepted by their close friends and famiiy members. Those who had suffered hardships upon their arrival in Latvia. felt that they had gained greater acceptance by their acquaintances because they "had survived".
A number of concerns were expressed by the participants. They were all aware of very different values and attitudes from those with which they were raised and had known in Canada. Many of their concerns centered on attitudes about people. They also reported having observed
many marital and family relation problems in Latvia. Although, people maintained a fierce loyalty toward family and close friends, there seemed to be a general lack of trust and respect for
humankind. Friendship seemed to be built more around what people could do for or give to each
other. As foreigners, the participants found that people often evaluated them from a "what can
you do for me?" perspective which influenced their interest in forming friendships and, hence, they felt that they could not always depend on or trust people in Latvia. Intenn'ewees also reported that they were often misunderstood, that it was difficult to communicate with the local LaMans, that there was even a different sense of humour among those from the East and West.
All participants expressed concems regarding their own health, especially given the primitive medical and dental services available in Latvia at the time. Back then it was difficult and expensive to get fresh fmit and vegetables, particularly during the winter months. Not knowing how to speak Russian was a disadvantage. Finally, it was frustrating to find that the process of change toward democracy was painfully slow. During the Soviet rule. one could blame ?he system* for everything that was wrong in Latvia, and now to take responsibility was a challenge.
These examples illustrate some of the issues that second generation Latvian-Canadians were dealing with while living in Latvia in October 1991. 1 continued my project a year later, during the summer and fall of 1992. 1 interviewed seven other participants, from an ever increasing number of second generation Latvian-Canadians who had moved to Latvia since 1991. The interviews with the original six, as well as the seven additional participants, further revealed the richness, variety, depth and intensity of the experiences of living in Latvia, as well as the special issues that arose for those who had grown up as second generation Latvian-Canadians. I began to question my own attitudes and values, and felt that an in-depth study into the experiences of second-generation Latvian-Canadians would be a worthwhile pursuit for my doctoral dissertation. I learned a valuable lesson during these earlier interviews, namely the importance of ailowing people to tell their own ston'es. I realized that by trying to closely follow my semi- structured interview schedule, I missed the opportunity of hearing about the experiences that were truly important to one of the participants- At the time 1 felt I had not been successful in helping him feel comfortable with the interview process. My questions were not meaningful to him, but I was not able to let go of the questions and allow him to tell his story. This experience haunted me. I realized that I had allowed something important to slip away, but at the time I did not know how to capture it it was partly due to this feeling of having somehow failed this individual in the interview process, that I began to seek alternative ways of gatbering and presenting people's experiences. This search eventually led me to the narrative inquiry and life history research approaches.
1.5 Encounters with Narrative and Life History
A significant encounter that led me to consider narrative inquiry as a research methodology for this study was through a course I took with Dr. Grace Feuerverger entitled "Language.
Identity, and Culture: Using the Literary Text in Teacher Development" in the spring of 1992.
During this course I had the opportunity to read many autobiographical works such as, Eva Hoffman's Lost in Translation . Richard Rodriguez's Hunger of Memory, and lbolya (Szalai) Grossman's An Ordinav Woman in Extraordinary Times; and auto biographical fiction such as,
Amy Tan's The Joy Luck Club and The Kitchen God's Wfe, and Sandra Cisneros' The House on Mango Street. It was through reading these works and other related literature that I became aware of the powerful voice of biography and autobiography, and its use as a way of sharing and beginning to understand others' experiences. These narratives all described ethnic experiences. The narratives gave voice to the poignant experiences of living in two cultures and languages; of the struggles with feelings of dislocation, displacement, loss and marginalization as experienced by immigrants and their offspring; the inter-generational conflicts and rifts in understanding that can occur in immigrant families; as well as, the toll that inherited history can have on individual, family, and soaetal relationships and development. These works captured what I too hoped to achieve in sharing the stories of the participants regarding our experiences of growing up Latvian in Canada and of our lives in changing contexts. I was also introduced to literature on journal writing and narrative inquiry as a research methodology. It was here that I began to write my own life story.
1.6 The Evolution of Methodology
Linked closely with the topic of exploring lives in changing contexts was the choice of methodology for the study. Narrative inquiry is the description and restorying of people's lived experiences. Clandinin and Connelly (I991 ) suggest that narrative inquiry is a complex process which attempts to capture the complexity of people's lives, of their being in the process of, at once, being "engaged in living, telling, retelling, and reliving stories" (Clandinin and Connelly,
1991, p. 265). The life history approach (Plummer, 1983) allows participants' narratives to be explored within the social, political, historical, cultural, familial and psychological contexts within which they are naturally embedded. The authenticity of the narrative can be enhanced by Me narrators' own voices. The use of people's narratives or stories is relevant in the present study since the focus is on the participants' experiences and perspectives; the contextual analysis of these stories which is encompassed in the life history approach allows to bring the impact of the changing context on the participants' lives into focus. Thus, the life history approach emerged as the methodology of choice for this study. Chapter Two
The Ca-creation Of Stories Over Time
In the first part of this chapter, Mefhods of Inquiry: Narative and Life History, I introduce
the methodological approach used in this study and rake a number of issues pertaining to the
research process. In the second part, The Study of Lives in Changing Contexts, I outline the spedfic procedures followed with the participants in this work, how the process unfolded, and the
issues that arose during the course of the study. In the third part, Processing the Research
Materials, I introduce the processes of description, analysis, interpretation, and re-presentation and presentation of the research material.
2.1 Methods of Inquiry: Narrative and Life History
None of us are [sic] to be found in sets of tasks or lists of attributes; we can be known only in the unfolding of our unique stories within the context of everyday events. (Gussin Paley, 1990, p. xii)
Qualitative research has quickly gained momentum in the academic community, because it gives permission to intuition, creativity and untapped resources of the spirit. It creates opportunity to explore the road less traveled. It celebrates the unknown and the excitement of discovery. It is the type of research where Me voice of the participant can touch both the exploration of the mind and the soul. (Magrill, 1996, p. 24-25) Being a partidpant in your own research is .... the Golden Rule in developing research methods (Hunt, 1 987, p. 1 18)
My motivation to pursue this work was to explore the life experiences and perspectives of second generation Latvian-Canadian women, particularly in the context of Latvia's recently redaimed independence ending the community-in-exile era in which we were born and raised. In preparing for my doctoral study I was introduced to the narrative inquiry approach (Connelly and Clandinin, 1990) and the notion of giving voice to participants. This perspective showed me that there was a research method for getting at the rich texture of people's experiences usually found in literary works. I came to realize the powerful impact of this type of work when I read narratives, essays, and autobiographical fiction works which dealt with issues such as ethnic identity, immigrant experiences, feelings of marginalization, living in two cultures, and living in or between two languages (for example, Bannerji, 1990; Blicksilver, 1978; Cisneros, 1989, 1991 ; Conway, 1992; Goh & Stephenson. 1989; Grossman, 1990; Hoffman, 1989; Kulyk Keefer, 1990; McPherson, 1992; Rodriguez, 1982; Tan, 1989,1991).
In the process of formulating my research topic I also considered the life history approach (Plummer, 1983). This approach presented a framework for working with the participants' life histories in a way that allowed their stories to emerge, as well as, to explore these within the social, political, historical, cultural, familial and psychological context within which they are embedded.
The focus on the individual is to gain a deeper understanding of the complex relations between ideology and culture, self and society. Life history requires a historical, cu/tura/,political, and soda/ situatedness in order to avoid the romantidzation of Me individual, and thus reproduction of a hero narrative which reifies humanist notions of the individual as autonomous and unitary. (Munro as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 117)
The life history approach using the narrative form appeared to be the most appropriate methodology for the purpose of this study. Life history and narrative approaches are not new to qualitative research in psychology and sociology; however, recent explorations in these fields point to a renewed interest in the approaches over the past decade (Bertaux & Kohli. 1984; Cole, 1994; Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995; Plummer, 1983). Hatch and Wisniewski (1995) suggest that ''life history and nanative offer exciting alternatives for connecting the lives and stories of individuals to the understanding of larger human and social phenomena" (p. 113). Bill Ayers writes regarding these approaches that ''Each relies on story, on subjective accounts, on meaning as it is constructed by people in situations. Each focuses on life as it is lived - an experience not easily fitted into disciplines, categories, or compartments. Each assumes a dynamic, living past, a past open to interpretation and reinterpretation, to meaning-making in and for the present" (as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 114). Individual stories are powerful because they lead us to new insights, and allow us to understand experiences more richly and fully (Magrill, 1996; Patton. 1980). Narrative inquiry involves the description and restorying of people's lived experiences. According to Clandinin and Connelly (1990; 1991; 1994) narrative inquiry is a complex process which attempts to capture the complexity of people's lives, of their being in the process of, at once, being "engaged in living, telling, retelling, and reliving stones" (Clandinin & Connelly, 1991, p. 265). This approach is regarded as vaIuable because "humans are storytelling organisms who, individually and socially, lead storied livesn (p. 265). Wtherell and Noddings (1991) point out that "stories invite us to come to know the world and our place in it" (p. 13).
Diamond (1991) proposes that "narrative helps us to consider the different versions of reality, including which is more 'real', what we think we are, what we want to be, what we are afraid to be, what we pretend to be or what we think others think we are" (pp. 100-101). It is by giving voice to people, by allowing them to tell their stories that these realities can be explored.
Many of the authors in the work by Hatch 8 Wisniewski (1995) entitled LHe History and Narrative: Questions, Issues, and Exemplary Works cited extensively in this section, described narrative as "a way of knowing". A quotation by Yvonna Lincoln elaborates on this point of view:
life history is always the history of a life, a shgle life, told from a particular vantage point, while namtive may be a style of telling, a particular way of constructing the story of several individuals or a group.... (p. 11 5)
Ufe histories are described as "individual, contextually situated stories" (Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 115). Life history is a type of narrative, but not all narratives are life histories.
In so much as life histories are stories of people's lives, they are narratives; but it is the connection of one's life events to social events that distinguishes life history from other forms of narrative. The life is seen as being lived in a time, place, and under patticular social cirwmstances rather than a simple csllectian of events. (Paul Schernpp as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 115) The most important distinction between life history as method and narrative as method is the role of the context. I think of life history research as taking narrative one step furthec that is, life history places narrative accounts and interpretations in a broader context - personal, historical, social, institutional, anctlor politicaI. Thus, life history studies go beyond ?he personal: Related to this, I also see a difference with respect to the broad purposes of life history and narrative research. NanabLe focuses on making meaning of individualstexperiences; life history draws on individuals' experiences to make broader contextual meaning. (Ardra Cole, as cited by Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p.116)
Plummer (1983) suggests that the value of the life history approach is that it allows one to focus on historical change. He writes that "such a focus is a dual one, moving between the changing biographical history of the person and the social history of his or her lifespan. Invariably the gathering of a life history will entail the subject moving to and fro between the developments of their own life cycle and the ways in which external crises and situations ... have impinged on this" (Plummer, 1983, p. 70).
Life history and narrative work is distinguished from other types of qualitative research by the focus on the individual, the personal nature of the research process, the practical orientation, and by the emphasis on subjectivity (Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995). The focus on the individual, the individual's perspective, and on understanding the stories and lives of individuals in the broader historical and societal contexts is the predominant characteristic that sets life history and narrative inquiry apart.
The focus with the life history-narrative approach is on the stories people tell one another. The focus on stories and their narrative analysis distinguishes this type of work from other qualitative methods like interviewing, direct observation, and participant observation. (Norman Denzin as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 1 16)
Life history is more personal than other qualitative approaches, and it requires that "researcher and participant work closely together to come to a shared understanding of the participant's story " (Hatch & Wisniewski. 1995, p. 1 17). Relationships between the researcher and narrator are closer because of "the personal and intrusive nature of the research. the role of personal histories as a data source, and the primary emphasis on verbal and/or written personal accounts as an information gathering tool" (Ardra Cole as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 1 17). This type of work tends to be more collaborative in nature (Cole, 1994; Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995; Clandinin & Connelly, 1994; Connelly 8 Clandinin. 1990)). The focus on "individual lives as lived' in these approaches is seen as resulting in "findingsu that are more practical (Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995). Beftaux (1981) also suggests that the important emphasis "should not be on 'publication' [of research findings] but [on] reading (p. 32) them, thus, making them accessible and meaningful in social practice.
Given that the life history has to constantly move between the changing biographical history of Me individual and the social history of hiuher lifespan, it can provide powerful insights into Me process of change. (Andrew Sparkes as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 118)
The emphasis on subjectivity in life history and narrative is their strength, and brings them beyond the "scientific' or "empiridst' standards which continue to dominate other qualitative approaches (Hatch & Wisniewski. 1995). and "it is precisely because of their subjectivity-their rootedness in time, place, and personal experience, in their perspective-n'dden character-that we value them" (Personal Narratives Group, 1989, pp. 263-264).
Life history and narrative approaches are person centered, unaapologetically subjective. Far from a weakness, the voice of the person, the subject's own account represents a singular strength. Life history and nanative are ancient approaches to understanding human affairs - they are found in history, folkore, psychiatry, medicine, music, sociology, economics, and of course, anthropology. Their relative newness to the rest of us is a reminder of how often we tail behind. (Bill Ayers as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 118)
Given the varied uses, individual nature and unique spirit of life history and narrative work, standard methodologies have not been developed nor are they expected to be (Bertaux & Kohli, 1984; Plummer, l983), although helpful paradigms are presented in the literature for addressing methodological problems, for example, by Plummer (1983) and Cole and Knowles
It is well established within the field that nanative and life history approaches have their own major issues which need to be addressed (Bertaw, 1981; Kohli, 1981; Cole, 1994; Cole 8 Knowles, 1995; Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995; Plummer, 1983). These include researcher-partidpant relationships; issues of voice; balancing individual stories and social-historical contexts; criteria for judging quality; and the crisis of representation (Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995). Ethical considerations in researcher-participant relationships are especially important because of the vulnerability of the participants, given the intense focus on individual lives and the intrusive nature of this work (Cole, 1994; Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995; Measor & Sikes, 1992). Paul Schempp asks: uWillthis person feel fairly treated by my work?" (as cited in Hatch & Wisniewski, 1995, p. 118).
Issues of voice are also central in life history and narrative work (Clandinin & Connelly,
1991 ;Cole, 1991; I 994; Connelly & Clandinin. 1994; Diamond, 1991 ;Hatch 8 Wisniewski, 1995;
Plummer, 1983; 1990; Sparkes, 1994). Plummer (1983) points out that life history work gives voice to the 'marginal person,' the 'underdog' perspective. The issue of voice in this type of work is complex. Collaboration is one way in which the integrity and authenticcty of the participant's voice can be honoured: "Stones of a life told by one person to another are joint productions; they are in a real sense to-authored' (E. M. Bruner, 1986; J. Bruner, 1990)" (as cited in Hatch &
Wisniewski, 1995, p. 127).
It is now widely accepted that it is not appropriate to judge qualitative research by the same standards as quantitative work, thus tradiional concepts of internal and external validity, replicability and objectivity are not addressed (Lincoln & Guba, 1985; Mishler, 1986, 1990;
Patton, 1980; Plummer, 1983). As stated by Yvonna Lincoln: "It's not that those issues don't get done well in this form of research; they are simply not in the same universe" (as cited by Hatch and Wisniewski, 1995)- Qualitative work in general, and life history and narrative inquiry in particular have their own issues that must be addressed when considering the quality of the data.
It is important to establish the credibility (the degree to which the findings are true to the experiences of the participants) of the gathered narratives and the created stories. Working in collaborative relationships with the participants in co-creating their stories, and thus preserving their voice in the findings, contributes to the credibility and authenticity of the results of the study. The specific procedures and special issues pertaining to this life history study are described and discussed in the following sections.
2.2 The Study of Lives in Changing Contexts
The life history approach provided the framework within which to proceed with what I hoped to accomplish in my research. I felt a strong conviction about the need to bring forward the voices of my participants. Even though I have worked from a qualitative perspective for more than ten years, prior to my encounters with narrative inquiry and life history, the lingering effects of my prior empirical training and indoctrination led me to believe that stories were the stuff that only literary works were made of. What a liberating and hopeful experience it was to embrace this non-traditional viewpoint in the world of research for exploring such an intensely personal topic as lives in changing contexts.
I was guided in this work by the principles underlying life history inquiry. Plummets (1983) Documents of Lkwas a primary source of methodology that I used to ground my research. Plurnmer (1983) describes five broad processes to be followed in "the doing of life histories". These include the: (1 ) preparation; (2) data gathering; (3) data storing; (4) data analysis; and (5) data presentation stages of the 'created' life history. While for practical reasons these processes are described sequentially, Plummer (1983) strongly recommends that 'this temptation should be resisted in pmctice. For every stage can be executed side by side with Me next stage" (Plummer 1983, p 85). The cyclical nature of needing to address different aspects in these stages in this type of work, indeed, presented itself again and again through out the course of the research process .
2.2.1 Finding and Working With the Storytellers Plummer (1983) raises many relevant and helpful issues in his discussion of the preparation stage of research. In this section the focus is on finding the storytellers. In describing who shall be studied in life history work, traditional sampling strategies do not apply (Patton, 1980: Plummer, 1983). The process and criteria for selecting partidpants seems to be either pragmatic, whereby informants "are merely stumbled upon." or formal (Plummer, 1983, p.87). In the latter case. it becomes a question of whether the researcher chooses to study intensively the great person, the common person, or the marginal person. The marginal person has been the most common type of life history study informant (see Plummer, 1983 for references to other works). The 'marginal person' refers to the person who lives in two societies
at a cultural crossroads. Experiencing contrasting expectations as to how he or she should live, Me subject becomes aware of...how potentially fragile are the realities that people make for themselves. In this awareness the subject throws a much broader light on the cultural order, the 'OK world' that is routinely taken for granted by most. (Plummer, 1983, p. 88)
The participants in the current study, given their experiences of having grown up in two cultures and societies, could be viewed as examples of the 'marginal person'. In some ways they could also be viewed as 'ordinary' second-generation Latvian-Canadians living in a community in exile.
The participants in this study are six second generation Latvian-Canadian women who were interested in exploring how growing up Latvian in Canada, and the recent reinstatement of
Latvia's independence, bringing about the "end of the cornmuntty-in-exile eran, impacted on their lives. The women were chosen on the basis of their willingness to become involved in the life history interviewing process and journal writing. After much thought. I decided to focus on women given the small number of participants, and the intimate nature of the inquiry. Oakley (1981), in her critique of the traditional interviewing practice paradigms in contrast to a feminist approach in interviewing women, argues that "in most cases, the goal of finding out about people through interviewing is best achieved when the relationship of interviewer and interviewee is non- hierarchical and when the interviewer is prepared to invest his or her own personal identity in the relationship" (p. 41). 1 felt that it would be more feasible for myself and the participants if we were women exploring together our life experiences. All of the women were known to me either personally or socially through my contacts with them in the Latvian community. I felt that this was an important asset for this study since it facilitated the rapport building process. Given the fact that this research took place in a small community, this prior connection helped to gain the twst needed in disclosing their stones, as well as my own. I was also aware of possible difficulties that could arise when interviewing friends and acquaintances (Seidman, 1991). To minimize possible misunderstandings, I vely dearfy outlined the requirements of participating in the study to potential participants so that they understood as fully as possible what they were consenting to. Despite these precautions. I did lose one of the original six participants - someone who had been a very close childhood friend, and who realized well into the research that she did not wish to expose herself to such a process at that time.
Another type of concern involved being able to ensure that the ideas are expressed in a way that allows the reader to follow and understand the stories. In addition to using my awareness of this concern as a guide during intenhewing, compiling the stories and writing the text, the participants were asked for feedback on the transcribed interviews, as well as their stories- Thus, we were able to catch and later explore implicit assumptions, unfinished thoughts, and common experiences that one would tend to explain in greater detail to a stranger. The dialogue with the participants was also important to engage the women in on-going active participation in the storying and re-storying of their lives. In keeping a journal, as well as writing my own life history, I tried to remain sensitive to my close involvement with the participants and the context, and the potential pitfalls thereof.
The immediately obvious common thread among these participants is that they are second generation Latvian-Canadian women, who in 1993, when the interviewing process began, were in their twenties and thirties. There are also differences in: previous and current contact with Latvia, involvement in the Latvian community in the West, friendship networks, marital status, ethnicity of spouse or partner, education, occupation, family history and relationships to name a few. This allowed for both diverse and common perspectives to emerge
through their narratives in response to the changes elicited by the political events in Latvia, as well as, other events and changes throughout their lives.
The research was also my personal journey. I am a second generation Latvian-Canadian
woman, and consequently this research also involved my own joumey into exploring and better
understanding my experiences, along with those of the participants in this study.
As George Kelly (1955) put it, psychology is a unique discipline because the researcher/Yheoffst is both a perpetrator of theories about the human condition and a participant in it. To acknowledge that inquiry into human affairsis itselfa part of human affairs is also to acknowledge that the results of inquity ate influenced by the intentions and expectations of both the researcher and the persons being researched, as well as by the relationship between them. (Hunt, 1992, p. 11 1)
In light of the nature of this type of research as suggested by the above statements, I began to write my own narrative in the spring of 1992. This continued to be an ongoing process through which I have been attempting to document who I, the researcher, am. Eventually I decided to include my personal story among the stories of the participants. This allowed me to present my story and for the reader to hear my own voice separately from my researcher voice.
2.2.2 Sources for the Participants' Stories This section describes what strategies were used in obtaining the life history materials, and the 'data gathering' process, followed by a detailed description of how the process actually unfolded with each participant. The sources of life history materials from which Me women's stories were co-created included the interviews (Me interview transcripts, audio tapes, interview and process notes), some journal entries, as well as, written correspondence (facsimile transmissions of additions and changes to stories, letters). The interviews.
The narratives were elicited through in-depth. semi-structured. open-ended interviews.
The agreement was that each woman would participate in a series of at least three interviews in
which she would tell her life history; and that the interviews would vary in length between one and three hours- Although specific topics and themes were selected (see Appendix B), the
content of the interviews was determined by what was important for each woman to tell. Thus. the interviews evolved differently as each participant narrated her own story. My previous experience and skills in interviewing as well as my knowledge and understanding of techniques
used and issues arising in the interview process were supported and expanded by the literature
on research interviewing (Cole, 1994, 1991; Plummer, 1983; Mishler. 1986; Seidman, 1991 ; Van
Manen. 1990; Yow. 1994). Themes from the pilot interview guide (see Appendix A) were also used as a springboard at times when the participant was uncertain about where she wished to proceed with her story.
The interviews were conducted primarily in English. I tape recorded all the interviews, and
made written notes during the interviews. At the end of each interview, I wrote detaiied notes about impressions, questions. themes, reactions and feelings, and whatever else seemed
relevant The interviews were transcribed by a professional transcriber. I checked each transcript
for accuracy to ensure that it corresponded to the taped interviews. Each participant was given a
copy of her own transcripts. and there were opportunities to comment on the transcripts and to discuss them in subsequent meetings. This gave the participants the opportunity to reflect. clarify, comment, and expand upon the content of the previous interviews and to continue to edit their own stories, to re-story their own lives. The on-going interaction with the participants in gathering the narratives and co-creating the ston'es contributed to the credibility of the outcomes of the study. Keeping journals.
In addition to the interviews, the participants were asked to keep a journal of their thoughts, feelings, changes in perspective, memories, insights, reactions throughout the research process. It was anticipated that this would also assist in the unfolding and telling of their life
stories. Cooper (1991) and Holly (1989, 1990) explore the benefits of journal writing in research
and practice. Since several of these women write, I also hoped that they might be willing to share some of their previous written work as well. In reality, however, this proved to be a larger
commitment than the participants were able to fulfill, and for various reasons most partidpants did
not keep journals. I did keep a journal during the course of the study to document my own
perspectives (that is, my experiences, thoughts, expectations, biases, reactions, feelings,
growth, change) as both researcher and participant. Keeping this reflective journal as a researcher was also an important process for establishing the credibility and authenticity of the findings.
Written correspondence.
Although the participants did not keep journals to share during the research period, written correspondence (in the form of letters and facsimile transmissions) were often used during the
process of introducing, editing and reworking the individual stories. The participants returned their comments and altered versions of their stories to me for reworking. Introductions to Me stories, as
well as, postscripts were given to me by the participants in written form after the completion of the interview process. Letters were also used to stay in touch with the participants who were in Latvia.
2.2.3 Forminq Relationships and Gatherinq Narratives
In the previous sections I outlined how I envisioned that the gathering of narratives and life histories would proceed. The process unfolded differently with each partidpant. This began with how each woman came to participate in the study, henumber of times each was
interviewed, the length of time between interviews, the sharing of written material, and whether a journal was kept. As the researcher I tried to respect each participant's needs and requests, and was as flexible and accommodating as possible. The number of actual formal interviews varied from two to four long interviews. In all cases these interviews were supplemented by telephone
conversations, informal meetings, and written correspondence. A detailed description follows on
how each research relationship and research process unfolded. as well as, the issues that arose for each parbidpant.
Ingrida - negotiating boundaries. As I became dearer about the direction of my study, I began talking about my thesis with
people in the Latvian community. It was after one of these discussions that lnglrda first began to consider participating in this study.
IngrTda and I "grew up togethef in the Latvian community, and knew each other socially. We lived our lives in parallel, in that we had some of the same friends and we were involved in
some activities together. but we had never been close friends. I had not seen lngfida in many
years, and then met her twice in a short period of time as I was completing my thesis proposal.
During our second encounter lngrida told me she was exploring her own identity issues, and that
she thought that it might be both interesting and helpful to her own process to participate in my study.
In the summer of 1993 we met to talk about the project and to explore whether she was still interested in participating. This was the beginning of our process of negotiating boundaries.
The first issue to be addressed was confidentiality. Since we have some friends in common, it
was very important to discuss this issue. I made it very clear that what transpired between us
would remain confidential. It was important for both of us to know that what we said and thought
out loud during this process would be honoured, respected, and protected. The issue of
confidentiality is particularly sensitive in small communities because of the potential for gossip. An equally important issue was the guarantee of anonymity. I explained that I would not be telling anyone who the participants in my study were. IngKida, however. was free to tell
people that she was one of the participants if she so wished. I also infoned her that she would get copies of all the transcripts to comment on, as well as the text that would be used in the
thesis. I assured her that she could change or take back what she had said if she felt that it was
not appropriate or true. or something that she regretted or had not meant to say. In other words. she would be able to edit her story, to restory her own life. after the words were already said.
The clarification of these boundaries became part of the on-going process. Ingrida fel safe enough that she could express her anxieties about the process, so we could address them as they came up.
Our research relationship lasted more than three years. Although the interviews were completed within a year, the representation and re-storying process took another two years.
After the first two interviews several months elapsed until the third and the fourth interview when
lngrida felt that she had completed her story. In January 1995.1 gave Ingcda the draft of her story
which I had been working wSthsince the previous summer. lngrida did not give me immediate
feedback, and I did not pursue it at the time. During the summer of 1995 1 began to review the
work that I had done with the stones, and felt that parts of Ingfida's story needed to be refocused.
She was relieved that I felt that changes needed to be made. because she too had not felt comfortable with certain parts of the story. In addition, changes in lngrida's own life allowed her to finally bring some closure to her story, something that had not been possible for her earlier. During this restorying process I gave her an amended version of the original draft for her to comment on,
and she proceeded to make the changes that she felt were necessary. After several such exchanges, and the addition of her own supplemental text, in November, 1995 we completed a re-presentation that felt valid and safe enough. The relationship with ingfda illustrates the intrusive nature of this kind of work. Early on in our participant-researcher relationship lngrida expressed wony that she might be "ruining" my
research because she had to cancel an intenriew appointment. At that point I realized that I
needed to restate my intention of being flexible and sensitive to my participants' needs. Later,
she expressed that she was feeling guilty about not doing what she promised, such as reading
the transcripts before the interview or bringing me something that she had written and was willing
to share with me. lngrida had to reschedule our final formal interview, and when we next met at a
social function she mentioned that she had had a nightmare about me. In this nightmare I had
changed, I did not even look like myself anymore, and I had become mean and insensitive. In
other words, I had become unsafe. By sharing, somewhat reluctantly, the gist of this nightmare
she provided an opportunity for me to help reestablish her feeling of safety and reduce her
anxiety. This was an example where we were able to successfully negotiate the boundaries of
Ingtidas participation in the study so that she could feel safe about taking the risks that come with this kind of work.
Mira - telling her story from a distance over time. My research relationship with Mgra began during Me summer of 1992 when I was in Latvia for two months conducting pilot interviews with the second-generation Latvian-Canadians who were living there. MBra had been in Latvia for five months at the time, and was not sure as to the length or permanence of her stay. Prior to living in Latvia, she lived in Toronto for most of her childhood, adolescence and young adulthood. We had been friends for many years, and were active in the community together. Our parents belonged to the same social group.
At the time when I interviewed Mara in Latvia, I was using the semi-structured open- ended pilot interview (see Appendix A) focusing on specific topics about her experiences in
Latvia, as well as on issues and memories about growing up Latvian in Canada and ethnic identification. We met for two interviews, a week apart. We reconnected when Mara visited Canada in December of the same year. I had already been keeping a journal at the time and had documented our meeting.
In thinking about my study, I had been wondering about how to include the perspective of someone living in Latvia. I was aware of how difficult it would be to pursue narrative inquiry and life history work at such a great distance, espeaally given the demands on people's time and the uncertainty in ensuring confidential communication to and from Latvia In the fall of 1993 1 discovered that MBra was in Canada for a brief, unexpected visit. I called her to ask if she would be interested in continuing our researcher-participant relationship, and she agreed. This was a real gift. I listened to the earlier pilot interview tapes and reviewed the notes before our meeting.
MIra is a very good storyteller and observer. I found that our discussions were very relevant to what I was hoping to discuss with her for the life history study. The previous meetings also contributed to a longitudinal perspective on her experiences. The pilot interviews were partly in
Latvian and partly in English. I translated the interviews so that I could use them in MBra's story.
I collected two more interviews, and at the beginning of August 1994, MSra sent me her autobiographical lead-in to her story by facsimile transmission. By the end of August I was able to send her the first draft of her story for her comments. Wth Mara's story, as with Me others, the restorying process continued for another two years through several additional drafts which we were able to send back and forth between Latvia and Canada. The final draft of Mra1sstory was completed with her own postscript in June, 1996. In March 1998 she added one final post- postscript to her story.
Laimdota - a new chapter in her life, another story to tell. Although born in Toronto, La'mdota has spent a great part of her life in different countries. I felt that her story would add an interesting perspective since she had made a conscious decision to move to Latvia and set up her own business there. She has travelled extensively, and has lived and worked abroad since the mid4 980's as well as during her high school years. While living in Canada, Laimdota was a very active and often a pivotal member of the Latvian youth organizing cultural, artistic, social, and political events. In addition, she is an enthusiastic storyteller. Given this interesting combination of her previous history and current pursuits, I approached Laimdota about the possibility of participating in this study in the Spring of 1993. We were finally able to coordinate our interview for the end of October 1993. a few days before she left for Latvia. Our intention was to continue our dialogue through written correspondence and tape recorded narrations of her story. Although we exchanged several letters, the final interview of Laimdota's narrative was taped in Latvia in October, 1994. At that time she also wrote her own autobiographical introduction to her story. Laimdota also received copies of her interview transcripts to edit and comment on, and made good use of this opportunity to darify and elaborate on what she had said, and to refine the written version of her narrative.
Laimdota received a draft copy of her story a year later, in September 1995. She returned the edited text to me several weeks later with a postscript regarding her perspective two years after having moved to Latvia. The process concluded with her approval of the final edited version the faIl of 1995.
Valeska - parallel journeys. I had known Valeska socially in the community. We were both in Latvia during the summer of 1992. where we became reacquainted and began our dialogue. We talked about possibly collaborating on future projects, combining our talents, knowledge, and interests. Initially I was hoping to interview Valeska about her experiences in Latvia, but when I returned to Canada the focus of my research had started to shift, and the interview was postponed. A year later I approached Valeska about participating in a life history study and she was interested in participating. We had several telephone conversations during which Valeska talked about some of her struggles and insights. I discovered that she has continued to explore, through her art, the challenges of living and grow-ng up in two cultures and the impact that this has had on her parentsJgeneration, as well as, her own, and that she has also written scripts, papers and journal entries exploring these issues. I always recorded the details of these conversations which I found interesting and stimulating, and these journal entries contributed to the cecreation of her story.
Our first face to face meeting was in late October, 1993. We talked about our proposals, the work that she was hoping to create in Latvia, and my thesis. It was a rewarding connection, in part because it validated my pursuit Following this meeting Valeska formally agreed to partiupate in my study. I talked to her about the issue of vulnerability in this type of work. She said that she did not feel vulnerable, that she trusted me and felt empowered to have her voice heard. Valeska felt that being involved in this project validated her own work.
Valeska also wondered whether it might not seem strange that she was involved in so much self analysis, and that she examined her life from such a theoretical perspective. This made it interesting for the study, and I found that I was stimulated to think further in different directions following our discussions. We both gained a great deal from each other during this collaborative process.
We had originally planned to meet for our first formal interview in late November, but her schedule left her with little time and energy. Valeska called early in January 1994, and said that she was looking foward to getting together again. She was ready for the research process to begin. The first interview was very intense and productive. We were together for more than four hours. Valeska is an amazing storyteller, and was able to recall and describe vivid images and memories from childhood onward. Since Valeska continued to have a very busy schedule, we were unable to fit in another interview before she left for Latvia in May 1994. She was there for six months, and since she was planning to work on her own writing while she was away, we hoped to continue by correspondence while she was in Latvia. She anticipated that it would be an interesting time in terms of experiences, refledion, insight, and quite likely, change; however, it turned out to be too difficult to carry out this plan. When Valeska returned from Latvia she was once again drawn into intense work schedules in Toronto, and we were not able to set up another interview until the end of December 1994. She felt that a great deal had changed for her since our previous interview.
In December 1995 1 was able to send by facsimile transmission a draft of my re- presentation of Valeska's story for her comments. She felt somewhat vulnerable regarding some aspects of it, and we agreed that she would rework the parts which she wished to change. In
June 1996,l received her edited version of the story from Latvia including her postscript. The story was revisited in the fall of 1997.
llqa - re-creating the stow of her life. llga has been very involved for most of her life in both participant and leadership roles in educational, political, social, and cultural activities in the Latvian community in exile. My personal connection with llga has spanned over the past twenty years that we have been active in the community together.
I first approached llga about participating in this study in early Spring 1993. around the time that she had become engaged to be married. She had indicated that she was in turmoil about her identity and her future plans now that she was marrying a non-Latvian, something that she had not anticipated. It was unclear to llga how the marriage would impact on her life as she had known it. This was a significant issue for her, because she had invested much of herself in her work and involvement in the Latvian community, and was very much identified with this part of herself. llga had also been contemplating a move to tatvl0a.I asked her if she would like the opportunity to explore these feelings in the context of this study. She agreed, indicating that she felt that it would be helpful for her to talk about these experiences.
llga and I met for our first interview at the end of May 1993, and again a few weeks later in the middle of June. The first two interviews took place at my apartment. llga invited me for lunch at the end of June. at which time we were also hoping to have our third interview. This did not work out as we had planned, so we ended up talking informally off tape for several hours mostly about her upcoming wedding. Our third interview was at my place a few days later. Ilga's life became very hectic after that, and apart from seeing each other socially, we only had the opportunity to talk on the phone every now and then. Our fourth meeting was in May 1994, shortly after llga had received Clarissa Pinkola Estes' book Women Who Run wiM the Wolves as a gift. She felt that the book connected her with her experience of being Latvian.
I was able to complete a draft of Ilga's story in the fall of 1995. She felt that there were a number of areas which she wanted to work on further, but her busy work and study schedules delayed this considerably. Although we saw each other socially every couple of months, the thesis interaction was put on hold until the summer of 1997, and was completed in March 1998.
llga had difficulty choosing a pseudonym because she felt that given her visibility in the
Latvian community her story would be easily recognized. It is possible that this concern extended the time needed to allow the final version of her story to emerge.
llze - locating myself in the research. The central aspect of locating myself in the research and feeling safe enough dealt with determining how my voice would be expressed in this study. After considerable reflection, I decided to present my narrative along with those of my participants. Thus, I could share two voices with the readers, that of the researcher and that of the researched. In this way, I too could edit my own story and discover what would emerge in the process. I began to write my life story during the spring of 1992, and it took on several different forms and directions during the course of vvliting this thesis. It was the story that took the longest time to emerge in the version presented in Chapter Nine.
How my work would be received by the Latvian community in exile was an important issue for me from the time that I first started considering this area of study. The greatest challenge was how to present the complex and controversial nature of the Latvian community in exile that I had experienced while growing up, and how to treat the community issues and dynamics with sensitivity and accuracy. The life history aspect of this work placed me in a position where I had to explore some of the negative aspects of our community over the years, because these have had an impact on people's lives, as have the positive aspects of the community. In creating a public document, where these experiences. thoughts, and reactions are voiced, I felt that an incomplete and, therefore, selective representation would put my credibility within hecommunity at risk
I considered distancing myself from the exploration of the social, political. historical and cultural aspect altogether. The task appeared too large to manage, and what I felt compelled to present wonied me. Discussions with my supervisor at these times, however, helped to re-focus my attention back to the purpose of my study, that is, a life history study exploring lives in changing contexts. These reminders helped me put my task and purpose into perspective. A possible solution to my quandary was to provide a general overview of the life of the community to introduce the reader to the context, and to discuss in detail only those aspects which came up in the individual life stories or narratives. My task was not to write a social-political, historical, cultural, or sociological analysis of the Latvian community in the West. This reframing helped to make the task more manageable. I could draw on several sources in which others had examined the community from social-political and psychological perspectives, which validated my expen'ence.
2.3 Processinq the Research Materials
Plummer (1983) guided the process of working with and transforming the qualitative data.
The previous section described my interactions and relationships with the participants. This section describes: issues arising in the research process; how the data was stored; the quality of the data collected; and the process of describing, presenting, and interpreting the research materials.
2.3.1 Issues Arising in the Research Process
Lancruage, translation and voice in narratives.
I had given a great deal of thought to the issue of language choice during the interviews.
Since the participants are bilingual, I originally expected the inteMews to be in both Latvian and
English. After careful consideration, however, I decided to encourage participants to try to use
English, as much as possible, as the main language of communication during the inte~ews. When something was difficult to express in English, we discussed it in Latvian and then tried to collectively translate it into English.
One of the main reasons for this decision was to ensure that the participant's voice was heard, not my translation, which would bring in an element of interpretation. Since English is our educated language, we tend to express ourselves in English in a more articulate, sophisticated and formal manner. Latvian, on the other hand, tends to be more connected to, and possibly gives us better access to, our childhood memories and emotions (Mac's, 1988; 1989; 1991;
Miezltis-MatTss, 1990; MiezTtis, 1987). It is also less sophisticated, but not restricted (Norvilas, 1990). Thus, the decision regarding the choice of language in the interviews was more complicated than it first appeared; however, since the study was to be initially presented in
English, and the choice of English also simplified the compilation of transcripts and the text and
made them directly accessible to the thesis committee, my preference was for English.
From previous experience, however, I found that the choice of language varies from
person to person and from situation to situation, therefore, I explained my reasons for preferring
the use of English during the interviews to the participants. I left the final choice up to them, and
encouraged the movement between languages if that facilitated easier communication. For the most part, the participants felt comfortable speaking mostly in English.
Researching the personal in a small community. This research approach required greater depth and was more intrusive into the
participants' lives, as well as mine, and as such raised a web of ethical and personal issues that needed to be addressed. Concerns and questions raised and experienced by both the participants and myseff during this process revolved around the exploration and documentation of thoughts, reactions, feelings and facts regarding the family and the Latvian community. In examining the indiwidual narratives within Me social, political, historical, cultural, and psychological context within which they are naturally embedded, I was continually challenged by the need to treat family and community issues sensitively and accurately. Other issues which arose during the interviewing involved: relationships between myself and the participants (complicated by the fact that I already had outside relationships with the participants -- it was not just a researcher- participant relationship); confidentiality and trust; the clarification of boundaries of information shared; and of locating myself in the research. In creating a public document where these experiences, thoughts, and reactions are voiced, the challenge was to tell as much of the story as possible while protecting the anonymity of the participants. and reducing the risk for myself, the researcher. Apart from being personally interested in the research question and finding the process to
be highly rewarding, there were also distinct advantages to my involvement in this type of
research. Since I am a member of the Latvian community living in Toronto, I understand and share
many of the experiences discussed by my participants regarding aspects of the community while
growing up, as well as their possible meaning or significance. I had the background knowledge to
compare and contrast the similarities and differences of individual's experiences of the same
events, activities, places, people, culture. and institutions, which enhanced the potential for more complex and meaningful interpretations. For the most part. it was helpful to interview participants
with whom I had a previous relationship because it helped to quickly establish and maintain the necessary level of comfort and mutual trust needed to delve more deeply into this complex topic.
The issue of mutual trust assumed even greater significance because the work between researcher and participants focused on the experiences of people belonging to the same small community. In dealing with these issues, questions emerged not only regarding the basis for choosing participants, and the advantages and disadvantages of those choices but, also, how close is too close? (Matiss, 1994b).
Ethical issues. Research involving people's lives requires the careful consideration of ethical issues (see
Bertaux, 1981; Cole, 1994; Oakley, 1981; Plummer, 1983; Riddell, 1989; Seidman, 1991; and
Taylor and Bogdan, 1984). These issues are an integral part of this kind of work. and I have already discussed many of them. The more formal ethical guidelines as required by the Ontario
Institute for Studies in Education of the University of Toronto were addressed in the design of this study and outlined in the letter of consent. Thus, written informed consent was obtained from each participant (see Appendix C). Participant anonymity was protected by allowing the women to choose the pseudonyms by which their stories were identified within the text. Identifying information was omitted or disguised as much as possible, and the final version of the stones was checked with each participant regarding these issues. 2.3.2 Storinq the Research Materials
Plummer (1983) suggests a number of useful strategies for managing the large quantities of qualitative material gathered in life history work. This section addresses how the research materials, already described in the previous section, were stored. The interviews were tape recorded, and written notes were made during the interviews. The tapes were transcribed on computer by a professional transcriber. I listened to the tapes and checked that the transcripts were accurate. I had copies of the transcripts on computer disk and in hard copy. Each participant also received hard copies of the inteMew transcripts, and had the opportunity to comment on the content and accuracy-
The approach I used to organize this material was similar to that described by Plummer
(1 983) who recommended that at least three forms of files should be used: a master file, analytic files, and a personal log. A master file, a reference containing the complete raw materials, was compiled for each participant. The initially collected material (the transcripts, the interview notes, and the process or field notes, as well as, other written material such as skeletal chronologies of life events) were stored separately for each partidpant in a separate binder. Material for each interview was dated, and filed in chronological order in a separate tabbed section of the binder. A complete set of the transcripts and process notes was also stored on computer.
A series of evolving analytic fies were also used extensively in this study. These consisted of both, what I call, the working files on my computer and hand written notes. The process of how I worked with these files is described in greater detail in the section on description, presentation, and interpretation. As I worked with the transcripts, thematic material was placed in appropriate files for each participant's individual story as well as for Me overarching themes which emerged. New working files were generated on an ongoing basis as the analysis and restorying processes evolved. I also kept a personal log, my research jou ma1
in which I documented my changing perspective during the course of the research.
2.3.3 Description, Presentation, and Interpretation
You are not pufting together a punle, whose picture you already know. You are cmstmcfrng a picture which takes shape as you collect and examine the parts. (Bogdan 8 Biklen, 1982)
The description, presentation, and interpretation of the research materials included the
following: (1) the description and interpretation of the context for the stories; (2) the individual
stories presented in the participants' own words, followed by my commentaries; (3) the
presentation and interpretation of the common themes which emerged from the analysis of the
individual stories; (4) the exploration of how the broader themes inform the unfolding story of lives
in changing contexts.
Description of the context.
Development of the descriptive material is every bit as much an interactive process as is any subsequent analysis or interpretation. (Wolcott, 1994, p. 21 )
The purpose of the context chapter is to present a representation of the context for the women's stories. This begins with a selective overview of concepts related to ethnicity. This is
followed by an introduction to narrative ways of exploring these issues from the perspective of intentionality, culture, and personal meaning. Then the participants are briefly introduced to assist
the reader in locating them in the community context. The re-presentation of the community context focuses on those aspects of the Latvian community in exile which are relevant to the participants' stories. The context re-presentation could be described as a subjective account by those who
have lived in the community during the period described. This context re-presentation was
compiled from my own knowledge and experiences of Me community, that of the partidpants, and from conversations with other members of the community with whom I consulted warding their impressions and the accuracy of some of the information presented, as well as several published accounts of certain aspects of the community activities and dynamics. This was an extremely difficult chapter to write because the content deals with both the positiie and negative aspects of community life, particularly those that impacted on our lives, the lives of the second generation.
Attempts have been made by other researchers and writers to document their Eastern
European immigration and community experiences in Canada prior to glasnost, for example,
Kostash (1977') All of Babas Children, Danys (1986) DP Lithuanian Immigration to Canada Afier the Second World War, and Aun (1985) The Political RefUgees: A History of Estonians in
Canada. Such a comprehensive text has not been written to date, however, about Latvians in
Canada during the post W.W.11 era. Specific aspects of the Latvian community have been described in various sources (e.g. Bulmanis, 1996; Lieping, 1987; MiezTtis, 1979; 1989; 1990;
Mieziti & Dreifelds, 1998; Miezitis & Troemel, 1991 ; Purvs, 1991 ; Vys-Freibergs, 1991 ; 1993).
Presentation of the stories.
The lifehistory researcher is more than an elicitor of and listener to life stones, and the partiapant is more than a teller of tales. In life-history research interpretation and story rewnst~cbonbecome the fecal point; researcher and participant, therefore, are engaged as partners in inquiry and story recunstnrction. (Cole, IW,p. 190)
The purpose of this section is to describe the process of co-creating the stories that are presented in chapters four to nine. This collection of stories richly illustrates different experiences of growing up in families living in a community in exile as well as how these women responded to changing political and personal circumstances. The description, analysis and interpretation of the narratives and life histories was a very challenging and creative process which lasted the length of the study. There was an on-going dialogue between myself and each of the participants. As the text of the study took shape, the participants were invited to comment on the portions of the text which tell their story. It was important to verffy that their stories accurately reflected their experience and that they felt comfortable with the information presented. From the individual narratives emerged each woman's story, in the form of a limited life history account (Plummer,
1 983). Reading the stories in Gwendolyn Etter-Lewist (1993) work: My Soul is lClEy Own: Oral Nanatives of African American Women in the Professions provided an example of partiupants' stories presented in their own words in the manner described by Plumrner (1983), and this encounter inspired me and greatly influenced how I finally chose to present the stories in this study.
In many ways this is fhe truly creative part of the work - it entails brooding and reflecting upon mounds of data for long periods of time until if 'makes sense' and Yeels right', and key ideas and themes flow from it. it is also the hardest process to describe: the standard technique is to read and make notes, leave and ponder, re- read without notes, make new notes, match notes up, ponder, reread and so on. (Plummer, 1 983. p. 99)
The stories emerged from the interview material and subsequent discussions with and comments from each participant. The story representation process evolved during my interaction with the narratives. The process began during the interviewing stage of the study. I wrote notes during the interviews, highlighting what could be key ideas or themes. Following each interview I wrote down my impressions, observations, reactions, thoughts and feelings. When the interviews were transcribed, I read and re-read the transcripts several times becoming immersed in the narratives, and made detailed notes regarding possible themes and issues that I saw emerging. I then created a separate file for each participant, and copied the passages with their working subheadings into the file. The next step was to begin clustering passages with similar or related themes together. The process of working and re-working these dusters began immediately. At first, the text from the narratives was much longer Man it was possible to include in the stories. Everything felt important, and it was difficult to decide what needed to be edited out.
Also, it took several versions of each story to find the best sequence for each. Thus, the clusters of themes and issues were often shuffled. reshuffled and reorganized before they found their rightful place.
My analysis and interpretation of the narrative texts did not occur in a vacuum, since my relationship with each of the women and my growing understanding and sense of them as people also influenced and contributed to the emerging stones. As I began the process of story creation by representing the narratives, I first reviewed my notes and the transcripts, as well as, my sense of each participant, and came up with an hypothesis of each woman's central issue or focus.
The key themes emerged more easily for some stories than for others. Similarly, the themes and issues were more apparent for some participants than for others. In some cases, more time had to pass before I could get a better sense of focus for the story and bring dosure. For example, Laimdota and MHra sent me their autobiographical introductions near the beginning of this process. IngWa's autobiographical introduction memuch later. after her original story draft had been reworked seveml times. This came at a time when she had something to add to her narrative to bring closure to her story. All of these pieces of information helped to guide me in the story creation journey. Thus, I viewed the texts through the lens of the storytellers and of our relationships, through the lens of my own experience, and through the lens of the social, political, historical, cultural, familial and psychological context.
The re-storying and re-presentation process was different for each participant. Some stories emerged more easily, while others required a great deal of incubation time and many revisions before each found its true voice. The impact of the story drafts on the participants also varied. For some the content felt cornfortable from the beginning, with editing comments focusing more on clarifying and correcting, rather Man altering and deleting parts. For others, parts of the earlier drafts needed rewording and reworking to make the representations feel safe. I began the process of creating the first stories during the summer of 1994 and completed this process in the winter of 1998. The initial immersion in the narratives began during the winter and spring of 1994 and continued until the completion of the thesis.
The structure of each story is unique to each storyteller, and consequently each story has its own areas of focus, themes, and organizational style. All stories have in common an introductory section which presents Me women's autobiographical highlights of growing up in the Latvian community in exile, as well as their families' relationships to the community. Unlike some other life history presentations which may address the same topics for each participant, the unique experiences and individual issues of each woman required a more tailor made approach to storytelling. To assist the reader in following this rich tapestry of individual experiences contributing to the unfolding story of lives in changing contexts, subheadings are used to identify for the reader the key issues, themes, conflicts, dilemmas, motivations or questions which each woman addresses in the different sections of the narratives. Each story is followed by an editorial commentary which summarizes and highlights the issues and themes which emerged from the narratives.
Finally, the presentation style of the stories also differs from the rest of the text. To set the stories apart from the other chapters, they are presented in an one-and-a-half space format and the subheadings are presented in bold italics.
Interpretation of the participants' narratives.
The people who come to see us bring us their stories. They hope they tell them well enough so that we understand the truth of their lives. They hope we know how to interpret their stories wnedly. We have to remember that what we hear is their ston/ [emphasis in onginall. (Ludwig as cited by Coles, 1989, p. 7) The interpretahion of the participants' narratives is presented in two ways. First. a compilation of the common themes that emerged from the parti*apantslstories is presented in Chapter Ten. These themes pertained to such issues as family and community experiences; the interface between the Latvian and Canadian experiences; encounters with Latvia and the impact of the changing political context, the disintegration of the Soviet Union, the regaining of Latvia's independence, and consequently the changing meaning and role of the community in exile. These themes also illustrate various aspects of the broader social, political, historical, cultural, and psychological context described in this study. In Chapter Eleven I present my interpretation of the themes derived from the partidpants' narratives and discuss how they inform their life experiences in a changing context. This is the chapter where I voice my interpretations of the psychological issues which surface and evolve, and call for resolution as the women's life stories continue to unfold in relationship to their contacts with Latvia, and the changing contexts of the
Latvian community in exile. Both of these chapters evolved in parallel to each other.
I became re-immersed in the stories and the inte~ewtranscripts for the purpose of drawing out a collection of common themes. I idenMied sections where key themes and ideas appeared in the stories. The passages were labeled in tens of the key ideas that appeared in their content, for example, "dislocation", "searching for homen, "conflict in the community",
"language issuen. These passages were then copied into a separate file with many different subheadings. As I reread these passages, I began to connect clusters of ideas that seemed to go together, and from these the larger themes emerged. I also wrote out the subheadings that I had originally used to label the passages, and examined them as a whole to see what larger themes and ideas they evoked. Both of these actions contributed to the evolution of the following common theme titles: Where ICome From and My Inherited Histom Who Am I and What Does
'Being Latvian" Mean?; Leading a Double Life and the Awareness of Difference; Finding My
Place and Facing Challenges within the Latvian Comrnunilv; My First Encounter with Latvia and
My Relationship with Latvia Now; Where Do I Belong? and Where is Home?. There was constant movement and weaving back and forth between the theme chapter, the story chapters and the interpretation chapters. In Chapter Eleven three more univelsal themes began to emerge as I reflected on how changing contexts impinge on lives: inherited histow us and them; and losses and gains. This is the chapter where I present my interpretations, and examine them in relation to other views reflected in the literature.
In summary, for this study I chose to use a qualitative approach involving life history research. The open interview format gave the palticipants voice and allowed their experiences to unfold in a meaningful way. This approach proved to be both powerful and creative. Through the inteMew narratives the participants shared and explored the impact of their experiences and perspectives on their sense of self and their understanding of their lives in changing times. From these narratives emerged the women's stories which then led to the unfolding story of lives in changing contexts.
The participants' narratives were presented and interpreted through the following lenses: The lens describing the context for the stories; the lens of the co-creation of the women's individual stories, including my commentaries on the stones; the lens of interpretation of mmmon themes which emerged from the stories; and the lens of exploration of how these themes inform the unfolding story of lives in changing contexts. These are presented in the following chapters. Chapter Three
The Context for the Stories
LifihiStoy research goes beyond mere arba~lationand documentation of pemna/ experience to a more thoughitid process of meaninprnaking, grounded in ihe contexts of personal and social history. (Cole, 1991 , p. 191)
The purpose of this chapter is to present a brief overview of concepts of ethnicity; to introduce narrative ways of exploring these issues from the perspective of intentionality, culture and personal meaning; to briefly introduce the storytellers; and to outline the context for study, in order to create the backdrop for the life stories. The context areas which are outlined in this chapter indude the familial, historical, political, social, cultural, educational, and youth mwement aspects of the Latvian communcty in exile. Although emphasis is on the Toronto community, other Latvian events and activities relevant to the participants' experience are also induded in the context.
3.1 Concepts of Ethnicity
The present study focuses on the life experiences of Latvian-Canadian women in a changing social-political context which blings into focus issues pertaining to one's ethnic group membership, ethnic identification, and sense of self. An overview of the literature on ethnic identity and ethnic language acquisition, retention and maintenance indicates a wide variety of methodological approaches to research on ethnicity in different disciplines. The complexity of this field of study is further reflected in the diversity of definitions related to ethnicity that are used by different investigators (see Cheung, 1979; Driedger, 1989; Isajiw, 1993; Phinney, 1990; Phinney
& Rotheram, 1987 for extensive reviews of this literature). For example, Shibutani and Kwan (1965) define an ethnic group as "those who conceive of themselves as alike by virtue of their common ancestry, real or fictitious, and who are so regarded by others." In addition to having a common national origin, race, andlor religion, Gordon (1 964) further defines an ethnic group as a group with a "shared sense of peoplehood" (p. 24). The term, ethnic group, has been also used to refer to a minority group within a larger culture (Rothemm & Phinney, 1987). Ethnic groups usually consist of a multigenerational membership. To avoid confusion, O'Bryan, Reitz and Kuplowska (1976) distinguished between first, second and third generation members of ethnic groups. Thus first generafion refers to persons not born in Canada; second generation to persons born in Canada of noneanadian born parents; and third generation refen to persons born in Canada of Canadian-born parents and non-Canadian born grandparents.
The term ethnicity is taken "from the Greek word for nation, ethnos, which usually means a group characterized by common descent" (Cheung, 1979, p. 47). Ethos is defined by
The New Lexicon Webstefs Dictionary of the English Language (1987) as "the spirit of a people, a civilization or a system, as expressed in its culture, institutions, ways of thought, philosophy and religionn (p. 324). DeVos (1975) states that, in its narrowest sense, ethnicity refers to "a feeling of continuity with the past, a feeling that is maintained as an essential part of one's self- definition. Ethnicity is also intimately related to the individual need for collective continuity" (p.
17)). McAdoo (1993) suggests that ethnicity is fundamental to our identity, and "involves unique family customs, proverbs, and stones that are passed on for generations ... [and] includes the celebrations, the foods that are eaten, the religious ceremonies that are shared, and the stories of how the first family members came to this land* (p. ix). McGoldrick, Pearce, and Giordano (1 982) add that ethnicity patterns our thinking, feelings, and behaviour in both explicit and subtle ways.
It encompasses more than ancestry, race, religion, or national origin (Rotheram & Phinney, 1987), and indudes "group patterns of values, social customs, perceptions, behavioural roles, language usage, and rules of social interactions that group members share" (Barth, 1969; Ogbu, 1981 as cited in Phinney & Rotheram, 1987, p.11). Ethnic identity, as defined by Rothemm and Phinney (1987) for example, in its broadest sense refers to "one's sense of belonging to an ethnic group and the part of one's thinking, perceptions, feelings. and behaviour that is due to ethnic group membership" (p. 13). It is different from ethnicity "in that ethnicity refers to group patterns and ethnic iden?@ refers to Me individual's acquisition of group patterns" (Ibid, p.13). Furthermore, % is argued that one's ethnic identity is "conceptually and functionally separate from one's personal identity as an individual. even though the two may reciprocally influence each other (Ibid. p. 13). Rotheram and Phinney
(1987) also suggest that ethnic identity includes many components such as: ethnic attitudes (feelings about own and other groups); ethnic awareness (the understanding of one's own and other groups); ethnic self-identification (the label used for one's own group); and ethnic behaviours (behaviour patterns specific to an ethnic group).
lsajiw (1990) describes ethnic identity as a soaal-psychological phenomenon that derives from membership in an ethnic group. According to lsajiw (1990), we can distinguish between external and internal aspects of ethnic identity. Extemal aspects refer to observable behaviour, both cultural and social, whereas, the internal, subjective aspects of ethnic identity refer to images, ideas, attitudes, and feelings (p. 36). The internal and the external are interconnected; however, it can not be assumed that the two types are always dependent upon each other.
Locating oneself in relation to a community and soaety is not only a psychological phenomenon, but also a social phenomenon in the sense that the intemal psychologiml states express themselves objectively in extemal behaviour patterns that come to be shared by others. Thus, individuals locate themselves in one or another communify internally by states of mind and feelings, such as self- definitions or feelngs of closeness, and externally by behaviour appropriate to these states of mind and feelings. Behaviour according to cultural pattems is thus an expression of identity and can be studied as an indication of its character. (lsajiw, 1990, p. 35)
Norvilas (1992) in his exploration of ethnic consciousness in second generation Lithuanian youth brings a phenomenological perspective into the study of ethnic identification. His interview questions ask the participants to reflect on their thoughts and emotions, as well as, their self- awareness, and feelings of pride or embarrassment associated with their ethnicity. He also raises questions regarding whether and how ethnicity affects the individual's goals and actions, and whether the individual experiences conflict or tension in relation to being American or Lithuanian.
Reviews of the literature pertaining to models of ethnic identity development (see
Driedger, 1989; bar, 1996; Ph inney , 1990; Spezzano. 1995) reveal attempts to conceptualize notions of individual and group ethnic identity development which could be applied cross- culturally.
For example, Phinney (1989) proposes a three stage model of ethnic identity development which draws on common elements described in other earlier models. The stages are termed: (1 ) unexamined ethnic identity; (2)ethnic identify search; and (3) achieved ethnic identity. Unewamined ethnic identity is attributed to individuals who have not consciously examined and worked through ethnic identity issues. Other aspects in this first stage include the diffuse identity on the one hand, where young people have little interest in and give little thought to their ethnicity; and the foreclosed identity on the other, where they identify with their parents' culture without having given it much thought. In the second stage, referred to as ethnic identity search. the exploration of one's ethnic identity is often brought on by a significant experience that raises awareness of one's ethnicity. This experience usually involves a period of intense immersion in one's own culture, and could also invoke rejection of the dominant culture.
The third stage, known as achieved ethnic identily, is reached following a period of exploration as the individual internalizes, and comes to better understand and value his or her ethnicity.
These definitions and theoretical perspectives offer a number of ways to conceptualize ethnicity and ethnic identity; however, I concur with Spezzano's (1995) comments based on his study of second generation Italian-Canadians regarding the usefulness of these models in understanding lived experience: I believe that the theories around ethnic identity development are helpful as internal signposts to experience, and Mile the 'bnexamined, searched and achieved" sense of ethnic identity can be seen in the interviews with pamipants and is something 1 myself have felt, 1 Isofeel that identity development is a mud, more h01i~cexperience, where amiCcal demarcations do not match the process of real experience in form or in time. (p. 44450)
Thus. although Me women's stories presented in this study illustrate aspects of these stages at varying times in their lives, beginning with unexarnined or foredosed identities related to family socialization practices, then at some later point in time going through a process of identity search and possibly even reaching the uachievednstatus, this view does not capture the whole story. Furthermore, these models do not consider an emerging or changing context which further complicates these issues and calls for reevaluation and renegotiation of ethnic identity, as was the case when Latvia regained its independence.
3.2 Intentionality. Culture and Personal Meaning
The wok of Bruner (1990) and Shweder (1991) explores conceptual approaches from the perspective of cultural psychology. This perspective calls for the need to locate and interpret the meaning of people's experiences in context. Shweder (1991) describes cultural psychology as Me 'study of intentional worlds", of how individuals function in a particular intentional wodd, and of how any intenf onal world is maintained interpersonally (p. 76). This viewpoint resonates with my own interest in exploring the meaning of individual experience from this perspective.
Albert and Triandis (1 985) suggest that every cultural group has its own unique subjective culture (Triandis, 1WZ), which influences how people behave, and how they perceive their own and ohets behaviours. It is also suggested by the authors that the elements of which these behaviour patterns and subjective cultures are comprised, are functional to meet the demands of the environment within which a given ethnic group has lived for long periods of time.
Bruner (1 990) argues for the importance of listening to what people say. He states that a culturally sensitive psychology "is and must be based not only upon what people actually do, but what they say they do and what they say caused them to do what they did. It is also concemed with what people say others did and why. And above all, it is concerned with what people say their wodds are like" (p. 16). Bruner (1990) points out that since "the rejection of introspection as a core method of psychology, we have been taught to treat such 'said' accounts as untrustworthy, even in some odd philosophical way as untrue' (p. 16). Thus, the statement 'what people say is not necessarily what they do' suggests that "what people do is more important, more 'real', than what they say, or that the latter is important only for what it can reveal about the former" (Bruner, 1990, p.17).
Bruner (1990) makes compelling arguments thrwghout his book Ads of Meaning, to bring "meaning" into its rightful place in "scientific" psychology, theory and research, from which it has been systematically displaced and attacked by behaviourists and more recently by Me "cognitive revolution" led astray. He argues that the 'central concept of a human psychology is meaning and the processes and transactions involved in the construction of meanings" (p. 33). This is based on the following: first, to understand people we need to understand how their experiences and their "acts" are shaped by their "intentional states" (beliefs, desires. commitments etc.), and second, that "the form of these intentional states is realized only through participation in the symbolic systems of the culture" (p. 33). This points to the importance of examining personal experiences, meaning and "intentional states" within the context of culture, in this paRicular case, both Latvian and Canadian.
Part of the Latvian culture is embedded within a rich collection of Latvian folklore and mythology which has influenced many of us in direct and indirect ways. For example, through Latvian folksongs, folkdances, folktales, traditions, ceremonies, jewelry, and foods we have sensed our common symbols of what being Latvian means (e.g. Carpenter, 1992; smidchens, 1996; wis-Freibergs, 1989a; 1989b; 1991 ; ws-Freibergs 8 Freibergs, 1988). Thus, it was important to include these in the contextual analysis and interpretation of the nanatives. Similarly, history is also part of culture, as is literature from Latvia and the West Relevant aspects of these also find their voice or their place in the text. Also related to culture, intentional worlds, intentional states and personal meaning is the social, cultural, political and histon'cal context (of the Latvian communities in exile, tatvia, and Canada) of the past fifty years, which has been documented and illustrated in a number of sources. For example, newspaper, magazine and journal articles, history books, and other relevant literature from both the West and Latvia provide valuable information to describe the backdrop and texture of this time period (e.g. Bulmanis. 1996; Carpenter, 1 992; Dreifelds, 1996; Miezlts & Dreifelds, 1 998; Nesaule, 1 995; PlakBns, 1 995;Smidchens, 1996; Qis-F reibergs, 1 993).
In the following sections I attempt to describe the emerging and changing context within which the women's stones are embedded; beginning with the personal context by presenting brief introductions which summarize highlights of each participant's biography in relation to growing up in a Latvian family in Canada. followed by a description of the community context focusing on the political, historical, social, cultural, educational, and youth movement aspects of Me Latvian community in Toronto.
3.3 Introducing the Storytellers
Each pam'cipant is briefly introduced in this section. The purpose of introducing the storytellers in this chapter is to assist the reader in beginning to understand how and where each person's story connects with events and issues raised in describing the context for the stories.
3.3.1 lnqrida
lngrida was bom and grew up in a traditional Laivian family in Toronto, but was encouraged to participate in almost every type of community activity for children and youth in Toronto and abroad. She has been actively involved in the Toronto Latvian community since childhood, attending Latvian school, singing in choirs, dancing in the folkdance group ~iidands, participating in Latvian Brownies and Girl Guides, going to Latvian summer camps as a child and
2x2, a LaMan youth immersion seminar, in her adolescent years. She also attended the Latvian high school in Muenster, Germany, and studied in the Latvian program at Westem Michigan University. She has pursued post secondary education experiences, but only recently has found
a program that she finds satisfying. She was interested in participating in the study because she
felt that she was in the process of exploring her own sense of identity, and thought that telling her story could be both interesting and possibly helpful to her own process.
3.3.2 -MSra MSra grew up in Toronto in a liberally minded family and, along with her parents and siblings, was actively involved in the Latvian community. She attended Sunday school, both Latvian elementary schools, the Toronto Latvian high school as well as one of the Latvian summer high schools in the United States. She also danced in the dance group ~Edancis,sang in choirs, attended Song Festivals, and was active in the Latvian Girl Guide organization. As a child she went to Latvian summer camps, and participated in 2x2 Latvian youth immersion seminars as a young adult. She completed her post secondary education in Toronto. She went to Latvia for a six month visit in the spring of 1992, and has continued to extend her stay to this date. At this time she still feels ambivalent about where "home" will ultimately be. She originally participated in my pilot interviews regarding her experiences in Latvia, and in the fall of 1993, while on a brief visit to Canada, agreed to participate in the current life history study.
3.3.3 Laimdota
Laimdota comes from a progressively minded family of innovative community leaders, and has herself been a key player in the evolution of the Latvian youth movement. Although Toronto was considered a home base for her family, much of her life has been spent living abroad. While in Toronto, she attended Latvian school, participated in folk dancing, theater, and in leadership roles in the communw, for example, in the 2x2 Latvian youth immersion seminars, as initiator of the annual Latvian youth arts' weekend event &~kslair Jauna (SMU, as President of the Latvian National Youth Association in Canada, and as an organizer for the World Latvian Youth Congress in Belgium and the Baltic Peace and Freedom Cruise. She has had on-going contact with Latvia. Her career in public relations and communications has taken her abroad since the mid-
1980s. She has been living in Latvia since the fall of 1993. In deciding to move to Latvia, Laimdota found herself at a new turning point in her life, and was willing to share this experience in the context of this study.
3.3.4 Valeska
Valeska grew up in Toronto. She attended both the Latvian elementary school and high school as well as the Latvian high school in Muenster, Germany. Her family participated in and aligned with the more traditional aspects of the community's social and cultural life. During her childhood most of her social experiences were within Me Latvian community, these included folk dancing, singing, theater performances, and summer camp. She pursued her post secondary education and graduate work in Toronto. While in university she discovered her love for and talent in the arts, and found this to be a more satisfylng medium for giving voice than political science or history. She has since been pursuing her career as an artist, alternating between commercial work and personal projects, and has been exploring issues related to identity in her own work. She first expressed an interest in my work and indicated a willingness to collaborate with me when we were both in Latvia during the summer of 1992. She has since returned to Latvia on several occasions to work on her own projects. Issues around inherited histoly and "Where is home?" are among the driving questions in her work.
39.5 llga
llga has lived most of her life in Toronto. She attended Latvian school, and was eager to participate in other community activities, but experienced restrictions in her choices in her conservatively oriented family. She danced in the folk dance group ~isdancis,sang in choirs, attended and then worked at summer camp, and participated in theater groups. As a young adult, she became active in leadership roles in the community, as President for the Latvian National Youth Association in Canada, and as an organizer of a 2x2 Latvian youth immersion seminar in Germany, and in one of the Toronto Latvian schools. She also spent several years teaching and working at the Latvian high school in Muenster, Germany. Although, she completed a university
degree in science right after high school, she only recently began the academic pursuit of her true love - folklore. In the spring of 1993, llga was in the process of many renegotiations, including the impact of her upcoming marriage, and was willing to explore these in the context of this study.
3.3.6 -llze llze was raised in Toronto in a liberally-minded family, and along with her siblings and parents, was active in the Latvian community. From early childhood she danced in the folkdance group Difdancs - of which her father has been the leader for the past four decades. She attended Latvian summer camps and Brownies, played on Latvian volleyball teams, and sang in choirs. She graduated from both Man elementary schools and attended the Latvian high school in Toronto, 2x2 seminars, and Western Michigan University Latvian summer course. llze has served on the Executive of LNJAK, has worked as a camp counsellor at a Latvian summer camp, and taught at Valodiga for six years. She has explored the meaning of ethnic identity and language retention through research and has presented her work at seminars and conferences.
She chose to continue to explore this topic in her Ph.D. dissertation in an attempt to understand her own and others' experiences in growing up Latvian in Canada, and to come to terms with and adapt to a changing context.
3.4 Re-presentinq the Community Contexts
This is a representation of the Latvian community in exile as experienced by myself, the participants, and our generation. It is a subjective account of the community that is relevant to the stories, and according to Wolcott (1994) this is part of the descriptive data. A valuable aspect of life history research is that individual life stories are examined within the broader farnilid, social, political, historical, cultural, and psychological context within which they are embedded. The individual women's stories in changing times were therefore located and examined within the broader life history context.
The information described in this chapter is mainly based on stories, my own and that of the participants. Many controversial aspects of the community in exile and events that occurred in the life of the community have not been systematically documented from an historical perspective. Although there are several accounts that discuss various aspects of community dynamics (egg. Bulmanis, 1996; Matiss & Miezitis, 1989; Mieiitis & Dreifelds, 1998; Vvs-Freibergs, 1993). the Latvian history in Canada still remains to be written.
1 actually think it's very good to be doing this because it's an oral history that is definitely not reflected in whatever was published, in Latvian regular newspapers, as I think with a lot of things that happened in exile, the tme happenings have not been recorded anywhere. However, than come in time and with stories, digging around. (Laimdota)
3.4.1 Familial Farnily relationships, upbringing, attitudes, values, experiences, conflicts, interactions with the Latvian and Canadian communities and with Latvia all contribute to the context of each woman's personal story. In telling their stories, each participant highlights some of the familial issues that have been relevant in her life. The familial context provides one of the lenses through which each woman viewed, experienced and evaluated the other context areas discussed below.
3.4.2 Historical, Political
Those who had ventured back [to Latvia] in the late sixties and early seventies were viewed with suspicion and even considered to be communist supportem by the conservative wing of the Latvian community and some were expelled from ofice in Latvian oganirations. The offaal pow of Latvian organizations in the West was that there should be no contact. Mmy families had been separated during and fo//owing the Second World War. People took the bare essentials hen Bey left Latvia. The expectation that they would return to Latvia within the next five years quiddy faded. 73ey were now refugees in exile in the f~ wodd. As the regime persisted, people gave up hope of ever redarning their homeland. To us it seemed that wantin to reconnect with the fatherland, "ternemen,and birthplace, "dzmtene: and to t?nd lost famly, friends, and homes was a natural step, but this was not so for others. There was too much pain, guilt, loss ... (Ilze)
Following W.W.11, Latvia, a country independent since November 18, 1918. was swallowed up by the Soviet Union. Politid instability throughout W.W.11, including the alternating occupation of Latvia by both German and Soviet forces and mass deportations to Siberia of Latvian intelligentsia, prompted a mass exodus of about 150,000 political refugees from Latviato Germany and Sweden during the summer and fall of 1944 as the Russian front moved westward. Displaced Persons camps became home to thousands of tatvian refugees in allied occupied West Germany. Since, Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania had been independent countries prior to the war, the displaced persons from the Baltic countries were not repatriated to the Soviet Union by the Americans (Baltais, Ph.D. dissertation in progress). Following the war, the displaced persons from the Baltics and other formerly independent Eastern European states gradually negotiated new countries to call home. The major host countries included Canada, the United States, Australia, England, and Sweden; with smaller numbers finding their new homes in France. Belgium, Venezuela, Argentina. and Brazil (Dreifelds, 1991 ; Miezitis & Dreifelds, 1998). Several thousand, particularly those who muld not emigrate for health or family reasons stayed behind in Germany. The terms for immigration varied, but many entered Canada as gold miners, loggers, farm hands and household help. After their contract year was up, they gravitated towards Me larger urban centers - Vancouver. Winnipeg, Montreal, and Toronto. According to the 1991 census. of the 20 445 people claiming sole or mixed Latvian ethnic origin living in Canada, two- thirds resided in Southern Ontario. (Dreifelds, 1991; Miezitis & Dreifelds, 1998)
Originally, the refugees hoped that the Soviet Union would fall, and that everyone would be able to return to the homeland. In the meantime, members of the exile communities began to rebuild the institutions which they had belonged to in Latvia. For example, Latvian teacherr provided full-time schooling in the Displaced Persons camps, and opened heritage language Saturday schools in the new host countries. Ministers forrned new congregations. Sororities and fraternities continued their traditions and resumed their ale as social organizations and forums for university educated Latvians. The Boy Scout and Girl Guide organizations resumed their activities. Dance groups and choirs were formed. Later as Latviansresettled in their host countries, business and professional organizations emerged. Credit unions also were established. Professionals, such as dentists and doctors, sought licensing and formed their own associations. Political umbrella organizations were created in each country for the purpose of representing the interests of Latvia in the international arena, reminding the free world of unlawful Soviet occupation, and to represent the viewpoints of the local communities in exile. Eventually a World Federation of Free Latvians, Pasaules Bmu Latvkh Apvieniba (PBLA), was organized to facilitate networking among Latvians from the four continents in the West Latvians are viewed as one of the most highly organized groups of emigrb from Eastern Europe. This has its advantages in terms of maintaining contact and communication; however, it also means competition since Mere are usually too many organizations for the potential number of participants. For example, there are several Latvian schools, congregations, and summer camps sewing the Toronto area alone. (Miems & Dreifelds, 1998)
Latvian community life in exile centered around the churches and the soda1 and political organizations which supported political activism, cultural activities and events, educational institutions, as well as activities for children and youth. The size and atmosphere of the communities in exile varied greatly. This was influenced, among other things, by factors such as the personalities of the leaders in individual communities and the policies of the host country towards immigrants. The Toronto Latvian community, being the largest and most active, was regarded by many as the Capital of Latvians in the free wodd. It also had the notorious reputation for being a lion's den of in-fighting. It has seen dramatic rifts between its members along the lines of political ideology represented by extreme viewpoints on the traditional conservative versus Me progressive liberal continuum. The more extreme representatives of the right wing anti- Communist viewpoint resorted to witch hunts blackballing more liberal thinking individuals as 'pinkos" and communists. Related to these political differences were generational conflicts with the conservative members of the older generations being overly critical and unsuppoltive of the younger generation's initiatives in the community to the point where many young people withdrew from the community altogether. Cliquishness was also a trademark of the Toronto community - not only were the Torontonians known to be entrenched in their ideas and approaches, they were also not particularly welcoming of outsiders and newcomers. Even young people in Toronto were known to prefer to stay with their own closed groups (folk dance groups, choirs, sports dubs, classmates, and so on) and were often perceived to be unfriendly to outsiders. There was often unhealthy competition between groups that discouraged friendships or socializing between groups; and finally, a tendency to be overly critical and find fault with other groups' viewpoints and efforts, and to discredit the work done in other Latvian communities. For example, students who participated in other educational experiences, such as summer high schools in the United States, were initially not given credii for their work by the Toronto Latvian high school.
I think that Latvians from North America are very dique oriented people and theyVe sort of formed this Meof exdusivity. That goes for whereveryou go. If you're a Canadian Latvian going into Me States, then you tend to hang out more with Canadian Latvians because that's your safety net. If you're a foreigner in Latvia. you'll hang out with foreigners as a safety net - I mean its all around. For example, /I'm very consaous of the fact that a lot of foreigners in Latvia tend to speak English in front of the locals, Wich I find extremely annoying and verging on the obnoxious. (MHra)
There was a lot to be experienced in Muenster, although people were already saying it was not We place it had been in the 1970s but there were still a lot of the interesting viewpoints and opportunities for discussion and learning. Toronto is such a closed, closed club that if you had dissenting opinions even within the proper politicai spectrum they'd still allyou a communist or God knows what. It was here that I ot an outsider's view of the Toronto Latvian community as a really weird an #nasty place. (Ilga)
One of the fiercest and most unpleasant controversies in the Toronto Latvian community centered around the efforts to establish contacts with Latvia's contemporary culture (films,poetry, prose, art, drama, and so on) and to dialogue with the artists and writers from Latvia (Bulmanis, 1996). The Toronto Latvian community's reaction to this controversy was again more polarized, extreme, and vindictive than elsewhere in the West. The more liberal minded wanted the contact and the dialogue to renew a connection with Latvia. and to supplement the transplanted-from- independence-years-Latvia and maddn-the-West culture with professional, contemporary culture from Soviet-occupied-but-nonetheless-Latvia. The people who sought these cultural contacts were also aware of Soviet propaganda and censorship practices. but were able to sift out what was of value in the contemporary arts by reading between the lines and recognizing the metaphors used by the artists. The Soviet chaperones who were sent along with the artists were distracted and at times "entertained" elsewhere to allow the artists to interact with western Latvians without supervision. It was also seen as an opportunity to broaden the vision of Latvians from Latvia by providing new experiences and by dialoguing with them - to exchange ideas, to challenge beliefs, to understand their experiences. to gain insight into their thinking, and to nourish their minds w'th democratic ideas and practices. The fows was on culture and our own form of Western propaganda as we exposed the guests to the various benefits of freedom, democracy, and capitalism.
The conservative viewpoint and the official "party linenof the Toronto based Latvian National Association in Canada (LNAK- the Latvian political umbrella organization in Canada) on the issue of contact with Latvian artists, writers, filmmakers was that it was political treason. There were several major issues involved: collaboration with communist bureaucrats to arrange for these cultural visits and the fact that only some artists. those who passed the party censorship were allowed to travel abroad. Furthermore since the communities in exile did not recognize the occupation of Latvia by the Soviets, it was unacceptable to enter into any kind of cultural negotiations with Latvia-via-Moscow because such an act acknowledged the regime and thus compromised the political exile status of the community.
Differing philosophies and emphases are understandable. What was more difficult to accept, was how the leaders and some of the followers of the conservative wing of the community attempted to annihilate those whose focus was on the cultural rather than Me political. The people organizing and participating in cultural contacts were labeled "pinkosnor communists. attempts were made to sabotage their participation in the life of the community, slanderous lies were printed about these people in the local Latvian newspaper supporting the idea that these people were communists, they were ostracized and were forced out of some of their community work, or the activities and institutions that they were involved in also became suspect. Thus, for example, young people were dissuaded from attending the Western Michigan University Latvian Language program because of the lecturers' tolerant attitudes towards Maand interest in contemporary developments in the arts. The organizers of these cultural events were under attack, however, those who supported them and attended their events were also linked to the "betrayal? All of this hatred spilled out over gatherings where Latvian feature films were shown, poetry and prose was read by the writers and poets, and art was exhibited. In the beginning a large number of community members partiapated, among those were also people who later became the aggresson. In later years, with increasing ostracization, the gatherings became smaller with only about fifty to one hundred people attending.
I was intimately affected by this ostracization. My husband's parents were organizers and my family were supporters. It was a very angry and ugly time in our community. Many people were hurt by the lies and fabrications. The women in this study were also affected by this. MHra and Laimdota also came from families which supported the cultural contacts with Latvia. Ingn'da was interested in these experiences and attended events surreptitiously. Ilga's and ValeskaJsfamilies represented more conservative viewpoints which influenced their experience in the community.
Ironically, with Gorbachev's policy of glasnost opinions about contact with Latvian culture quickly changed in Toronto. A world renowned Latvian chamber choir Ave So/ was the first cultural exchange group to be welcomed by many from the conservative wing of the community in 1986, when the choir performed at Roy Thompson Hall. The same choir was invited to perform at the West Coast Latvian Song Festival in 1989, an unprecedented event. The floodgates for cultural exchange were open. Similar controversies and cn'ses surrounded personal contacts with Latvia. Anyone who visited Latvia in the late 1960s or eady 1970s was immediately suspected to be a communist supporter or collaborator of some sort, and some of those who held leadership positions in the community in the early 1970s were asked to resign. In the late 1970s and early 1980s more people began to visit Latvia (I went to Latvia in 1978 when I was thirteen); however, the Toronto community as a whole was still suspiaous of people who went. It was the opinion of many from the older generation Mat their Latvia, the one they had to leave behind, no longer existed, and Mat there was no reason to go there. Wm glasnost visits to Latvia became mainstream, as did welcoming visitors from LaWa The folklore movement's resurgence and resistance to Soviets in Latvia in the 1970s and 1980s paved the road to Latvia's independence (Smidchens. 1996). In the late 1980s there was a great deal of dialoguing between western Latvians and Latvia's leaden as they were redaiming Latvia's independence. The summer of 1990 proved to be another turning point. when many people made their first pilgrimage to Latvia to attend or to participate in the first Sree" (not dominated by communist policies) song festival where Latvian singers and dancers from the West were invited to partidpate. Carpenter's (1992) research, touched on in the next section, on the 1990 Song Festival experience in Latvia. gives insight into relations between Latvians in the homeland and in exile, and provides a compelling analysis of the complexity of this issue.
All the participants in this study have been involved in the political life of the community to a greater or lesser degree at some point in time. Political activism in the form of rallies and demonstrations was the strongest during the 1970s and early 1980s, at the time of the Helsinki (1976, 1986) and Madrid (1980) conferences, and this tended to be a uniting force for people across generations, and of different political views. Yearly demonstrations and vigils were held on June 14th to remember the mass deportation of Latvi-ans to Siberia by the Soviets during W.W.11. November 18th is Latvia's Independence Day which is remembered in many ways including a church service bringing together all the congregations under one roof. as well as political rallies and seminars. The youth movement evolved both together with and in reaction to the views and activities of the older generation. Contacts with Latvia had a significant effect on Latvian youth in the West strengthening their sense of roots and belonging, their linguistic and cultural identity, and commitment to the Latvian community (Mias, 1990). These feelings are also mirrored in the participants' experiences and encounters with Latvia. Laimdota first went to Latvia in 1973. Ingfda first visited Latvia in 1986, llga in 1988, and MZra during the summer of 1990. Valeska worked on a prqed in Latvia during the summer of 1992, her first time there. My first trip to Latvia was in the spring of 1978-
This resonates with Feuewergets (1991 ) findings in her study of university students' perceptions of heritage language and ethnic identity maintenance with students from seven ethnic groups, enrolled in heritage language courses.
Students from all ethnic backgrounds in this study commented on the regenerative effects of identification with Me homeland. Visits to the ethnic homeland seemed to create a source of meaning and pride in their ethic language and culture which previously had been missing for many of the students. The 'static' immigrant picture of the 'Old Country' that they had experienced dhrou h the eyes of their parents was transfotmed into a vita/, modem way of life (p. 875).
In the same study Feuerverger (1991) noted that what emerged in both the interviews and the quantitative data was the "overwhelming strength of [the students'] sense of Canadian identity. To these students, their ethnocultural background enhances their Canadianness and their recognition of the value of the cultural and linguistic divenity of Canadian societyU(p.675). This is an important issue that emerged in the present study and a source of ambivalence for people raised in two cultures.
3.4.3 Social, Cultural The Toronto Latvian community has been very active both socially and culturally over the years. There has been a great deal of choice in how members can partidpate in the community. Much of the social life of the community has centered around its culture and its institutions. The events, activities and organizations in Toronto also connect into the worldwide network of Latvian communities. Alhough, collectively there are more Latvians living in the United States. Toronto has been the largest center for Latvians living outside of Lahria According to the 1991 Canada census information there were 7,700 people of Latvian origin living in Toronto and the surrounding area (Dreifelds, 1991). Of these, however, fewer than 3,000 could be considered to be adive in the community, that is, who bdonged and took part in organized community life (Miezns and Dreifelds, 1998).
There are many types of activities and organizations that people can participate in. In recent years there has been a down-sizing in the number of activities due to diminishing numbers and an increasing focus on Latvia. During the teenage and young adult years of the partidpants in this study who were born in the 1950s and 1960s, however, the community was in its peak of activity. Toronto has several folkdance groups for dancers of all ages, for children, young adults and pensioners. In addition to the half dozen regular choirs in Toronto, others formed sporadically for special concerts. There are heritage language and Sunday schools, as well as piano lessons and ballet classes, taught by Latvian instructors. There are Latvian sports teams, volleyball being one of the most popular sports. The Latvian Scout and Guide organizations are highly organized in the types of activities they provide, including regular meetings and annual wnps where Smuts and Guides from across the United States and Canada come together. Sororities and fraternities, and professional organizations meet regularly. There are drama dubs which perform Latvian plays. The Concert Association organizes a concert series every year featuring Latvian performers from around the world. Many of these organizations, such as the ~atvidu Cents (Canadian Latvian Cultural Centre), ~atviduNams (Latvian House), and Daugavas Vanagu Nams (the Latvian Relief Organization) organize social functions, including dances, concerts, seminars, brunches, and craft shows in their community halls. Growing up in this communrty, I, just like the other women in this study, was busy several nights of the week and on weekends, as well as during the summers participating in community activities and events.
The churches have provided rich social as well as religious opportunities for their members. The majority of Latvians are Lutherans, and there are Mree Lutheran congregations in Toronto. The Baptists and Roman Catholics also have their church services and social functions. The two largest Lutheran Churches, of which the participants are also members, run camps for children in the summers on their wunby retreats. People also own summer cottages on these church properties.
The Latvian people, tam, have a rich cultural background in folklore, mythology, literature, theater, music, folk songs, folk dance, ancient national folk costumes, jewelry, symbolic design and an oral histoy ir! verse form called dajnas which date back for many centuries. The one event that has continued to bring ail of those elements together for the past 125 yean through diierent ideological periods in Latvia as well as in exile is the Song Festival tradition.
Among the culturally and emotionally moving events were the large scale Latvian Song Festivals which were organized by Latvians living in different cities in North America, as well as, in Europe and Australia. Song Festivals gave the diierent cultural groups and organizations a specific event to prepare for, and incited youth to participate in the folk dance groups and choirs (Miezitis, 1990), and provided an opportunity for exile Latvians to experience and display solidarity (Carpenter, 1992). Musicians, artists, writers and poets, and drama dubs also participated in these festivals. It was one of the ways in which friendships among Latvians worldwide were fostered and maintained, since Latvians of all ages, including pensioners and young people, traveled to Song Festivals as performers or participants. Song Festivals traditionally have two huge events which are emotionally charged for the participants and performers. The festivals usually have an organized parade through the city where all the performers, numbering several thousand, dress in their national costumes and march spontaneously singing and dancing, usually at least several city blocks, to the stadium or auditorium where the mass Festival choir concert takes place.
The second major event is the folk dance performance, which has been held at Maple Leaf Gardens in Toronto Song Festivals and in similar locales elsewhere. During my youth there were up to a thousand dancers participating in the dance performance. During song and dance festival performances emotionally charged energy mesfrom the overwhelming number of participants from across the continent and even as far as Australia and more recently Latvia; from the feeling of connection among performers and people in the audience; the wearing of one's national costume; and the colledive singing of Latvia's National Anthem and Daugav' Abas Malas, a patriotic song which is traditionally sung at the dose of youth events and folk dance performances. All of this was all the more meaningful because during the Soviet occupation of Latvia the National anthem and flag and other patriotic songs were outlawed. Daugav' Abas Malas is symbolically charged as the lyrics evoke the sentiment of wanting to be one people with one language on both sides of Latvia's largest river, often refened to as Mother Daugava. Even now I feel teary eyed and very moved remembering my participation in these events. The other powerful experience was being with so many Latvian young people and sharing a common experience. Song Festivals also usually offer a number of other smaller performances such as plays, dassical and popular music concerts, poetry readings, dance competitions, cabarets. dinners and dances to attend.
Carpenter (1992) presents an insightful analysis of the meanings embedded in cultural performances such as song festivals and how their intentionality links them to social life. This is explored in the context of the 1990 Latvian Song Festival experience in Riga, Latvia where she researched the reactions of exiles and 'natives* to the exiles coming home for this festival, and is examined against the backdrop of the earlier social-political scene. In her paper she argues that in exile in the West "Latvians who had lost direct connections to the land and their positions of authority in the nation-state, transplanted the song festival as an event of presentation, during which Latvians could 'rebecome what they once were' (Schechner 1982, p. 41 )" (as cited in Carpenter, 1992, p. 4). Carpenter suggests that for a community which was continually under the threat of disintegration, the song festivals and other cultural events served as reintegrative rituals (Turner, 1957 as cited in Carpenter, 1992, p. 4). During the 1980s in the West, these festivals were held almost every year. The song festivals "offered pre-established times to display and experience solidarity: to load up one's batteries by being 'Latvian' in US [and Canadian] cities transformed into Riga, before again scattering and becoming American [Canadian] citizensn (Carpenter, 1992, p. 5). The conservatively minded exiles "also used song festivals to re- present social order in the homeland,'' since by denying the inclusion of "contemporary music, musicians, conductors, or choirs from Latvianin the national song festivals in the West ?hey challenged and denied homeland authority over things Lafviaf (Carpenter, 1992, p. 5). She goes on to suggest that: In contrast to this conservative center (which maintained control of the Indianapolis festival, even in 1988, when so much had changed), the more liberal segments of exile society offered alternatives at the margins. Viewing the song festival in Latvia as an event of re-presentation (not, as did their conservative counterparts, as an event of presentation), those organizing the West Coast festivals, the youth festivals, and the most recent Canadian ones incorporated aspects of musical life from Latvia, thereby, using the song festival, not as a means to cut off dialogue, but as a communicative system through mich to enter into a dialogue with those in the homeland. By singing 'Blow, Windsw(Piit, vzjio,) or adding 'For My Homelandn (Manai ddmteneQto the concert program, they indicated their recognition of planned and improvised symbolic inversions, and were, thus, in sync with homeland interpretations" (Carpenter, 1992, pp. 5-6).
Carpenter (1992) also suggested that the "Latvian Song Festival in RTga 1990 offers a testing ground for how individuals seek common identity" (p. 2). She argues that in spite of observations that Latvians "tend to distance rather than immerse themselves socially," the Song Festival itself:
offers an answer to these paradoxical musings about Latvian character. When people perform powerful symbolic action together (Kertrer, 1988) social divisions important in everyday life become unimportant.. .Through participation and emotional involvement in the 1990 song festival, exiles and natives alike could feel as one because they acted together, not because they thought together. (pp. 17- 18)
However, "after becoming Latvians in Latvia, the Zrzemes Latvians returned to being Latvians" in Canada, but the festival in Riga "was recognized as a watershed that moved resistance in the homeland from the margins to the center" (Carpenter, 1992, p. 18). The author goes on to conclude that the accounts collected in her study
reveal, that while homecoming was desired, and perhaps even expected, such union was not achieved: "The word we doesn't really fit here yet," said one man, while still in Riga. "I think ifs a general rehearsal right now, even this fantastic festival. IPS a general rehearsalnfor a possible More homecoming. (p. 19)
Meanwhile, issues affecting the communities in the West continue to impinge on community life here. Traditionally, the older generation has comprised the greatest proportion of those organizing and attending social and cultural events, and supporting them finanaally. A recent crisis for the Latvian community in the West involves the aging of the community and the new focus on Latvia, the combination of which has resulted in noticeably lower attendance at community events and a substantial decrease in donations for community-in-exile causes (Miezitis & Dreifelds, 1998).
In spite of its relatively small number of active members, the Latvian communities in exile, in Toronto as well as elsewhere in the world, provide a strong, highly organized network. Some have said in jest that "If three Latvians come together, they start three separate organizationsn (speech of the director of the American Latvian Youth Association in 1981 as cited in Carpenter 1992, p. 17). Latvians are also very territorial about their institutions.
A significant comrnunrty crisis which occuned during the lifetime of the participants in this study involved the purchase of the Latvian Canadian Cultural Centre, Centrs, in 1979. The community already owned a building, ~atvduNams the Latvian House, on College St. west of Bathunt St. The building is managed by a board of community members which owns shares in the building. The Latvian high school used the function halls for classes on Friday evenings, and Latvian community groups, the pensioner's club as well as others, rented the premises for meetings, seminars, plays, and other public and private functions. The location was not in a highly desirable area, which had a high crime rate in the late seventies. There was very limited parking, and the halls were old fashioned and very traditional. The community needs had outgrown the Latvian House, and thus many community events were held in more attractive rented halls elsewhere.
The Latvian House was bought and rebuilt by the older generation of immigrants in the early 1960s. In the late 1970s, members of the next generations wanted an attractive, welcoming place that the community could call home for its social and cuIturaI life. The advocates for creating a Centrs came mostly from the more liberal thinking, middle generation who were predominantly working professionals committed to fostering a living and evolving Latvian cultural community for their children, and who had higher expectations of where that could take place. A building suiting the needs of the community came up for sale. Thanks to the organizing efforts of a dozen very dedicated individuals, members of the community were able to purchase the building. Members from the Latvian community were invited to buy shares in the Centts to help match an Ontario government grant that had been applied for to help purchase the building (liepig;, 1987). Initially there was also the expectation that the Latvian House would be sold to help pay for the new Centre which would then become the center for all our community life. The older generation were committed to and content with Latvian House and felt threatened by the prospect of a new place, on the outskirts of Toronto, where they feared they would no longer be in control. Those who had helped to buy and rebuild the Latvian House, also feared that the community would not be able to afford such an expensive Centre.
The whole Nams versus Centrs controversy was another issue which bitterly split the community. The spreading of rumours and other unacceptable behaviours by some individuals, primarily from the pro-Nams side, flared up. Rumours included the famous Latvians-in-exile accusation that advocates of the Centrs were really communists determined to undermine the community, and eventually extinguish the largest Latvian community in exile in the West by bankrupting the community w-th this extravagant purchase. Some feared that the Wintan'o matching grant would ultimately be the demise of the Centrs because the government would reclaim the money, based on the suspicion that it was not possible to get something for nothing. Unfortunately, some pro-Centrs people were also too eager and aggressive in their attempts to gather donations and recruit new members for the project. For the most part, however, the pro- Centn group was comprised of determined visionaries who with hard work and creative ideas helped to make the new cultural social home a reality, thus inviting more and more community members to join and become active in the community life at the Centrs (Miezitis 8 Dreifelds, 1998).
Part of the vision of Centrs was to create a place where all members of the Latvian community would feel that they had a place and would feel welcome. While the rest of the community focused on holding onto its Latvian speaking members, Centrs was also interested in being a place that felt welcoming to those Latvians who no longer spoke Latvian and to those families where one of the partners was not of Latvian origin. Community life at Centrs continued to grow, and gradually those who had opposed the project in the beginning gradually began to view it as an asset. Some joined in the spirit in which Centrs was first created, but others saw it as another place in which to exerdse their power in the community. Unfortunately, once the Centm was rebuilt and financially established, the conservative wing of the community took over control and used the pro-Communist smear campaigns to keep the relatively smaller liberal membership from being elected on the Centre executive committee, with the same tactics that had been used to keep them from being elected as representatives of the Latvian National Association of Canada and other leadership positions in the community.
3.4.4 Educational Many educational experiences evolved in the community in exile. In Toronto, the TLB (Toronto Latvieh Biednba, or the Toronto Latvian Association) Latvian Saturday elementary school was founded in 1951. The Latvian high school held on Friday evenings was founded in 1953. Both schools transplanted the curriculum used in Latvia. thus trying to preserve Latvia's educational system in exile. The pedagogical approach was traditional, and favoured rote learning and the curriculum was outdated. Most of the original teachers had been trained in Latvia Most students from my generation have mixed feelings about our experiences there. Many of us complained about the content and style of our educational experiences, and the fact that we had too much boring homework and missed Saturday morning cartoons. We, only half-affectionately, referred to it as "slob schooV, and took pride in mischief-making more than doing well in our schoolwork On the other hand, this was another place where we could regularly meet with our friends. Many people also have fond memories of their teachers. Both of my grandmothers taught at Me Saturday school for over twenty-five years. The high school also provided opportunities for young people to socialize on Friday nights, sometimes during school hours by skipping classes. A drawback to having school on Friday evenings was having to miss dances or other social activities held at our local Canadian high schools. During the late 1970s. some parents, including my own, tried to influence the pedagogical philosophy and practice of the Saturday school to bring it in line with what was happening in mainstream education. Among Me suggestions was the use of a new grammar program developed by a Latvian linguist in the United States using contemporary content and implementing ESL strategies, essentially teaching Latvian as a second language. My dass was the experimental dass in which interested families' children learned the language portion d the cuniculum using the new program. This generated a great deal of controversy, criticism, resentment, and frustration. Ironically, this same program was embraced wholeheartedly in other Latvian schools in the United States.
After a series of negotiations to bring in experimental dasses featuring alternative teaching methods failed, it became clear that it was unlikely that much could be changed at the Saturday school at that time. A new school Valodipa was founded in 1978 (Matiss 8 Miezitis, 1989; MiezRis, 1979; Miezitis-Mags 8 Miezits, 1990). The goal was to create a school community where families were actively involved in their children's learning. A new cuniwlum was created which made learning meaningful to the children, and which bridged experiences in the community with hose in the cfassroorn. In its first years the school feft very much like a large family. All families (there were only about twenty) were very much involved in the decision making processes, as well as in weekly activities at the school and community. Even though Valodipa's Friday evening six to nine schedule did not conflict with the Saturday school's, its foundation created a rift in the community, and as with other progressive undertakings, the traditionally indined members of the community viewed this as another attempt to sabotage the community's educational system. Instead the new school stimulated interest among families who had given up on the Saturday school or did not feel welcome there, and the total attendance in the two schools grew instead of decreasing as it had previously. Now, twenty years later, both schools have gone through many changes, both now have young principals, and as of the 1996-1997 academic year the Saturday school also moved to the Centrs. Both schools now use the same classrooms, Vdodi~aon Friday evenings and the Saturday school on Saturday mornings. I was in grade eight when Vdodipa opened its doors in January 1978. Both MHra and I graduated from both elementary schools. All of us had attended the Saturday school, and all of us attended at least a few years of the high school. We have all also taught at Valodqa for longer or shorter periods. I was there for six years. llga has been an innovator in her leadership role in one of Me Toronto Latvian schools for several years.
Other Latvian educational experiences are available in other Latvian communities which Toronto young people have also sought out In the United States many American Latvians live in cities that do not have large enough communities to have Latvian high schools. The soluf on was to create summer high school learning experiences for students in summer camp settings. These programs feature a broad curriculum which indudes Latvian literature, culture, history, and religious studies. They provide a social, as well as an educational experience. There were three summer high schools in the United States: Gacezem in Michigan, Beverina on the East Coast in Pennsylvania, and Kursa on the West Coast in Washington state. At the time that 1 was of high school age some young people from Toronto also began to attend the summer high school programs in the United States. There had not been a lot of interest prior because we had our own regular high school on Friday nights. Students who attended these summer programs felt that they had benefited more educationally, and became more connected into the friendship networks with their American Latvian peers. They were also frustrated, however, by the fact that the Toronto Latvian high school did not recognize the summer schooling, and did not allow students to accelerate through the grades. The result was that some students chose not to attend the Toronto school anymore, particularly since they felt that they learned more in the summer programs. Some also returned to work in these camps after they had graduated to maintain their connections with their newly found community. Among the participants, only Mara attended one of the summer high school programs. Only one of the schools, Ga~ezers,is still operating normally. BeveAna has been closed down since 1992. Kursa finances a summer program primarily for Latvians from Latvia. A full-time government funded Latvian high school had been in operation in Muenster Germany since 1946. It was a boarding school which attracted Latvian young people from many different countries, particularly the United States and Canada All regular high school subjects were taught in Laman. The school provided a year long totai Latvian immersion experience for young people. It gave North American Latvians the opportunity to live in Europe. This has been a significant experience in llga's, IngWa's and Valeska's lives. The school was closed in 1996 due to a decreasing student population from the West (with mainly Latvians from the homeland attending since Latvia's independence), because the German government, which had subsidized the school since the end of W.W.11, withdrew its support.
A Latvian Studies program was first established at the Westem Michigan University in the summer of 1973. In 1985 it became a full-time program, however, due to decreasing enrollment and downsizing due to financial pressures, the program was shut down in 1995.1 attended a summer program course, and lngrida was there for a year and a half. Kalamazoo Michigan has a strong community of younger Latvians who were drawn there by the University program and the Latvian community experience.
Similar themes keep emerging in the stmggles in the community. The struggle between liberal and conservative attitudes, between innovators seeking new ways of doing things and the traditionalists who try to maintain everything exactly how it was during the independence years in Latvia. The community in exile struggled to maintain the language and culture for Latvia. The newest struggle is that of survival for the institutions, organizations, and activities in the West, the survival of the Latvian communities in exile.
3.4.5 Youth Movement The youth movement evolved both parallel with and in reaction to aspects of the broader social, political, and cultural life of the transplanted community in exile. Although, many of the youth activities were initiated by our parents' generation in their youth, a number of key aspects are highlighted here, which are of relevance to the experiences discussed by the partidpants in their stones.
LNJA K (~atviduNacionM Jaunatnes Apvieniba Kana'&) or the Latvian National Youth Association in Canada was founded in the 1950s. LNJAK members organized dances, seminars, an annual youth congress, as well as youth participation in political demonstrations. The political climate of this organization was influenced by the members of its executive as well as by the changing times. This ranged from being very liberal and challenging of the status quo to being more conservative and keeping in line with more traditional attitudes and expectations, influenced by LNAK, the umbrella organization. Since the largest proportion of the Latvian population in Canada resides in and around the Toronto area, this organization has tended to be primarily Toronto based. Both Laimdota and llga have served as Presidents of LNJAK, and lngn'da. MZra. and I have served on the executive committee.
AL JA (Amzikas Latvkh Jaunatnes Apvieniba) heAmerican Latvian Youth Association is the LNJAK counterpart in the United States, and was founded in the early 1950s. AWA has been involved in a similar role of organizing social, political and cultural events in the United States which have also provided important opportunities for young people from Canada to form and maintain friendships with Latvian youth across North America. Unlike the Toronto based WJAK, AWA has tended to be more nationally based, and has been able to facilitate the participation of young people across the United States.
MJK (Vispasaules Latviegu Jaunatnes Kongress) or the Worldwide or International Latvian Youth Congress was created as an umbrella organization for the Latvian youth organizations in exile, which convened periodically in different countries in the West The pn'mary focus of the congress programs was political, but also provided opportunities for socializing and included cultural events. The first congress was planned to be held in Berlin in July 1968, but because of the political tensions in Czechoslovakia just prior to the Communist takeover of the govemment, the German govemment cancelled the event Me day before it was scheduled to open, and the participants were flown to Hanover, West Germany, to the European Latvian Song Festival site. This nonevent was followed by congresses in: England (1972, 1980, 1992); Belgium (1975); The United States (1978); Australia (1984,1997); Canada (1986); Finland (1989).
2X2 (divreizdivo the Latvian youth immersion seminar movement (Miez's, 1976, 1986) was aimed at young adults age eighteen to twenty-five. The seminars ran from seven to ten days, and were organized in different locations across Canada and the United States. as well as in West Gemany and Venezuela. They were held in summer camp settings. The philosophy of 2x2 was to offer a unique opportunity for young people to have an intensive high quality experience in learning about Latvian culture, traditions, folklore, folkdances, songs, arts and crafts, history, and politics from well known speaalists in their field, and forming bonds with Latvian youth from other countries whom one might not have had the chance to otherwise meet. Many met their future partners at these seminars. The first 2x2 was organized in 1964 in Ohio. Following this 2x2 seminars were held in: Michigan (1965. 1966, 1967. 1970, 1980. 1994, 1995, 1996); Oregon (1969, 1982); California (1971); Massachusetts (1972. 1978. 1983); Ohio (1973); Bolton, Ontario (1974, 1981); British Columbia (1975, 1985); Virginia (1976); Venezuela (1976- 77); Quebec (1979); West Germany (1984, 1987). MBra, Valeska. Ingfida, Laimdota, and I have been participants in 2x2 workshops. Laimdota, Valeska, and llga have also been involved in organizing these events. I participated in organizing a 2x2 workshop in 1989 which was cancelled due to low pre-registration. After a hiatus of several years. smaller 2x2 seminars have. once again, been successfully organized in 1994, 1995, and 1996 in Michigan.
3x3 (tnkeiztn's) grew out of the 2x2 movement providing the same type of intensive experience in Latvian culture. history, and politics in a multigenerational context. Programs are organized for children, youth, and adults of all ages. These seminars are held annually at two Latvian summer camps in Ga~ers,Michigan and in Katsqli in New York, as well as, in Western Europe, Australia, and since 1990, in Latvia with financial and program support and partidpation of 3x3 leaders and participants from the West. llga has participated in and has been a seminar leader at a number of these seminars in the United States. I participated as a seminar co-leader in the first 3x3 to be held in Latvia in Madliena (1990). The 100th 3x3 was held in Garwets in 1997 (Ruperte, 1997).
ki~stands for 8j~akslair Jauna meaning "this art is new/young". Laimdota was the innovator of this weekend event which was first organized by members of WJAK in 1973.8Mi~ became a yearly social cultural event featuring seminars and dances, and showcasing a jury selected exhibit of young Latvian artists in North Amelica. The reason for originally creating this event was to reach the wider audience of Latvian young people who were not actively involved in the community. Laimdota, Ilga, Mrs. Ingfida and I have been involved as organizers, and Valeska, lngllda and MBra have shown their work at these events.
Jaunafnes Dziesmu SvStki are Latvian youth song festivals which were organized to showcase young Latvian musicians, singers, composers, conductors, dancers, choreographers, artists, playwrights, and actors. The work of creative young people was valued by the rather conservative older generation organizen of the Latvian song festivals organized in Canada and the United States. The founders of this event, llga and ~~rtigS&auvers, organized the first youth song festival in Montreal, Quebec in 1975. These festivals were later held in: Montreal, Quebec (1979, 1985); Rochester, New York (1977); Cleveland, Ohio (1 981); Sherbrooke, Quebec (1987).All the women in this study have attended and participated in these song festivals.
There were three international peace conferences held in Helsinki, Finland (1 976, 1986) and Madrid, Spain (1980) which were of great political significance to the Baltic states, and engaged the participation of all active members including the youth of our communities in political demonstrations associated with these events. Both llga and Laimdota participated in the Madrid conference which caught worldwide media attention with the dramatic crucifixion enactment by a Latvian minister. They were both subsequently denied tourist visas to Latvia during the occupation years. The Baltic peace and freedom cruise was organized in 1986 during the Helsinki Congress in Fhiand and the signing of the Helsinki Accords to "gamer the world's attention in a non-confrontational fashionn regarding the occupation of the Baltic States. The Russians publicized this on TASS, and followed the chartered ship in the Baltic Sea. This drew the attention of the Western press, and instantly the event became a news story. This was also an incredible experience for the participants. Laimdota was one of the organizers.
Recent years have marked a decline in the number of events organized for and by young people, as well as, in the number of participants attending. Many young people who were involved in leadership roles in the mmmunlty, are now living in Latvia. During her interview Laimdota reported that the main figures of the Baltic Peace and Freedom Cruise, the International Latvian Youth Congresses, and many former leaders of the national Latvian youth organizations have assumed important positions in Latvia following its independence. For example, some are ambassadors of the Republic of Latvia, ministers of the state, members of parliament, employees of foreign aid organizations, and many now have businesses in Latvia. Laimdota observed that "something worked in that whole process" of the experiences described above. She also commented on the irony of it #at some of the parents, whose children now live in Latvia, found themselves asking 'whether it was such a wise thing to educate their kids to be as Latvian as they weren.
3.5 Introducing the Stories
The participants' stories are presented in the following six chapters. I felt that it was important to allow the women's stories to be told in their own words, and for their voices to stand alone in the description of their experiences, thoughts and feelings regarding their lives in changing contexts. I also felt that it was important to allow each participant's personal issues and experiences to emerge in their stories, and consequently each story is unique. Common threads in the stories describe the experiences of growing up in Latvian families in Canada and of participating in the Latvian community; contacts with Latvia; and an exploration of where Latvia's regained independence and the end of the community-in-exile era has taken each woman's life and the issues, dilemmas, thoughts and feelings related to those journeys. Consequently, the stolies which follow emerged frwn each woman's nanative regarding her life history. The stories were co-created by the participants and myself. Each story is followed by my commentary which highlights key themes and issues that emerged from the stories. Placing commentaries at the end of the life documents is a standard technique used in limited life histoly studies (Plummar, 1983). Chapter Four
Searching For Meaning
lngrrda's Story
I have spent maybe half of my life thinking that I am first and foremost a Latvian, with only vague inklings that there must be a bit more to life than what "being Latviannmeant to me then. When I was about twenty, a co-worker at a Latvian summer camp somewhat bashfully confessed to me Mat she had been warned (not having met me yet) that I was a SuperLatvian (i-e. an obsessive participant in all sociaUcultural things Laman, disdainful of all who are not similarly obsessed). She was much relieved, as was I, that we got along just fine. I thank God for those vague inkling that have kept me searching for an understanding of what I am and what I could become. (November 7, 1995. Toronto)
My teacher was this lovely little old lady who always wore a lovely lilac linen suit - and I think lilac is my favourite colour because of her. Whenever I did something she didn't like, she would take one of my braids in her hand and sort of pat it and say that being Latvian was something so special and so good and so pure and so perfect, that how can you be anything other than a nice girl because of being Latvian. That was my sense or feeling about what being Latvian was.
I was also thinking about having had instilled in me this idea that being Latvian, whatever exactly that meant, was superior to everything else, or just more important than anything else. And really what it meant was speaking Latvian, getting good marks in school - Latvian school - and just doing all those things, going to all those Latvian things. This was the ideal, but it wasn't terribly interesting, there wasn't much life in it, but that was what it was. images from my childhood
I was born in the mid-1960s in Toronto, and I've always lived here. I have a brother and a sister who are both older than me. it has always seemed like a vast gap. My parents were born in Latvia, and are now both over sixty-five, another vast gap. I feel like I don't really know anything about my family. Now I feel a bit more at ease asking, but Cs just so foreign asking personal questions. It's like you're living with these people, but you don? really know them. Well, I know my sister a bit, and maybe she knows me a bit. I don't know my brother at all. I also feel like that3 as far as people want to take it- This is how we are. In more recent years this has begun to change, but it takes a lot of courage to try to change such a thing.
My grandmother was around during my childhood, and I think I'm lucky that she lived with us because she was very sympathetic, and we were friends. We lived in a nice big house down by the lake until I was about five. There was a neighbourhood feeling there and we walked a lot - we walked on the street and went grocery shopping and walked on the trails and went to the beach. The neighbouhood feeling is a very strong memory.
And then we moved to the suburbs -- to a place where there's little boxes on the street, and there's no where to go so you don't go anywhere - and that was not very nice. We moved from a house where there was lots of space for everyone, to a smaller house where there was not really anywhere to get away. In our old house I remember being in the living room with the doors dosed and listening to music, and in the new house you couldn't do that - there was no privacy. And also there weren't a lot of kids on the street for me to play with, so I was inside a lot.
We had a cottage right by the Latvian summer camp. My grandmother spent the whole summer at the cottage, so whether there was camp or not we were there. My parents came on the weekends. There was definitely a feeling of community around the camp and the cottages. I went there this summer, and it was just really nice, Me smell and everything was really familiar. the sense of having grown up there. If I had to choose a place to call my "homelandn, it would be there. Except that now it's sad there - there is less of a feeling of community.
I started school when I was five. In kindergarten I was an lngrida, but when I was in grade one my teacher said "do you want to be called lngrid or lngfida?", which I had never come across in my life, so I didn't know what she was talking about. So she called me Ingrid. and I've been lngrid ever since. I found for a really long time when I would be introducing myself, I just didn't know what to say, and so everybody's first introduction to me was to a very confused individual who doesn't even know what her name is.
I learned to speak English from my brother and sister. My sister didn't know English when she had to go to school, so they sent her to nursery school to learn English. We were pretty much left to ourselves, so we mostly interacted with each other and with kids on the street. Latvian was something that we only spoke to our parents. Maybe that's how it started, and it upset my parents that we spoke only English to each other. They got really heavily into the "speak Latvian!" thing, and no way did that work. We used to play word games, like "Loading ships" and "Here's a dollar" (LZdBim ku&is and & tw dm&), which was fun. But basically, since my parents are not big talkers, language itself wasnY much fun in the house, and they were pretty limited in their ways to get us to speak Latvian. We didn't get prizes or candies. It was just "thals our language and you should respect that".
Doing Easter eggs in onion skins is something that I did together with my parents and probably my brother and sister too. That was fun. We sat in the kitchen and did this stuff, and my grandmother too. I don't spedfimlly remember, but that3 one of the rare things that we did together that was no big deal in one way, but it's something nice to remember. With everything else in our home we were pretty much separated the whole time. Somehow my parents werenY really involved in what we were doing. They were busy with work. keeping things running. The times we spent together were mostly sitting at dinner eating. The Easter thing and baking cookies at Christmas are the family traditions that are still important to me.
My Latvian self in English school was very pmud to be different. And it was definitely different, and that has been another "schizoid" thing. I think I didn't look on the English stuff as being real or important. I really liked school and all that stuff, but my friends were just my school friends. I always felt that. After school I might stay at somebody's house for a little while and play, but it felt like that really wasnt my life, not in the way that the Latvian stuff was. That was just the way it was.
I never brought friends home, but you can't say "that's just heLatvian thing". My parents are very nice people, but they are not sociable, they don't bring anybody home. So in that sense it's not just a Latvian thing. I know I always placed myself so that I was furthest away, so it was too far for people to go. I don't think I ever considered inviting anyone over. I was the furthest away, but that really shouldn? have influenced that. I've never reached out for friendship. I have a way of cutting myself off from people.
My brother had a lot of friends, and he was always busy. And I don't really know how my sister dealt with stuff. But I think of myself as having been a sad kid, and she didn't seem that way. My brotheh attitude to Latvian stuff was that he couldn't stand it, and he never could, and he didn't seem to like the people, and he's just totally gone away. And my sister seemed to continue with Latvian stuff mostly out of consideration for my parents, but I've never really asked her. And 1 sort of fluctuated and even now there's -- I feel like what I have done is sought out the stuff Mars interesting to me to make it meaningful instead of going through the motions. I gained enough of something from somewhere, I don't know, I guess it was from my parents or somewhere, but I gained enough of something to want to look for proof that it's worth it, identifying the meaning of being Latvian.
where being Latvian made sense
In my early teens I got interested in some Latvian things, but they had nothing to do with the usual activities. I have always had a special feeling for music -- I liked singing Latvian songs in school and espeaally at camp. At camp everyone seemed to enjoy Me singing more.
I started singing in the choir at the church my parents belonged to when I was about fourteen. I felt very attached to the conductor. She taught me a lot about singing, and I really like singing so I've kept that up. Even through times when it's been very hard to "manifest' myself in any other way, I've continued singing.
In the choir you knew very definitely that you were always welcome. So even when I wasn't singing with them during the year, when I was home for Christmas I could go and sing in church on Christmas Eve -- that's probably my favourite thing about Christmas Eve.
The thing that I like about this choir, is that the singing is whafs important, the making of beautiful music is what's important, rather than the effect we will have. In fact, not much of the singing is Latvian and that's almost a matter of something to be proud of - it's really funny - you know, we sing "good" music. Irs similar to the way I look at movies, I think. There's "Hollywoodn and then there's "art", and sometimes a movie can inhabit both tern'tories. Something that's interesting is, here are Latvians, but who are doing something that's hardly Latvian at all, but that's something that has kept me among Latvians; whereas the stuff that's very specifically Latvian has not been as powerful.
Experiences that stand out over many years have been when people visit from other places. I heard a group from Boston called Kolibri ((Hummingbird) that really energized me. This would have been in the seventies. They all looked like hippie-types. They wore their Latvian national costumes as though they might actually be considered to be comfortable clothing, instead of just a bright baubley thing you carefully bring out for special occasions. And they LOVED the music. They sang beautiful songs, funny songs. They played all sorts of instruments that I had never seen before - and I had thought that all Latvians knew how to play was the kokle- It was also probably around that time that I first experienced a JM~Jevent (young artists: theater, poetry, music, "Art"). I don't know how I heard about it -- I'm pretty sure I went there alone, so I must have been at least thirteen. There was a guy who wrote poetry about sex (if I understood it correctly), and he played blues piano with his long skinny fingers, and THAT was being called "being Latviann.
The year that I spent in Germany was also confirming. I was sixteen when I went to the Muenster Latvian High School. It was my first experience when I felt that you can have a life in Latvian, because before that it was almost something that you were obliged to do rather than just being somehow. In Muenster I saw young couples with families for whom Latvian was just a way to be. People spoke in all manners, rude and not Latvian was just a useful language, which it had never seemed to be before. In school we cut open cow's eyeballs and described it in latvian, and learned math and all that stuff. It was a very different style of life that most people had there. A major thing was that it wasn't something that you'd go to. and in one place you're Latvian and in another you're not -- it was just where you lived, and the best way to communicate with people that you saw every day was in Latvian. I didn't really do a lot of school work there, but the peripheral stuff was neat So as far as meaningful things Latvian are concerned, I sensed that Iwould maybe get something and I did.
The Muenster experience was good and it was bad, and it was both. I'm definitely glad I went, because in a way it sort of shook me up. I spent maybe three or four years just wanting to go back to Germany. I think it brought me up against a lot of things that I needed to question, and I think I might have just floated along otherwise.
When I came back from Germany I had absolutely no desire to do anything among Latvians here. Partly, maybe from overload, but l Mink mostly I knew I didn't like it before I left, so I just didnY go back. I had no interest in song festivals. I wasn't dancing any more, I didn't like the mass feeling of song festivals and I also didn't like Me social aspect of it very much, and that was hard for my father to understand - or to accept - it was impossible for him to understand. I did go to the Latvian 2x2 youth camp. I went with my sister, which was curious. I think it was even her idea to go, which is also curious. Its possible that our going to the youth camp was to make my father happy.
It was strange because my sister and I speak only English to each other. I think it was strange to be going to something like this together, and I'm sure it felt awkward either to speak Latvian to each other or to speak English when you're speaking Latvian to everybody else. Thafs always been a weird thing, because with different people it felt right to speak different languages. I don't remember ever objecting to the idea of speaking Latvian. But I knew which people thought it was really stupid and uncool, and I didn't speak it with them. There were others who it was fun to speak Latvian to. But with my sister I feel like I'm being obedient if I speak Latvian to her, and then it doesn't feel like a real conversation,
The 2x2 youth camp was a pretty good experience for me. I met a girl there who had had no contact with Latvians before, and it was interesting to meet somebody like that. Unspoiled. We connected.
I also attended a winter 2x2 youth camp in Michigan the year after I left university. What I really liked about it was participating in the Latvian Kitchen workshop. We were just hanging out, baking stuff and brewing beer. It wasn't like we were having big discussions about what it is to be Latvian or anything like that, we were just doing this stuff that happens to be somehow connected to being -just being. And that was really good. The more it seems like part of an everyday routine, the more meaningful it is. It was just sort of a reconnection maybe like a confirmation.
At this camp there were also people from the Western Michigan University Latvian Studies Centre in Kalamazoo and they did their schpeel. Since I had no plans for my future I decided to try Kalamazoo. I ended up staying for half of that year and another year. I didn't get over my writing block there, but I did learn a lot. I had been going to Latvian schools all these years and I went to Muenster, and never had I read something in Latvian that I was very interested in. This was the first place that I started reading a lot,
Even though I had gotten the message that Latvian stuff was most important and the most meaningful, I just didn't see any proof of that in my parents' lives, other than they spoke Latvian to each other and my father read Latvian books. but nothing really charged them up. I knew it was supposed to be important, but I couldn't see why. really. I guess my deciding to do all these other Latvian things. like going to Germany and going to Kalamazoo, was kind of looking for reasons why it should have meaning for me, and I think I've found some. parts, partides -- why I can't take part
I remember something that I found written by a Latvian poet that kind of says it all about how I feel I've been raised in my family and in the Latvian community. It's written by lmants Ziedonis. It's not really a poem. he calls his collection Epiphanies, and there's one about leaving "this placen because all it asks of anyone is to participate. Instead of helping people form themselves, they're just splitting themselves and just giving bits of themselves to the whole and in the end there's nothing left of anyone. The image is opposite to "taking part", more like giving parw I got to use this when I lived in Kalarnazoo and went to this Latvian Studies program. I dreaded the annual fund raising tour. It's a little show. Whenever I had seen it before, it was nice poems about the fatherland and people wearing nice tradlonal costumes, and I can7 stand that sort of thing - it seems so forced and not real. Nobody really wanted to do it and nobody wanted to decide what to do, so we decided that we would each do our own thing, we would each have our two minutes on stage. It came out quite perfectly bemuse I recited this Epiphany. I don? know if everybody understood what I meant; it sounded kind of negative. I didn't really get much response from anybody. But if I had had to stand there spewing patriotic poems in my national costume, then I would have been doing just what I was talking against.
I thought of that because I was thinking "talk about here and now", and "what's here and now?". In this Epiphany, he starts out by saying 'I'm leaving this place" and how all this place has asked of anybody is to participate (piedaI?ies).After a period of givingAaking part he had realized that he should be getting something back. He was looking for himself in all this that he had been participating in and couldn't find it. it all hinges on these Latvian words about participation. Part of the word for "participatenor "to become involved" (piedamanas)has to do with splitting or sharing (daaanZs). He tums that around and, in contrast to participating, he uses the word pievienoties which is similar, but has to do with wholeness - joining in, coming together as one. And to be able to do that, he feels it is necessary to form oneself.
This is my excuse for sitting around for four yean without anything to show for it (laughing). Even though I'm here where I grew up, I'm certainly not in the same place. I'm not really in the Latvian community here, and I'm kind of doing my own thing. But not rejecting necessarily anything either. I guess I need to sit with this because of my feeling that I can't really do anything. If I were to join into something, I'II do something to be part of it. like I'II be Treasurer or whatever, but I don't really feel like I can give something of myself. If I'm not doing that, then it feels like it's not worth it. Participation without an honest feeling of connectedness with the world feels futile. That's the kind of stuff that I've been thinking about for a long time.
My upbringing, and also my experience in the Latvian schools, seems to have been focused on the idea that they are raising little Latvians, not individuals, and "we want you to be a good little Latvian, and this is how you become a good Latvian". I had always this awareness in the Latvian high school that if we were required to write an essay, I knew that if you wrote a little patriotic something, that would be just fine. I knew what was required and I knew that if I wrote what I thought, they wouldn't be interested. I think that's, unwittingly maybe, what my parents were doing too, with the result that I had learned very well not to even know what I really think. other than that I refuse to think the way that's expected of me. I think that connected with that also is the fact that I was deserving of attention and praise when I did well in schwl, when I gave the right answers. I think that when you put all that together?you just don't know where you stand with anybody; or you know where you stand, you know that if you follow orders and do things right, get good marks, blah, blah, blah, then you're okay. But that means that anything that comes out of you the rest of the time is worth nothing. I probably mostly feel vulnerable. I've had these spurts of energy and feeling like i can pretty much do anything, and then I commit myself to something. I don't know if it's the committing to it or if it's just what happens - all of a sudden I'm back in this "I can't do shit" phase. I can't yet really trust myself not to go back to it, so for now I'm backing off from commitments. I think I'm sort of stuck in between. I know where I want to go, but I can't get there. It's pretty frustrating. Where I am now, I know how I'd like to be, but I sort of feel like I'm too old to feel like I should start growing up, and it's kind of confusing.
Waiting for Gadot - the absurdity of it all
I saw a production of Waiting for Godot, and it was done in Latvian by a group of people from Stockholm. I don't know how old I would have been to see that. but it really affected me. It was Latvians doing it, but I think the play affected me. I wouldn't have come across it in English except maybe later in school, so that's sort of a strange thing. I saw it twice.
Aside from Me play itself, another thing that I really remember was a certain person sitting in the audience who laughed like a maniac through the whole thing, which I really liked. But this whole sense of the absurd, I think I really plugged into that - "Oh, other people feel the same too". I don't remember what my specific thoughts were, but it was sort of a relief. I may be putting thoughts into a head that weren't there to begin with, but I definitely had some sort of identifying with that. That was a step. That's my life (laughing), you know, nonsensical conversations, and what the hell is the point of this. And maybe I think that more so because I saw this play at an impressionable age, I don't know.
The main Latvian things that I was growing up in emphasized 'respect for the elders" whether or not they deserve it whether or not they've eamed it. Having these absurd figures as our community leaders standing in front talking. most of them seem ridiculous. They're absurd in themselves, and then I get this message from my father and reinforced by my mother that you have to respect anybody in authority because that's what you do. He would never allow us to criticize teachers. Teachers were always right. I don't think he's ever allowed himself to question authority, or in his eyes superior ideas, or inherited ideas. But my mother I've been able to catch on a few things. I think she has felt that she has to support him in whatever, because that's what you do in a marriage. Cs threatening for them when we question, because they have been following the 'don't questionwrule all along - maybe for the people coming through Me war that was necessary. I get the impression that they're doing what they're doing because they have to, and that's a line I hear a lot, 'you know, you can't always do what you want". So this is their life. Maybe they don't admit it, but I don't think they've ever been happy. It's just life and they are doing what they're supposed to be doing - having children and making them Latvians and all that stuff.
People living in exile are sort of concentrating on their lives now. But their lives now are kind of really hollow, kind of connecting the lives now and this abstract future in this marvelous renewed old Latvia of the ancient past. They don't allow themselves to have a life now. It feels like Ws been a huge waste of time. My parents don't seem to have much of a life, and something about the Epiphany that I was talking about earlier, saying that this place only demands your participation and has wasted time, or taken this time from me is the result- brushes with Latvia
I think that having grown up in a community that behaved as though this was not our home, and that true home was somewhere else, and our true everything was somewhere else, and at the same time that that somewhere else doesn? exist any more, was really confusing. The Latvia of recent history was not acknowledged as worthy of consideration as a place that one could be connected to,
While I was still in Toronto, before I went to Germany, I had gone to hear poets from Latvia reading and that was real contact with Latvians from Latvia, but that was still at another level -- that was celebrities and culture which was interesting, different, but at a distance. It was also, incidentally, tacitly disapproved of by a large part of the community. I didn't ever tell my parents that I was going, just to avoid possible confrontation.
I remember another powerful earlier contact with somebody Latvian. My aunt had been writing to a young couple that lived on my uncle's former property in Latvia. I had seen cards that they sent. The woman was an artist. She came here in the early eighties and showed slides and talked about how they lived there. It was a group of young people -- like hippies. They lived in the city during the week, and then they went up there, and lived in a 'back to the land-ishuway. It really moved me somewhere when 1 heard her talking about that. I think I was about fourteen. It just occurred to me that this "unreal Latvia" that we had read about in our school books, was what these people were living - the pastoral, beautiful simple life, skiing through the fields to their house because there was no road. And while on the one hand I thought that much of what we were fed about Latvia was clouded by sentiment, these people were living it and I thought it was great
When I was in Germany, aside from the language seeming more real in the school community Latvia as a country with real people living there seemed much more real. It was not just the physical proximity, but there were a couple of students at the school who had very recently come from Latvia. These people had very recently still been living in Latvia, and were fine, regular people. Out of convenience we spoke Latvian to each other; and there was a lot of goofing around going on in Latvian, which had happened a little in other places but it was more so here. A place that was totally unreal became a real place. Also, because there were people from the school who were going to Latvia over the Christmas holidays, it became real as a place you could hop on a train and go to.
My grandmother had been going to Latvia for years. She went every summer. But she never talked about it, so even that didn't really sink in. She wanted to send all her grandchildren. I went in the mid-eighties with my godmother and my cousins. I did not have tears in my eyes when the plane landed in Riga. At least I don't think I did. At that point you still had to be part of a tour group. We were there for ten days, and we stayed in a hotel and we did the relatives thing. Both my parents have quite a few relatives -- not very close but people they always kept in touch with. And the best experience was with a family of three generations - a grandmother and little children who lived in a little house near the sea. We played basketball and we walked on the beach. They made us eat too much, but it was generally more relaxed. Almost everywhere else the conversation was constantly comparing this and that, and prices, and you do this and we do that, and not comfortable. There wasn't a lot of time, and almost all the time I was with somebody, and so I didn't really get much of a sense for myself of what things are like there.
The next time I went, two years later, I was still obliged to be part of a group, but I didn't go on any tours, and I didn't phone any of my relatives. I thought that for ten days I would do stuff for myself. I mostly wandered around, and bought newspapers, and looked things up. Through a newspaper ad I ended up in this art gallery hang out for young people. It was run by just regular young people who had the energy and the smarts to get something like this happening semi-officially. There was an exhibit when I went there. I talked to somebody who said that they thought that I was a local Latvian. I ended up spending a lot of time with the people I met there - a mixed group including men. women. and a dog named Remiks. It struck me as an alternative scene which was interesting. I met various people through the two people that I initially met there, and I got a good feeling about everybody. They were all very open to me. I went back the year after and again only for ten days. The third time that I went things were getting really interesting there. I was also going to organize a tour for a bunch of writers of various ages who I got to know through my friends. I thought this would be the most amazing thing. So I made all these promises and they wrote a Manifesto marketing themselves, and I didn't do anything. I think what happened was that when I got back I was overwhelmed -- it was a lot - and who am I anyway and I can't do anything. I thought that nobody would really be interested or that I wouldn't be able to convince anybody that this would be interesting. I didn't know the first thing about how to organize a tour.
I spent about half a year after that sitting in my room watching TV and generally avoiding life. I had been thinking about going and spending a longer time in Latvia, that I didn't feel like I had a life here, so why not just start one there. But on the other hand, if you've managed to live through twenty-five years here without having a life, then you can't just say "well I'll start one in Latvia", if you haven't worked through all the reasons why you didn't have one for all that time. What I've been doing is trying to ground myself here - this is where I was born and I have something to do with this country. I might as well start to get to get to know myself in this more familiar context. There's less stuff to confuse me here than there is over there, I think.
two years later
I think I mentioned at some point that I had been spending about four years getting my shit together. It was still sort of scattered around here and Mere. In talking about ethnic stuff, it's sort of contradictory, because I have no problem knowing that I feel definitely that I'm Latvian and definitely that I'm Canadian. That's not a huge conflict. I think it used to be confusing because I wasn't sure what being Latvian was supposed to be.
When the opportunity to become a Latvian citizen first arose in 1993, 1 was pretty sure that I was not interested. There seemed to be such a heavy push to do it in connection with the elections in Latvia (i.e. the more of us - right-thinking Westerners - there are voting, the better the chance of electing the right government). That idea was thoroughly objectionable to me - I was big on voting in the place where I live, and trying to live responsibly in my community. I think that because of my upbringing, I have a hard time with the idea of imposing my idea of what is right onto others.
I cannot, however, deny that I have a selfish side. This summer (1995), when the word came out from Latvia that it's now or never for dual citizenship in Latvia and Canada, there was much more talk about the possible membership of Latvia in the European Community. This possibility is attractive to me - so. yes, I sent in my application. These are pretty strong contradictory feelings to contain - I don't know that I've thought it through to its conclusion.
As for getting on with my life, after high school I had gone straight to university, without really thinking about why. I knew that I was 'pretty smaf, and I was interested in a lot of things, so there didn't seem to be much to think about. In grade seven my art teacher had recommended an arts high school as a possible path, but I was afraid that to "do art" you needed to have "something to say". I didn't take art beyond grade ten. I ended high school with pretty good results, but my previous struggle with writing essays had turned into quite a serious block The only way that I could get the wild jumble of research tangled round my brain out onto paper, was to put myself in an altered state with massive amounts of caffeine in addition to sleep deprivation. Something else seemed to take over then, and I usually came up with pretty good results. This became a lot harder in university, and even speaking out in classes was nearly impossible. In fact it wasn't as simple as just not being able to get anything out. My mind, when called upon to put out, just shut down. I wasn't into self torture, so I dropped out.
Now it feels like finally somebody pushed the "PLAY" button after a very long "PAUSEn. A year ago I left my job knowing that it was time to jump into the river. I had been thinking about going back to school for the previous three years. and I knew where I wanted to go. It's the same direction I was considering in grade seven but told myself that it wasn't practical, and that I didn't have anything to say. I am now among people with whom, on the whole, I feel comfortable - I don't feel that I offend or intimidate them if I show myself, and I am immensely relieved. In fact, so much from my past is coming together now - all of the little boxes and buttons and pieces of paper that I have gathered are finding a place in my life. People at school know that my ethnic background is Latvian because they ask about my name, but this fact alone does not define me in their eyes. Everything from my past informs my present, and I sense that everything that I have experienced through the Latvian connection has greatly enriched my life. Commentary:
IngrTdals story evolved over a four year time period. The first interviews occurred during the summer of 1993. The first draft of her story was completed during the summer of 1994. ?%isdraft was revisited during the summer of 1995, and revised several times during the fall of 1995 when lngrida had made significant life changes by returning to school to pursue her interest in the arts. These changes also brought clarity to her story, and allowed her to finish what she needed to say.
The main theme in lngrida's story is "searching for meaningn in being Latvian. Even though she was raised in a traditional Latvian family and was encouraged to be a "good Latviann. Ingn'da was confused about who and what that really was. She was raised with the notion that being Latvian was superior to everything. At the same time. 'being Latviann in her family and at Latvian school seemed to be narrowly linked to authority and conformity, and denied freedom of self-expression. Instead of rebelling, lngrida felt compelled to find proof that there was more to it and that being Latvian was really worth it. Her family supported her explorations of what Me community had to offer locally and abroad. Ingrida sought a wide range of expen'ences which brought her as far away as the Latvian high school in Muenster, Germany and visits to Latvia. Although she found that these experiences offered opportunities for authentic self-expression in being Latvian, it took many more years before she found her own voice through art.
The questions "who am I" and "where do I belong" weave throughout her narrative. Ingfida talked about how, unhappy with her life in Toronto and uncertain of her Mure goals and directions, she found herself wooed by Latvia. She briefly fiirted with the impulsive idea of living in Latvia, only to realize that it was absurd to begin a new life there if she had not sorted out who she was here first. The strong emotions, deep sense of connectedness to her roots and the people. tauta, in Latvia, as well as her feelings of confusion that she talked about regarding her brushes with Latvia are frequently voiced by our generation's experiences in Latvia. Chapter Five
Forging My Place in Latvia
MZra's Story
Born in 1967 in mid-west America. I emigrated to Canada with my entire churchgoing family (minus my youngest sibling who was born Canadian) in 1973. and spent the next 19 years seemingly content with my Bloor West Village life until by some interesting combination of twist of fate, heavy doses of ethnic upbringing and temporary lack of sanity I moved to Latvia, the birthplace of my parents. I arrived with little clue as to what I was actually hoping to achieve, but all the while accepting that I had been drawn to Latvia by some predestined ties. Miain early 1992 was more or less part of the "wild easta',and I became quite easily charmed by the spontaneous way of life and Me challenge of surviving in a strange, new environment. Although I managed to secure a job which even by Western standards was no time-waster, I exchanged instead the freedom of pushing for my personal creative interests in order to adequately support myself. After two and a half years and many changes, both personal and surrounding. I've anived at having to decide whether I should continue in Latvia or emigrate further. Although he experienced many moments of self-doubt, even pain due to personal conflicts, I've learned three valuable lessons: the benefit of my Latvian-Canadian upbringing, the importance of liking one's job. and above all the necessity to retain a sense of humour at all costs. No regrets (yet). (August 2,1994. ma)
growing up truly Latvian
My family spoke Latvian; we all attended Latvian schools, Latvian camps; we listened to Latvian music; we participated in Latvian folk dancing; I attended Latvian Brownies and Girl Guides; we participated in Latvian Song Festivals; and we had many Latvian visitors. We celebrated Christmas and Easter in the Latvian tradition, and that involved going to Latvian church and getting together with Latvian friends and relatives. When we developed ties with Latvia, my mom and I encouraged each other to write. We also started to have guests staying with us from Latvia quite often. All of this created an environment (Latvietibas vide) in which being Latvian was fostered. It was all due to my parents' efforts. if they hadn't encouraged me, I wouldn't have been as involved in the Latvian community. At Canadian school I've always felt that I was different in the sense that I nave an ethnic background. Those of us who had an ethnic background, be it Latvian. Ukrainian. or whatever, we found that we understood each other some how, because we all lived a little differently from our average Canadian peers. I was very aware of this growing up. When i was in elementary school there were times when I was almost embarrassed about my Latvian background. I tried to hide it because I didn't want to be different Maybe I also felt that way a little sometimes when I was a teenager. Because when you go through that insecure phase, you just do not want to be different, at least that3 the way it was for me. Towards the second half of high school things changed for me. I stopped worrying about what other people thought My Latvietiba -- being Latvian and identifying with my Latvian identity - became important. I had been active in the community all my life, but it became really important to me Mat that was what made me stand out - as opposed to hiding from it.
I think my feelings about being Latvian became more intensive when I started to attend Latvian summer high schools in the States. I'd already been going to Latvian summer camp as a child, but that was with people from the Toronto area. When I started going to the summer sdrool~.I met people from everywhere. I developed a strong desire to meet more new people. I started writing to friends and travelling. I soon realized that I could meet Latvians everywhere, it became almost an obsession (dmdzis).The prospect of being able to travel and visit friends became really important to me.
All my closest friends and significant people are Latvians, and we've known each other since childhood. Many of my friends have been with me at least twenty years. I feel that I have really benefited from our shared background, and our intense and close lifelong ties. I also expect that they will continue. While I was growing up two-thirds of my friends were Latvians. and one- third were Canadian. Now I'd say that almost a hundred percent of my friends are Latvians, with the exception of two or three Canadian friends that I still keep in touch with. I had good friends in high school, university, and so on, but when the situations changed, I had to make a choice about whether I was going to keep up the friendships, because it was impossible to maintain all of them. I chose to spend my free time mostly with my Latvian friends.
hebeen in two serious relationships. The first was with a Canadian. and the second was a local Latvian. I was in a romantic relationship with a Canadian for many years, and even though I was in love with him at one time, the reason we did not stay together was that he was not Latvian and he was not able to fit one hundred percent into my life. I feel that it would be easier for me to be in a relationship with a Latvian than with someone with a different ethnic background. There are immediate limitations. My old boyfriend's friends were never completely able to understand me because of my being Latvian. They could not understand why it was important for me to do my own thing too, instead of always going out with hem or my boyfriend. I chose to continue doing my Latvian things, because Mat was important to me. and that created some stress in our relationship.
I needed to start developing myself as my own person. Being Latvian (Latvietrba)was my strong foundation on which I could build further. Anything that I became involved in. be it school or a weer, was also linked with my being Latvian. I always had something to say about myself, about who I am. There have been moments when I have felt really proud to be Latvian. I can't tell you when specifically, but at Latvian Song Festivals where I've been a participant. I always found that dufing the main folk dance show there is a moment when you get canied away by your incredible connection to the people all around you. Coming to Latvia was also really significant for me. Afterwards. when I went home to Canada, I listened to what was happening in Latvia, and heard about all the problems and that things were in a real crisis politically. Latvians living in the West, in exile (Tnmda) really seemed to pull together during the crises, again there was this real sense of connection (kopiba). That was really meaningful.
Being Latvian was a constant that held me together no matter what else I was doing or going through. I don't think that being Latvian has ever been a negative thing for me, although there are complications. On the other hand, you can never escape being Latvian either. Even though everything has two sides, I feel that the positives of being Latvian have far outweighed the negatives in my life. I can't imagine living without that. It is really important to me. It is the biggest part of my soul, and I just could not live without it, or would not want to live without it. discovering Latvia - the adventure begins
The first time I went to ktvia a whole new world opened for me. Everything that I had experienced growing up, the entire Latvian ligrnarole that I went through my entire life had meaning. I had not even really prepared myself for the trip to Latvia, it was just an extension of my travels through Europe. I had not given this trip any thought. and I did not think of it as really significant, like it might have been for others going to Wiafor the first time. I was just talked into going. As soon as I arrived in Riga, it was already very strange, I felt really comfortable here. I think that it was the first time in my life that I felt that I have a strange connection to a place. I have travelled to many places which I have enjoyed, and where I could have stayed longer, but somehow, arriving in Riga it felt like everything was familiar to me. We were supposed to stay for two weeks, and everything started to happen in a very quick tempo. I met many people, and it was such a wonderful experience, that before the first week was over. I knew that I had to stay longer. Fortunately, we were able to extend our stay to two months. Even after the two months I was not reaGy to leave, but since I had to retum home to finish school and so on. I decided before I even left Latvia, that I was going to return here for an extended period of time. I wanted to return to continue to develop and explore the friendships that I had started, I did not just want to leave them.
When I returned home, I maintained on-going contact with Latvia. i could say that every day I thought about the fastest and easiest way to retum; it was like a goal. When I finished school I found a contract position so that I could earn enough money to go back to Latvia. Before I even arrived in Latvia I had the sense that I would like to stay indefinitely, but I knew that from a practical point of view that might not be possible, so I bought a six month plane ticket. When I retumed to Latvia a year and a half later, my goal tumed into 'How can I stay here beyond the six months?". That was what I fueled myself into, and basically, I lucked out - circumstances and people - and I got the opportunity to stay in Latvia.
My family supported my wanting to go to Latvia. My mother has always encouraged us to try living elsewhere, like somewhere in the United States. The idea of moving from place to place has been part of our family's mentality. My friends did partly, I Mink that they were a bit envious that I could just pick up and go, so to speak. I think that a few of my friends couldn't understand why I was going, especially those who didn't have any ties with Latvia, they didn't see the purpose.
But I couldn't not come to Latvia. It's like you wake up one morning, and you know something, you realize that you don't have a choice. My certainty about going to Latvia was also connected with the fact that I had met someone who was really special. I wondered how many times in your life do you meet someone with whom you think "WOW, this is it! This is something really neat". I felt that I owed it to myself to find out if there was something in this or not. That's how I thought about it. I guess that's the attitude I had about life here in general - I owed it to myself to find out what made it so extra special to be here in the first place. I always thought that I didn't want to wake up in ten years and think to myself "God, I should have pursued that or I should have tried it, tried living somewhere while I still had the chance". I'm not getting any younger, and eventually I'll find myself in a position where I won't be able to travel freely, and just pursue things on a whim. Life is more interesting here. That's what all the foreigners say about life in Latvia. The one trump card here is that ifs damn more interesting. I mean this is a developing nation, it's so full of the beginning of something, and you feel like you're part of it. You can feel like you're part of a community, like you have something in common with them if you grow with them. It's a much different experience than just showing up here in fieyears time and doing something here then. I almost missed it. If I had only come here next year, then I would have. It's incredible how things have changed in just the short time that I have been here. I think I amved in the nick of time. no longer a guest - finding my place in Latvia
I arrived in March. I think the weather really has an impact on people, especially imagine if your life is depressing to begin with. Imagine how much more depressing it feels when its grey, wet and damp like it was all of March. People were longing for spring, but it just wasn't coming. Spirits were really low. You know when there isnY enough food, or at least not good enough food, and stuff like that. So then I arrived here, and people were preoccupied with their everyday problems at work, in their families or relationships, or whatever - the point is they had their lives. So even though they knew that I was in Latvia, and later they said that they were happy that I was here, they also said that I couldn't expect them to change their lives to accommodate my arrival. It would be the same if they came to Canada, I too couldn't change my life just because they were there. That was something that I learned fairly quickly. it's just the way it is.
It's very strange to be in Latvia, and to realize that you don't have to leave if you don't want to. It really changes things. You are no longer a guest. You have to start thinking about how you're going to be able to settle yourself into a normal life, from a practical point of view, but also in term of the social network,
One of the reasons why I was drawn to Latvia was because I met people who I wanted to form friendships and relationships with. On the other hand, the one thing that will probably drive me away from Latvia, if things don't change, is that they are really behind the times in their thinldng, and it's really, really hard to bridge the gap. Things have been changing physically, but I don't think that people's minds are able to change at the same rate. On the surface it seems fine, but then something is said or done, and it almost throws you ten steps back and you go "WHAT!? I can't believe that you just said that" or "I can't believe that you really think that". These are not just isolated instances, it happens across the board and on a daily basis. Even with my friends who are making an effort in doing and learning, and are trying to be more Western, sooner or later you see them do something that makes you think "God, with that kind of behaviour you're not going to get anywhere!". You see there are really basic things like not showing up on time or not showing up at all, and I'm not talking about someone being delayed. I'm talking about people coming two hours late and not thinking anything of it. They don't seem to have learned to show common courtesy and respect for the fellow human being yet, these things that we take for granted. I've been trying to figure out how I'm going to be able to get along with these people and attitudes, and I don't know if that's even possible. From my conversations with other foreigners, the only people among us who are going to sunrive living in Latvia are those with a good sense of humour, because there are so many bizarre and ridiculous things here, that if you take everything seriously and you're not able to laugh about it, then you can go crazy. I've always been able to laugh about absurd situations. and that has really helped me here. When it gets really bad, you just go like "What the hell!? All these people are such losers". You have to start laughing about the situation and the people causing the aggravation, because then you can feel more okay again. It helps you realize that you're not so bad or crazy. IVe seen many foreigners do this, and they band together and use it that way. The only way that foreigners will make it here is if they are able to look at these situations objectively. At the same time you're living it, so it doesn't always work since it can be hard to be objective.
During my first trip to Latvia I was really taken with the whole country. Riga as a place was a symbol for me. When I first returned here, and I looked around me and realized that I was living in Riga, and what all of that had meant in my life and my parents' lives and my grandparents' lives, and that I am completing the drde. The thought of living in Riga seemed like an amazing wonder. Now I only fed that way on rare occasions. Maybe it's because I live here, and I know that I can stay for a while, that it doesn't seem so exotic anymore. Cs becoming familiar, and anything that becomes familiar loses its charm. Other things become more interesting. You become part of everyday life here. You're no longer a transient factor, you are part of the crowd or the scene or whatever. You become more permanent here, and people begin to count on your being here. But I also think that some people still distance themselves from foreigners because they know that they will leave. This plays an important role in the relationships between foreigners and local people. can an outsider become an insider?
Latvians seem to have an inferiority complex, that's why they need to draw attention to their accomplishments. The local Latvians seem to have an even larger inferiority complex. They're not stupid, they see the differences, and they have some idea about how we have grown up in the West in comparison to how they live. I think that has really affected them very deeply, but of course it's not something that you can change. Now everyone wants to get to the West, so now we feel like the important ones here. We're the ones who will help the locals make the transition from where they were to the next phase. For example, you speak English, you can be helpful in writing letters or proposals, you have access to and know how to use computers, and so on. You have this knowledge and know how, and they don't. So on the one hand you have the ability to help them, but on the other they see the incredible difference between you. If you live here then you see how rapidly everything is moving in the Westem influence, it's unbelievable. But as Isaid earlier, the gap's widening because they have the services and the shops and the food and restaurants, but they can't get in there, they can't touch the stuff. So what does that mean? At least they see it's possible, but at the same time you feel even more hopeless.
Having a solid job, in the foreign diplomatic corps, and making a good salary is another thing that sets me apart, like who I'm with and then how I live or how I could live if I wanted to. You see my heart and soul is with the local people. I'm not interested in my job as a way of fostering a career, my motives are purely practical. But inevitably I've also become part of the foreign elite society, so I am part of two very distinct societies and that is not easy.
A lot of my bcal friends don7 have normal jobs yet, and that creates a problem. I think they viewed me differently during the fist two or three months that I was here. You know, they saw me as more similar to them. Now I'm set apart because I have something solid. The irony is that the only way I can stay here, and stay here with them, is by having this solid routine job. Don't you think that I'd like to run around and do whatever I want, not have to worry about what time I wake up, and enjoy my creative, artistic side or support them indefinitely in their artistic endeavours? You know, I'd love to do that, but the only way that I can live here with them is by doing this stuff, but I don't think they get it. For some of them it's just a big bonus.
People can be very deceitful here. It's how they've grown up. They do something for something, they don't usually do something just for the sake of doing it, so I think that I can never feel one hundred percent sure about why people are being friendly with me. It's really sad to have to say that. But luckily I haven't had too many instances when I've regretted being friendly with people. I have had some personal disappointments though.
I have a number of close women friends who I feel that I can talk to at any time. I've also made a few new male friends who have really neat ideas, we can talk about unusual things. I feel really supported by them. They listen to me, and most men don't listen to women here. I have two really special friends and they are genuinely interested in what I think, what I have to say, and what my thoughts are about the world and politics, and so on. 1 feel that they really respect me and care about what I have to say. That's really impoltant. because you just don't get it from people here. They think you're cute, or they think you're fun, or you have a full wallet, or you're fun to party with, or whatever, but not more meaningful stuff.
The more time I spend here, the more I become involved in every day life, and the deeper my friendships become. I'm beginning to feel more connected to the local Latvian social network, while at the same time I'm distancing myself from foreigners and the diplomatic service community. I'm beginning to understand what is going on here. But I think that that kind of understanding only comes with having experienced a lot of shit It was because I had to deal with all kinds of problems, and because it was really upsetting to me, that I started talking about them with my local friends. They gave me different insights into those situations. I slowly began to understand them better. I feel that this has been really key for me. Wahout that kind of understanding it's really difficult to function as a real member of the community.
I think that Latvians from North America are very dique oriented people and they've sort of formed this circle of exclusivity. That goes for wherever you go. If you're a Canadian Latvian going into the States, then you tend to hang out more with Canadian Latvians because that's your safety net. If you're a foreigner in Latvia, you'll hang out with foreigners as a safety net -- I mean ib all around. For example, I'm very consdous of the fad that a lot of foreigners in Latvia tend to speak English in front of the locals, which I find extremely annoying and verging on the obnoxious. I feel very, very conscious of how my local Latvian friends think or how they feel. It's just very important for me to be part of my local Latvian friendsJcircle as opposed to being part of some foreigneh a'rde in Latvia. who am I becoming? - where am I heading?
I was born with the determination, perseverance, and endurance to try to bring the two worlds together for myself, the two Latvian worlds - the East and the West. You basically have to be a pillar of strength to get through it okay. That's sort of a diche, but what it comes down to is - you have to be damn strong.
I think that many people forget how much the local Latvians have suffered, I don't mean physically, but in terms of what has happened here and what has happened to them. With all that they're damaged, they have an incredible resiliency, and for me to come into this society, I too have to be resilient in order to survive. That% something that we have in common. On the other hand, I feel that I am much more dear headed. I am able to give of myself, I don't have to hold back as much as they seem to.
A really important aspect of my current situation is that I don't have to wony about money anymore. I'd been a student long enough, and money was always a problem, it has generally been a problem in my family too. Now all of a sudden, I can live here and with what I earn, I don't have financial concerns anymore. For the first time in my life I have enough in a materialistic sense. It gives me the freedom to try and help others. Not that I throw money around, but ifyou go places with your friends and you see that they can't afford it, but you want their company, then you can offer to pay for them. Half the time they will say "O.K., finen, but you can see it in their faces (especially the men, because it's not accepted here that women pay to begin with) that it is hard for them to accept it. Local people feel put down by western attitudes. Latvians are big on pride, and the West puts them in an awkward position. It's the typical foreigner 'let's help everyone' attitude that infuriates so many locals. You put them in an awkward position. why do you always want to be the one who is indebted to everyone, you don't. The easiest way to give is through the kids, or if someone is ill and needs medical assistance.
I'm also becoming more cynical; you can't help it. The more I get to know people, the more I wake up to reality - I just see how deep some of the problems are, and how perhaps impossible they are to solve. I guess I've changed in that respect. I guess I was much more naive two years ago. I don't think I'm that naive anymore. You realize that you can? be a total idealist here; it's impossible. There's a lot that you have to fight every day. During the first few months that I was here, when I woke up in the morning, I felt like I had to battle the day. It was a battle just to exist, to survive. Its not like Mat for me anymore. On the one hand I feel quite normal now, but on the other, I find that I'm battling more long term goals.
I feel like I've aged. Not so much physically as spiritually. I've been feeling that I haven't yet become the person I'd like to be. I thought that perhaps I can force myself to pursue Me things that I really want to pursue more here. I thought that I might have a better chance at baffling that for myself here than in Canada. Here I have the freedom to be on my own. to just be me. My family is not here, and neither are my friends who know me inside out. So I have this feeling that if I'm going to do something with my life. I have a good opportunity to get started here. I'm not talking about building a career or something, I mean it more holistically, in terms cf becoming the person that I'd like to be. It is easy to get side-tracked though, and that is the problem that I'm facing right now. In the beginning there was depression, a time of feeling emptiness and loss. then for a while you just felt good being part of Me social network. and then you get a little bit jaded (which is where I'm probably at now). But then you have to talk yourself into doing something concrete here (which is what I want), I mean something that is besides my work. If I am not able to do that, then I feel that I should leave Latvia.
I feel really far away, distanced from Canada. I don't have a problem with Canada as a country, but I'm finding it really difficult to explain or convey my experiences to people in Canada. I donY know how to relate my experiences so 1 just haven't written to some people, even though I feel that I should. I'm finding it hard to explain what I'm doing here, how I'm feeling, who my friends are, I just donY know how to describe it all. Sometimes I get this nagging feeling that people are slipping away from me, but I feel unable to deal with it. I think that I will inevitably lose people who have been important to me. You say to yourself that your best friends will always be with you regardless, but you can only expect that for so long. I feel more in control of things, I think, than I felt when I was in Canada. I certainly had to get away from my family. I'm very happy I made the break, although I miss them. I just love being on my own, and I love having no one to answer to really. I think Latvia is the kind of place where you either lose yourself or get yourself together. I think that the experience of living in Latvia for me has been pretty incredible, regardless of any kind of negative things which I have experienced or do experience. I think that all in all I'm happy I made the move.
I really want to get home for a visit. It's really important to me. I probably think about that every week - I refer to it as "I have to get away". If somebody offered to fly me somewhere for a week, I'd be on that plane in an instant. As much as I like being here, I also feel like I have to get away from here for a bit. I feel like I have to get away from Me locals, I have to get away from this system, I have to be able to feel like a normal person like I'm used to. and my guess is that probably won't change. If anything, the feeling will become more urgent.
But then there are days when I'm sitting somewhere in Vecmga. in old town Riga, or just somewhere in Riga, and I look around and I'm struck by the thought that I couldn't imagine being anywhere else. That% what I feel most often.
Before I thought a lot about if and when I should return from Latvia, and I don't really find myself thinking about that much any more. The fact is that I live in Latvia and work here. and although there are still moments when I wish I was back in Canada. I certainly don't plan to go back on a permanent basis in the near future. If I get tired of it all. I'II go back. When you live in Latvia you don't really look into the future; I think that goes for both locals and foreigners, that you just live on a day to day basis. As long as I feel comfortable and I'm enjoying myself. I'II stay. When I feel like my patience is running out, or when circumstances are just getting to be where there's more negative Man positive in my life, then I'II seriously consider moving somewhere else. looking into the future
I think that I could only really appreciate my childhood and how I grew up and how I lived in Canada by virtue of having lived in Latvia. So I think that I've come to appreciate how my parents raised me a lot more after having lived in Latvia. It's like coming full circle, maybe not as much so for me, as for my parents and grandparents, the fact that they had to leave their homeland and live in exile, and now their (grand)children return and become involved in Latvia.
My family chose to raise us in a Latvian community. If my parents had not made that decision, then I would not be here. Their choice completely shaped my life up until now. This has a really significant impact on my own thoughts about how I'm going to raise my own children. Espedaly since decisions that I make for them, like whether I'll raise them here or in Canada or elsewhere, will shape and influence their lives as much as my parents' decisions shaped mine.
If you come to live in Latvia, chances are that sooner or later you are going to meet someone and you will start to think about future plans. But marrying a local Latvian is not for everyone, It makes for ail kinds of complications that I never would have had to deal with if I had stayed in Canada and married a normal Western Latvian. I've thought about just marrying a Western Latvian so that I wouldn't have to worry about the complications, such as how it will influence my children. I'm not sure if I would be willing to raise my children in Latvia. The way things are right now, I don? think that raising children here would be very wise. Although, I think that it will be more possible for children to grow up more normally here. There are both practical and emotional issues. My family doesn't live here, and that would probably mean that my children would only see their grandparents, aunts and uncles, and eventually cousins once a year, ifthat. I could ask my husband to move back to Canada with me, but that would also create complications, and his family would still be in Laboa.Basically, someone has to make a sacrifice, unless you can work it out that you spend half the year in Canada and the other half in Latvia. Since hebeen living here, I find myself thinking about these questions a lot.
I think that I just have to figure out what I want for myself personally, and then everything else will fall into place. Because if I don? figure out what exactly I want for myself as a person, then I'm just living a secondary life right now. I have to figure out what goals or ideals I want to achieve. I need to find the right balance. postscript
More than four years since my arrival in Latvia have passed, and only now in the last half year have I been able to come to tens with my original decision to relocate here and why I continue to remain.
The catalyst to this coming to terms has not been one single event, but more that as I near the start of another decade of my life, I set myself a goal to get in touch with my true feelings in regards to my time in Latvia.
Most of this new found clarity has to do with the fact that I've not only unavoidably grown and matured, but having done so in this environment, the process has forced me to reevaluate much of what originally drew me to move here. Part of that original pull was not only the cham of living abroad, but of living abroad in a place with which I felt I had a great deal of emotional attachment to boot.
The irony is that I now believe that this previous emotional attachment was instilled in me by my parents and grandparents, and by Latvian society in exile as a whole, and was not really mine. Perhaps only now after actually having lived here I've been able to form my very own emotional attachment to Latvia. One based on reality, not on the abstract.
I must admit that this whole process has been rather trying, mostly emotionally and sometimes physically (ask me what I think of my decision when, in the middle of winter, the hot water has been tumed off for two weeks!!), but I seem to feel a great deal wiser for having had this experience in comparison to my peers who remained in Canada. Not everyone has a chance to experiment with life as I've had.
I can add that overall I'm happy with my decision. I still do and always will miss being around my family, and I now value the meaning of family more than I ever did.
Living, maturing, growing and developing a career here in Latvia has been more than just interesting, it's been downright challenging. I've leamed along the way that part of my essence of being is that I need "interestingnand enjoy "challenging". And that is why, at least for now, I'm staying. (July 4, 1996. Riga) post-postscript
March 19th will mark a full six years since Latvia became my "home," and I have to admit that I no longer spend nearly as much time analyzing why it is that I'm still here. It has been fascinating, but not easy. Over this time I've developed some very important friendships, but I have also felt myself grow apart from certain former comrades in ams. And yet I've been wonderfully surprised by the ease with which I can communicate with other old friends even though our lives have diverged incredibly.
Some of the emotional bonds which shaped by previous life do less so now, but other bonds still continue to give me the extra strength I need at certain times. The bond with my family is as strong as ever, though, I know now that I am more a (very welcome) guest who arrives once or twice a year for a visit, but no longer really part of the household.
I still sometimes turn inward to the cache of colourful memories I have of the place where I grew up, which I can conjure up if I need to remember. The biggest change for me, however, has been that I have found a very special someone who has given the notion of home a trueness which I have not felt since I left Canada. (March 1,1998. Riga) Commentary:
MHra's story was told over a five and a half year time period. The initial interviews took place in Riga during the summer of 1992 when she was only planning to stay until the fall. The next set of interviews occurred in Canada a year later, duling the fall of 1993, when MZra was here for a brief visit Follow~ngthat we have continued to be in touch. The first draft of her story was completed during the summer of 1994. Since that time MBra has periodically sent updates to her story. It is interesting how her, initially short term, commitment to living in Latvia has extended to six years strong. She has gone through changes during this time period, and has shared some of the highlights in her story postscripts.
MHra's experiences of growing up in a Latvian family living in a community in exile were predominantly positive. She feels that her upbringing and the choices that her parents made in raising her greatly shaped her life and her own subsequent choices, namely feeling drawn to living in Latvia Her story centers around life experiences in Latvia, both personal, interpersonal and societal. She raises many issues and gives examples which illustrate many us and them struggles between East and West currently being played out in Latvia as the 'Wild East" continues to evolve. She feels very connected with and committed to her local friends. Her own experiences have allowed her to better undewtand where they are coming from, although at times the culture dash in interpersonal terms is difficult to deal with. She expressed the necessity of a sense of humour to survive living in Latvia.
Her personal struggle has been to determine her path in life, to allow herself as an individual to grow and develop. In approaching the new decade that her thirtieth birthday brings, MSra found herself reevaluating her own life and choices, specifically in relation to her relocation to LaDlia. She felt that her original move to Latvia was greatly influenced, not only by the people she met there and the place as a whole, but by the strong emotional attachment which she felt to Latvia because of her upbringing. After having lived there for more than four years, she finds that she may now truly have developed her own emotional attachment to Latvia, one that she says is 'based on reality, not the abstract". Although life is often challenging in Latvia. Mars also finds it extremely interesting. She craves both of these, and this is what keeps her there for now.
Another year and a half later in March 1998, six years after first having moved to Latvia. M%a finds herself settled in Latvia, and in a relationship which gives "the notion of home a truenessn for her once again, for the first time since having left home in Canada. Chapter Six
The Cosrnopo/ifanMissionary
Laimdofa's Story
My life to date has spanned continents and several cultures. Indeed, I feel lucky to be able to call myself a cosmopolitan. Latvian-Canadian, Canadian-Latvian, Eumpean-Canadian, Canadian-European? Let the beholder make his or her choice of a label, if it is deemed necessary. I see myself simply as a warmhearted person with an interesting background and fun to be with.
I was born in Canada of Latvian parents; parents who met in the emotional aftermath of a brutal and confusing war. I am the tail-end of the baby boom, giving me the advantage of experiencing the opportunity of an economic upswing around me, gaining by osmosis the comfort and values a stable, democratic, free and fair society can give an individual. I am the oldest of three children who were brought up in my fatheh own words in a "benevolent dictatorship". My sister is very close to me; my brother distant; both are artists and have started their own families in Canada. When I was ten to sixteen years old, my family lived in Germany. which shaped my attitude to active politics and both confused and consolidated a sense of national identity: Latvian? Canadian? German? European? Left-winghight-wing? But Europe gave me an understanding of the role history plays, a great sense of style and a deep yearning for beauty, culture and intensive living; something that hasn't left me to this day. Canada gave me the gift of freedom and tolerance in all its glorious pemutations.
Tom physically and emotionally between continents, countries, values, societies and desires, I never completed a higher education, but became a successful autodidact in the area of communications. My greatest strength is that I am a "people-person" and like to create order. Living on both continents, with passion for travel and things unexplored has given me the opportunity to participate in historical changes in Europe, to live life in the peripheries of power and influence, and sometimes even shape them. And by the same token have made me a single woman without children.
These days I have embarked on my life's greatest adventure: moving to Latvia. Thus, my opening statement comes fullcircle: I now know for sure that I am a cosmopolitan - a person at home in very many places, but without a single home anywhere. Life here is a daily adventure. There is no real time for reflection, though I get asked reflective questions "sans cessen. But life's great, challenging and I don7 rue a day I've spent here yet. (Though some have been a little demanding.) (October 4,1994. ma)
growing up a cosmopolitan Latvian - fuming points
I come from a family that has always been extremeJy active in the Latvian community in Toronto and in exile in general, and was usually perceived to be on the leftist side of things, the progressive side of things. I am probably very lucky that my memory before we moved to Germany is one of being part of a strong community. It's a very natural thing, you know, to go to folk dancing, Girl Guides and whatever else. And there was always stuff going on in our house, you know, I mean you were part of it.
My family moved to Frankfurt when I was ten. We spent six years there. and as far as I'm concerned I grew up there. In six years I definitely became politicized, in other words, very aware of politics. We barely saw any Latvians there - we had very little to do with the Latvian community. The Latvian German community was one step away from death when we were there. There were very few people compared to Toronto's huge number, and they were very old, very stodgy. In Toronto we went to Latvian school where you had 30 people in a class room. In Germany we had Latvian school with my brother and my sister and two other kids. Our parents taught us, so there's a big difference there.
Latvia was always constant in my background, my sistets as well. So language, culture, Latvian issues, were always one common denominator. In Germany we were looked on as Canadians and when we came back to Canada we were looked on as Germans. Somewhere in there the most important one was the Latvian element. I would say the much more profound turning point was coming back. We were brought back from Germany to Canada ultimately to stay Latvian. Which worked, that part worked. I didn't want to come back to Canada, I wanted to stay in Germany. Taking a sixteen year old back from anywhere is just excruciating, and it took me twenty years to talk about that, how excruciating it really was.
Coming back to Canada, and that's where really that story starts, my first impression was of how many people were there, my second one was of how incredibly conservative the community was. And there we were, drawn into the Latvian community, which seemed very alien. I think that we probably performed the Latvian rituals and our work very well, but it took quantum leaps to fit in with the mob in ceitain activities. So the next turning point came in 1972 when I had finished high school and was promised a trip to Germany. That was the one time I thought I was going back home. However, when I went back to Germany, I realized that it wasn't 'going badc homen anymore, and became aware of how quiddy relationships can change. People you thought were the closest of friends, suddenfy couldn't even st through a coffee together again and share, because as people we had just become very different. Now by sheer coincidence, I ended that summer, of visiting old friends in Germany, an international Latvian youth conference in London that definitely sucked me into the Latvian community like a vacuum cleaner.
By coincidence, right after that I went to visit Latvia for the first time in my life. I remember. in 1972, coming out of "Hotel RTgan where I was staying. I was right across from the opera. and it was a sunny day. I suddenly looked over these trees and saw Mother Latvia's statue, the "Freedom Monument". And I thought : My God, this is real, you know, this is really real, and ifs even better than I thought it would be. So that's the very first impression of Latvia. And that really changed my life, so that now I became devoted to the cause, ultimately, the cause of freedom and independence. That changed my life because I knew my people are here (in Latvia) and I knew my people were dying before my eyes. When I left, I somehow swore to myself that if they were going to die, you know be it my generation or the next, it might as well not be with a whimper, but a mighty scream.
The impression made on this particular trip went very, very deep. It was an incredible bonding experience, where we were all people of very different political persuasions and directions but there we were together in Latvia for the first time. After coming back, I became politically active in the Latvian community, which instantly stopped any possibility of getting any visas from Moscow. At a later date, in 1985, at the Baltic Peace and Freedom Cruise I was in charge of media. We were four people who were publicized by TASS as being CIA agents for being involved. So you can imagine that with the KGB in Moscow we were not exactly the most popular people. There were several times I tried to get visas to visit Latvia and it was impossible.
That whole problem of being highly involved in the Latvian community helped me totally digress from university. I hated university, didn? like studying, was very, very unfocused and probably subconsciously working out the past four years of being uprooted several times. Then I gave up on school and wound up working for the Government of Ontario. And there I met a man who was a founder of a group called "Up With People".
Up With People was a nonprofit youth organization that provided musical performances, where people from all over the world would visit families and participate in an educational program. Up WRh People was a wonderful experience because they had a myriad of nationalities from all around the world, 500 people, and you'd be travelling all around the world, living in all kinds of homes. I lived in a flat in Harlem and a castle in Belgium, I lived in all kinds of places, breweries in France, with monks in Switzerland. As a matter of fact, I met the Pope before he became Pope, when he was still Bishop of Krakow in Poland. So it was a wonderful year and a half on the road.
The next real turning point was when I moved to Germany in 1987.1 worked for the Volkswagen Group, which was the first time that I worked for a huge corporation (the revenues from Volkswagen are the size of Noway's GNP), and the first time really going back to Germany to work full-time. I dealt with the Chairman of the Board of management, working with PR people around the world and working with three different Olympic games.
Wm perestroika, the borders with Eastern Europe became a little looser. In 1989,l had 136 Latvians stay at my house that I had not known then and a lot of good stories to tell about that. That was quite extraordinary. This was before the wall fell, and we were the three (one person in Hamburg, myself in Braunschweig, and somebody else in Berlin) that people from Latvia could instantly access. I know a lot of people who, thank God, never even made it to my telephone number. In Riga in 1990.1 understand that my telephone and the others' were being sold for 1000 rubles, with the information of what you have to do or say before you can be able to get in my door! And they all thought they could buy cars from me. Thank God in my own profession I travelled a lot, so often I wasn't home.
Of course, the most exciting part of that was the night of November 9, 1989 when the Berlin wall tumbling down". And I was there, two days later. I saw the Brandenburg gates open; I saw Checkpoint Charlie being flown away. I think that for me the fact that the cold war was over really came home when I literally stood watching Check-point Charlie being flown away with a crane, flying away. Those are true turning points, and my job gave me the privilege of working a lot in East Germany and other points east. Those are experiences where suddenly your eyes really open up. And all things Latvian become very normal because it's not only happening in Latvia. What is happening in Germany is happening in Latvia is happening with the Czech Republic, everywhere -- all obviously with its own aspects, but it's not very different sociologically.
The first time that I went to Latvia again was in 1988, and I was very surprised that I got a visa After that I went almost three times a year. I've also been there in past years bringing groups of VW management and other Vl Ps for two or three day trips. My whole family went in 1988 for the very first free 18th of November (Latvian Independence Day). It was the first time the five of us met in one place at one time since I went to Germany. So that was quite memorable. We threw a party there for family and friends. For the first time in a long, long time on both my parents' sides, the whole family was there.
I also happened to be in Latvia two weeks prior to the putsch in August 1991.1 was very angry because I had left Latvia just two days before the putsch, and I was very unhappy that I was "missing out on the party of all parties". I never in my life thought, ever, that in my life time I would see an independent Latvia, or ultimately free Latvia, with the hope that even the tribe itself would survive. Will we suwive? I think that's still a real question. Only time will tell how this will be resolved.
why am 1 going to Latvia? - it's now or never
I'm 39 years old. And what I've really done in the past year is totally reevaluate my life and make decisions pertaining to it. But I knew that if I don? go to Latvia now, I never will, and I really don't want to be stuck in a situation of "what if,'' down the road. I truly have the means to do so now, and I'm doing it; it's very right now. I feel it really is now or never, and I'm sure it will be a big change. But such is life.
Going to Latvia from Germany is a very simple thing, Latvia is doser than it is from Canada, not only geographically but also mentally. By now it's, well, it's kind of just a place to go to and see how things change. I was there last November, June and now. This is an expensive undertaking. I've flown there, driven there, taken trains or ferries; different ways. I always wonder why; I mean, my brother will go to the Caribbean or Costa Rica, and I wonder why I'm going to Latvia. A friend of mine keeps on saying: "Why do you want to move to Latvia? It's cold and rainy there. Why don't you do the south of France or Italy, or even Rio?" And very often (I was in Florida for the first time this year) I really ask myself: "Am I once again totally out of my mind?" But there must be something I think at the subconscious level: "1 can't not do it, definitely, I can't not do it."
I think that the reality that I would actually be able to move to Latvia came to me about two, two and a half years ago. That it could be, maybe, pemaps feasible. In 1991 1 went with two friends to Latvia because I thought the initial approach would be to imporbexport goods. I have a great penchant for design. I love fantastic design. I think Latvia is one of the few countries that truly has very good, internationally acceptable designers. A girlfriend of mine and I both decided that we had three programs we thought we should explore. One dealt with jewelry, one dealt with linens and one dealt with designing, manufacturing and exporting of Christmas ornaments (for lack of a better description). And boy were we ever 'babes in wonderland in Latvia-
I have a girlfriend in Latvia, who's Latvian, who I think is the most incredible entrepreneur of any ilk and any sex that I have ever met - I think she just smells money. This woman helped us a little bit, but I understand now, two years later, that we actually talked past each other in a way, because we were using the same words but we were definitely, you know. thinking different concepts. Now this whole plan of ours fizzled out then just because neither my friend nor I found an easy way to deal with these goods, and both of us had other full-time jobs. So I guess the next step is that it was very dear to me that I couldn't do this sort of on the side having a full- time career, and the career that I had in public relations to date was highly demanding; not a nine- to-fie-and in-the-evening-I'll-pursue-my-hobby kind of a job.
Then a year ago, I knew that I was going to drastically change something in my life. I decided to move from, in that case, Prague to Canada, rest two months, and then go back to Latvia and start to work there. Frankly I'm glad I didnY do it at that speed. But I went to Riga for two weeks to explore concretely whether I was dreaming, 'Is this really something for me or not. and if so, how would I do it?"
I lived in Prague right after it became independent. It was really blossoming and I think thafs what Riga is now starting to get into. Irs on one hand frustrating but on the other hand incredibly exciting, absolutely incredibly exhilarating, challenging, interesting. If nothing else, I hope I'll learn Russian in the process and I will have a good story to tell in two years' time. missionary of western values -- "besser-wessi"
In Europe, particularly in Germany, Mere is a good definition between the east and the west; you have the phenomenon in German that people always divided themselves linguistically between the " Wessies" and the "OssieS':the "ones from the west" and the "ones from the east"; and that was plior to the wall falling down. Now in German. there's also another thing, and that is a "Besser wissef: someone who knows better, "smart alec" is what the word implies and is commonly used in the German language. Now you will often hear of Me " Besser-wessie" which is almost a derogatory ten implying that this person is, you know, a "smart ass" from the west, a know-it-all from the west. This scenario is playing itself all across the East, whether it be Czechoslovakia or Poland or for that matter in the Baltic and obviously into Russia. Any westerner going over Mere -- unless he or she is totally naive -- should know that from the very beginning nine times out of ten you will be looked upon as the "Besser-wessl'. Like me. I know some people right now, I've met them, to whom moving there and doing business is a very mercenary thing. My therapist says correctly, she says: 'You're going as a missionary." And that's truly ultimately why I feel I'm going there; that's the primary reason - missionary in the sense of values, western values, the proverbial Protestant work ethic, and just to be there. really just to be part of it
1 knew that the vehicle for my making money isn't communications, but in consultation, with many people. I decided that I did not want to work for anybody of the post-Soviet em - anybody in Latvia who'd grown up in Soviet Latvia. I really want my primary partners to be from the West, because I believe: "East and West - never the twain shall meet" will be there for a very long time to come.
The perception that 1 think will be there, especially in certain areas, is number one that I'm going to come in to take away jobs from somebody else.
So I knew that I didn't want to be involved with any existing companies directly and that I would have to start my own company in something. And that3 what I'm going to do. I'm going to start an agency in total communications which encompasses advertising, public relations, corporate affairs, communications, architecture, corporate identity, organizing events, that kind of stuff.
I think that moving anywhere, it takes a year to get used to it, anything, even if you know the place. That even applies to Toronto, even if I'm moving back to Toronto, it takes a while to kind of get used to it again, find out what your favourite cafe is, or whatever it is, when I like to go to Me movies. So that should be the first year, and I Mink after two years, you either know that you're going to stay or not. I'm going there wholeheartedly, and I would like to be able to stay there, and I hope that works out, but I'm just saying that if I don't like it that I've given myself the freedom to come back. what do I expect? - I am not "going back home"
I had an interesting dinner with my uncle this year. He became quite nostalgic that he hadn't been to Latvia yet, and he said " Cik nozimQi, ka Tu kZl pirma' no mDsu gimenes atgriezies dzimtenp or how monumental it is for our family that you are the first member of the family that has decided to go back home. And I said, I am not going back home, I am going towards. I am going to a country that I know of but I'm not from there. And I think that's an issue for some of the pensioners "going back home", but it isn't home any more. The first question I usualiy get by cdleagues, friends, family and the like is "Are you excited?". And I'm not. I mean Imnot at all excited. Mainly because the true feeling is that I feel very natural and comfortable with what I'm doing. Its not a sudden decision by any means to move to Latvia and establish a business there. I'll just try it, and try to live there. And if anything, I'm more apprehensive about individual aspects of life over there and about doing business over there which, centers mainly around human relationships and the fact that they'll all be redefined the minute I cross the border. But excitement is definitely not going through my head.
I know an awful lot of people over there, be it family, friends, acquaintances. I know, in any given situation of moving to a place where you've been a visitor before obviously the relationships with people you've met there, worked with, played with, whatever it is, change when you move to stay. And I think that in this case the change will be much more profound.
The fact is relationships are changing. It suddenly dawned on me that the real difference between going there as "ossie-wessje'' is in the framework the Israelis have by applying the term "sabra"- you either are "sabra" or not, and "sabra" is he or she who was born in that country and grew up there. And if you're not "sabra, if you're a Jew who's born in Canada and grew up there, then you don't really ever belong to Israel ever, ever, ever, no matter where you come from, even if you move to Israel and stay there. So "sabra" in Latvian is like "savgjit?'.I think that in the post-Soviet world it's very much "sabrat' and the othen, no matter how much you want to ignore that.
An actor I know said about a Latvian soap opera portraying supposed Latvian- Americans, ''You [from the West] have to pay for your parents' sins". And I said "Which sins?". And he said the sin is that they wound up in a better place than everybody else's parents here after the war. An interesting comment, and I think he's very right, because the level of unacceptance of Westerners is based on jealousy. It is also based on a lack of self confidence, and on fear -- fear that we are taking away the better jobs and we are taking away whatever else there may be, without understanding that to a large extent we are actually giving something back to the community in one way or another. So I actually expected Mat to happen. I never expected that to happen that drastically and said to my face. In the long run - this is a society based on relationships that are based on half-truths, and a very different sense of communicating. People don't say things negative outright or they won't tell you bad news, they just won't talk, or won't say what they don't understand. So that's a very difficult thing to cope with.
In March, another fellow here organized an evening and invited all Me Latvian Canadians to his house. He had a wonderful sign pasted on his door for everybody to sign and it was "Trimdenieki Tnmds - the exiles in exile - which I think is probably the best definition of what it's like here. One of the most interesting aspects is the one of definition of nationality, definition of seR And I am sure that I speak in Me name of most emig6 Latvians whobe come here. Fist of all, I donY think that we will ever be accepted as part of the society. We're not accepted as Latvians, really (and I donY even know why I'm crying) and we never will be, and in parentheses, Thank God, because I wouldn't want to be seen as one of them.
Somebody asked me: where is home, and where's "the housen? I think that my spirit is at home on a rock in Magnebwan on a lake where our cottage is. Home is also very much the friends that I have here in Canada and this year proved to me what a wonderful group of friends I truly have here. My spirit soars in Barcelona, since to me that city joins all I love in history. design, national wnsaousness and joiedevivre. Something in me probably feels most at home in Spain - I don't speak Spanish though, at least not well enough.
Latvia. a part of it feels like home, a part of it doesn't, and probably never will. I believe I am one of the truest cosmopolitans. So, where is home? Nowhere. I am a Taurus and, by the Chinese horoscope, a hone. It's very important for a Taurus to have four walls around you that are yours. For me that's very true - and I've been living out of suit cases now for two years, and I figure it'll take me another year until I truly have a place to live where I'll be permanent for a lime while. So, home's a difficult issue. a year later - corning towards my destiny
We were talking about why people come here (Latvia). There are people who have moved here to move away from something. I am convinced that to come onto a new territory you have to want to come here "towardsn, you have to come "to"Latvia, not "away fromn Canada. You have to want to live here for yourself, not to run away or seek a solution to a situation that's impossible elsewhere, be it Germany or England or France or anywhere else. And the people that are most unhappy here, I think, are those who have moved "away from* and haven't 'come towardsn.
I think you need to have a great sense of humour to live here because if you take everything too seriously you will eat yourself up internally. When a friend left Riga for Canada in December and we had a going away brunch, I asked her "So what are you going to tell people in Canada? What has your experience been?" She said, "Well, every day is an adventure; no day ever ends the way that you expect it to when you wake up and you start out on it; every day brings a new adventure." And if you don't have a sense of humour you're going to eat yourself up, irs that simple. There's a deep desire within me to find a way to work with younger people. I think that. Latvian or not, the most devastating result of the communist era is what's happened to children's minds, to children's sense of self, particularly young girls, but the young boys as well. Their idols now are criminals, boys with shaved heads, because they have cars and stereos and they have perceived power. Intellectual values are almost worth zero here; they're definitely tucked away in the basement. I need to find a way to spend time with one of my god children here - he's a bright young boy -- to at least give him a sense of how it can be different: "Yes, you can have material values and a very well situated material life but there are cultural values as well." How this is going to happen I don't know because I need to settle the practical part first so there is calm at least in one sector of my life. Personally, I'd still love to have a family but I think that's highly unlikely.
Ideologically, Latvia, to be Latvian, doesn't need to be defined for me - it is. Any definitions of what it is - I think that this nation will go through much more of a search in the near future to define what Mat really means. But when you live here - it just is, that's all there is to it. I have this deep desire to be able to raise the quality of probably anything in the realm of culture that's around me and to do things well. As a matter of fact, from this interview I go directly to a meeting of a cemn sub-committee on the rebuilding of the opera as to how to do tenders for restaurants and stores and that kind of thing, and we're all exiled Latvians doing it, young exiled Latvians.
So it's been marvelous; I'm very, very happy to have come here. I don't know where I'm going! But in the first year, one of my cousins was quite amazed that I was capable of having business trips to Pans and Helsinki within the first half year of living here, thus the globe trotting seems to not end. So, everything that's happened to me makes perfect sense.
At the moment I have gotten the massive task of figuring out a communications program for the privatization program for the Republic of Latvia, which brings many points at once very closely together: east, west, dollars, DM'S. cultural differences, etc., etc. And I wouldn't be able to do it in the cultural context that I'm seeking to resolve some of these issues if I hadn't had the background, both in Latvian school, Divreizdivi (m),youth conferences, etc. In the 1970s. 1980s, I spent a lot of time within the Latvian youth organizations. the epitome of which is the Baltic Peace and Freedom Cruise. And looking back, if you look at the Latvian republic today, the people who are either in government or in the embassies who are extremely active here in rebuilding Latvia, are all the organizers of those events. Absolutely everybody. So somewhere that did take effect. I'm not exactly a fatalist but I'm very close to being a fatalist. I do believe that every person has his or her own path made out in life and makes very, very minimal choices. And if I look back on my life even to date, I've had a very interesting path given to me by God in my life and I'm not quite sure what I'm being prepared for. I know I'm being prepared for something incredible just because of everything that happens around me and what I've Chosen to do of my own free will but it kind of all comes together. In hindsight, everything that I've done, the countries that I've lived in, the schools that I've gone to or not gone to, the professions that I've had, come vely much together here and I'm only 40 years old.
another year later
How surprising to read how correctly I had gauged the situation that awaited me in Latvia. The entry process was, indeed, difficult and - as I had thought - all relationships changed. As far as this wok's centml question about ethnic identity and the way that it changes. I believe that a move to the country where the identity should be grounded changes the feeling of belonging. For example, local Latvians (and I gather it is the same in Estonia and Lithuania) do not really look upon us as truly Latvian. We are not "sabra". At the same time, I am very happy that I am not like a local Latvian, that I have had the grace, luck and honour to have grown up in Canada and Europe. Identity is made up of many parts, ethnicity being one of them. And as the ethnic group's sense of self changes, so does one's self. I am as Canadian now as I am Latvian.
This summer, visiting in Toronto, I was struck by the change in attitude that had happened in me at a pool party, where exile Latvians met: the same people I had grown up with and whom I can thank for being as Latvian as I am. I had just anived a day ago and was very jet-lagged. People were talking about what was happening in RTga - some do business there, some teach there, but nobody lives there full-time. At one point somebody asked me for my point of view and my reaction was: 'for you, being Latvian. the country and issues of identity are still something exotic. For me, it is everyday life ('ikdiena?."
It will be intriguing to see how I view the same issue five yean from now. Commentary:
Laimdota agreed to participate in this study in the Spring of 1993. The first interview took place at the end of October 1993, a few days before she flew to Latvia to live there. We agreed to continue our dialogue through tape recorded narrations of her story and written conespondence. We exchanged several letters. and the f nal installment of Laimdota's life history narrative was tape recorded in Latvia in October 1994. She wrote her autobiographical introduction at this time as well. Laimdota received a draft copy of her story in September 1995. and included a post script to the approved story text.
Laimdota grew up Latvian in cosmopolitan circumstances. Born in Canada, her family moved to Germany where she spent her early adolescent years, and has worked abroad for much of her life. She comes from a family of progressively oriented. creative community innovators, and was an active organizer in the youth movement. The political changes in Latvia opened a window of opportunity for Laimdota to merge her life experiences and Latvian roots to become a missionary of Western values in Latvia. She embodies a strong Western identity and a rich array of international business experience that she can offer as Latvia evolves. Laimdota finds many challenging differences both professionally and interpersonally between local Latvians and Westerners. Her way of surviving the difficult circumstances is to maintain difference, remain calm and retah a sense of humour. Contrary to those Westerners who in coming to Latvia were running away from somewhere else. Laimdota sees herself as coming towards. It is her destiny to be in Latvia. Being in Latvia has allowed Laimdota's complex life experiences to come together in a way that makes sense to her. Chapter Seven
Coming To Terms Wth Inherited History
Valeska's Story
I struggle with feelings of disjuncture and displacement; my homelessness is a precondition for movement, for journey. Needing to understand my place within this continuum of life, I must trace back to their origin, the feelings and complexes that have been passed onto me through the generations, needing to explore the social, personal and historical influences that shaped the lives of my parents and grandparents, who have suffered the throes of war, loss. and uprootedness. I am searching for home, transcending the romantic and nostalgic, home which lies somewhere in the unity of the spirit and the body conscious, in a place of peace and redemption.
As I wander the streets of Riga, I take photographs of windows, doorways and walls. I study the reliefs of dispossessed angels and gods, the tired faces of night passengers in a streetcar, the language of laundry in courtyards, the sunlight filtering through a broken window in an abandoned stairwell. What is revealed and what is concealed? What are these traces, through the layers of destruction and alteration, these marks of lives that have passed through here before me? I seek fragments of beauty and vitality through the sacred, dear and ordinary within human experience, that I long to hold, defying time and history as we know it. The photograph preserves a moment and a memory, whose hidden meanings and secrets will reveal themselves to me with time. I decipher these images as metaphors connecting me to something larger than myself. The photograph is my ritual of remembrance. Six months later I am in the darkroom. enlarging the details of a picture looking for dues in the faces, gestures and reflections, searching for an intimacy and a communication with my subject matter. I study these images and I realize what they are telling me. I am searching for home. I am longing to be invited inside to the room spilling a warm glow into the chill night air, the room with fragile lace curtains. I am on the outside looking in, looking back at my reflection in the glass streaming with silver rivulets of rain. Someone is making dinner, and I hear the sound of a child crying, a violin concerto, the evening news in Russian, two lovers whisper secrets. a dog barks, and there are sirens in the distance. What is this place that takes me back to my origin, to the roots of things I must explore that are peculiarly my own, but tied into a collective memory that I am trying to unravel? What is this world, and what is this place that recreates for me magic moments from childhood, wonderment, a desire to cradle the world in my arms with pure love and compassion; at the same time, leaving me with an incredible longing and emptiness?
childhood memories
Looking back at family photographs I was raised as kind of the quintessential '50s daughter in the sense that my mom would make mother-daughter dresses and every time I look at my childhood photographs I was always dressed up like a little lady.
I was raised in a Latvian household. As far back as I can remember I was never taught English at home. I was actually discouraged from learning English and up until about the age of five all of my friends were Latvian - I didn't have any Canadian friends. I remember when I was in kindergarten I didn't speak any English and the kids teased me a lot. I had learned to speak English by the time I went into grade one. We used to live in a really ethnic area. After grade one, we moved to a brand new neighbourhood which was very Anglo Saxon, white middle class, and I started running into trouble there.
I felt awkward at school because everybody had a very English name, it was Barbara, Suzanne, Janet, Bobby, Billy. I also recall at one point wanting to change my name because I just felt really awkward about it and I was always centered out In school I was very much an outsider. I developed some very close friendships with girls. Some friendships that have lasted now for thirty years. But for the most part I was considered an outsider.
I know that coming from the family I did, I was always expected to excel and my parents always said: "You're so special and being Latvian is so special and you come from a good family, so you have to do well." So I recall that all the way through I was very, very competitive and I always, always got good marks. I used to come home with an 85 and my parents would say: rhat's just not good enough, can't you get a hundred, what's wrong with you?"
My parents put an immense pressure on my brother and me to do well. They said basically that how you do at school reflects back on the parents; therefore, if you don't do well you're bringing shame on our family. So naturally, instead of being a rebel at that point, I worked really, really hard because that's how I would reap any kind of rewards. It's funny because when I read Alice Millets the Drama of the Gifted Child I was crying because I totally identified with what she said. When I did really well I was sometimes put on a pedestal or held very high. My parents' friends came by and they said: "Oh, she did this," or "Oh, she did that." But if in any instance I slipped a bit or wasn't able to perform, then I was chastised. What sticks out is immense pressure to succeed and just that everything rotated around reward and punishment. It didn't rotate around who I was as a person. It was very much about what I achieved. and also very much about how other people saw me.
One odd thing that comes to mind is that at one point my friend Lisa and I had a competition, who could write the smallest, and I think maybe that was my first form of rebellion in grade three or four. I wrote so small in some notebooks that the letters could barely be seen. It's really interesting because when you write that small and so compressed, it's kind of symbolic - its like a total repression. It's a hiding of yourself. I remember, I worked very dosely with Lisa and both of us worked really hard to get high maks; we sat at the front of the dass and everyone despised us. They'd call us 'brown nose girls", and nobody would talk to us. And that's how it went up until grade six, until middle school. So, no matter what I did I was always on the outside.
I don't think I ever felt special. Yet I do recall moments of tenderness and love. I think my pwents always pointed out that we're special with almost a sense of superiority, perhaps as a need to defend and preserve our cultural difference. There was always that distinction made between Latvians, Iatviegi and Canadians, and when the word Canadian was said it was said in Latvian it would be kanZdie& (with a slightly condescending tone to voice), as if there was some kind of a status separation. In my mind what carties over is how a lot of Latvians and other people's parents still make that big differentiation, saying "these Canadians", and not realizing a lot of those people came over as immigrants too. I always felt growing up that I lived two separate lives, and that I was one identity for all my Canadian friends and I was a completely different identity for all the Latvian people that I knew.
The whole Latvian identity was very much defined around the home. It was defined in terns of the decor of the home. I remember when I went into other friends' houses their decor was very, very different. The Latvian home had a lot of embroidered pillows, all the Latvian artifacts, paintings, books. We ate different food. There are all those memories of bringing lunch to school - I'm laughing - bringing lunch to school and unpacking my lunch. My mother would make me things like oyster sandwiches (laughing really hard) these oysters would be sitting there and I loved those oysters, sardines, or egg with anchovies. The kids would go ooh, that smells so bad (laughing) and I'd go ooh, I don't like them and then I'd still secretly eat my sandwich in the school yard,
I remember that I very much felt that my identity at home was almost like an insulated construct because whenever I anived home from school it was just such a separate reality from everything else that went on out there. The things that we talked about would be different. I very much separated them. I think my whole Latvian side very much gravitated around the home and the family and because when you're younger your parents organize all your events, any spare time that I had was spent with Latvians. I went to Latvian heritage school on Saturdays and to Sunday School on Sundays. My parents had a summer house at the Latvian church camp properly so all my summers were spent there. When I went to school I'd tell kids about my summers and they couldn't relate, they didn't have the same thing. I think that growing up going to these Latvian camps was a good thing. I think it was very enriching culturally and creatively through all the games,stories, crafts, music, sports and nature activities that were organized. The Latvian cultural community provided a lot of activities and a lot of growth for kids. The kids that I went to school with in Etobicoke didn't have that. Those are the positive aspects. Those summers were spent in Sidrabene, which is one of the Latvian church camps. In those days there were pernaps three hundred children there. Nowadays I'll visit the summer camp and there's thirty children, but in those days they would take a group photograph of us and it would be just edge to edge kids, lots of kids. That was pretty liberating, and it was a lot of fun. But again, that whole Latvian experience was very separate from anything that I experienced outside of it; it was very, very different, and somehow the two were never bridged. It was just always assumed that everything you did socially would be Latvian and that everything else out there was just kind of a structure that you had to function in bemuse you are raised in Canada. And at that point too, multi-culturalism wasn't a very popuIar notion.
Once I started getting into being a teenager, I really started realizing how different my parents' values were, and that they were really in a way very scared to open themselves up to new ways of thinking and new values and more liberal attitudes that were manifest in Canadian society, from things like dating to things like virginity. Even when I was twelve to thirteen, my father and mother would let me out until midnight - one, if I was going to a Latvian dance, but if I wanted to go to a high school dance I had to be home by ten o'clock. They somehow saw that there was this big lurking danger out there, especially since I grew up in the late sixties - early seventies.
What I remember from being a teenager was that I had one distinct persona at home and I had one for school- When I'd go to school, I'd wear a skirt and a blouse and brown shoes, something very ordinary; I'd keep my clothes at a girlfriend's place and I'd change on my way to school, and change back before I went home. I wasn't allowed to wear make-up so I'd put make- up on at somebody else's house. I think I did what I did because it was very important to be accepted at school. I'd go to Latvian school Friday evenings, but I'd be a different person. My Canadian school persona was developing into one where I was like a hip girl, where I was getting tough. I didn't show any of my Canadian sides at Latvian school. Overall I think I was accepted in Latvian society. As a teenager I continued to participate in all the Latvian activities. I went to Latvian school on Fn'day nights, and I had my ream of friends there. I went to Girl Guides and I made a lot of friends there. The Latvian community allowed me to expand my cirde of friends because I made friends in Philadelphia, New Yolk, and I spent time with them and that was lots of fun. I even spent a couple months one summer in a camp in up state New York, and that was a nice experience. I began trying to assert my own identity in the Latvian circles as well, like the manner of dress that I took on. So the two identities in that sense were starting to merge for me. I found a lot of allies, girlfriends in Latvian society, who were equally rebellious. We'd stick together when we went to Latvian functions. like dances; we'd raise trouble and we'd have a lot of fun.
A big breaking point, came for me when I went to the Latvian high schwl in West Germany. I was sixteen. I begged my parents to let me go. I was profoundly unhappy at high school in Tomto. I remember thinking: something's got to change, I've got to leave, because I'm so profoundly unhappy. This life doesn't interest me, there's something wrong. I couldn't identify it. and of course I couldn't talk to my parents about how I felt. Going to West Germany when I was sixteen turned out to be one of the most liberating experiences. I had heard a lot of good things about the school in the sense that it would provide me with a way to be away for a year on my own without parents. I really was interested in speaking Latvian for a year and going to school there. The whole European experience enticed me, and I think also the idea of just being on my own. To me it was one big adventure. I think that's what saved me. Had I not done that, had my parents not given me the opportunity to go over there I may have actually taken up with a motorcyde gang and done something foolish. What I really liked about that whole European experience, going to this Latvian high school was that you had to take on responsibility for yourself. In essence, I think the big difference there was that individuality was very much valued and I met a lot of people who were sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, who were very, very different from each other and their individuality was very much valued and it was almost the opposite of what I found in high school in Toronto. In Germany, the more different you were the more unique you were considered and the more people gravitated towards you. Strong friendships were forged there. The whole experience allowed me to develop more fully a sense of who I was. I think that was a very good experience.
I spent most of the year speaking Latvian. I got very immersed in the Latvian culture, and the whole Latvian experience. I became extremely fluent in Latvian because I had to study all my subjects in Latvian. I became so immersed that somehow that became my own primary reality for a while. I remember coming back to Canada for Christmas and taking on an almost snob attitude. It was pretty funny, feeling kind of special. It was a novelty at that point to go to Muenster, and when you came back you were sort of looked at as somebody who was going through the special experience. Not always in a positive way though; I remember I went with my family to church and this woman openly attacked me and said that I was going to a school that was run by communists, that kind of nonsense. But in general, it was an enriching experience mat made you grow up really, really fast, really fast.
The summer after I went to Muenster, I travelled through Europe by myself for three months; I hitchhiked, I slept on the streets. In retrospect I think it was a bit insane, sleeping in doorways in Rome with my sleeping bag and sleeping on beaches in the south of France. I wish I had kept a diary at that time because I realize that I must have had an incredible strength, and this kind of wild, crazy nature. Yet I also had a sensibility about things because I tended to avoid danger. All of that really helped me grow.
When I came back here to Toronto, I really hated it. The whole way of living here felt absurd to me; it felt absurd to get into a car and go to a shopping mall after having lived in a medieval city for a year. I found it really hard to relate to the whole suburban environment I was in. When I went back to high school nobody talked to me. I remember, I came back and I was wearing clogs. I used to wear all black clothes and at that point nobody dressed like that, and so everybody used to always stay away from me. I spent a lot of time with people who had been in Europe with me and who could relate to that experience, and inevitably I suffered through that year in grade twelve in Toronto. I worked part-time to make a little bit of money and got a small scholarship from the community, and went back to Europe for grade thirteen. It was very. very generous of my father to allow me to go back. But it was under the stipulation that I get the German diploma. not just the Latvian. So I went back and I got a German Abbihrr, which meant that I graduated with papers that entitled me to study anywhere in Germany.
West Germany is closer to Latvia, and we definitely became more politically aware. It was the first time I met Latvians from Latvia who were my age and that was really quite something. Also, visiting Berlin, and seeing photographs of all the people who had tried to escape from Eastem Europe, kind of hit home the reality that I had relatives living in Latvia and they were denied certain freedoms of speech and certain rights. When I was in grade thirteen I also participated in a hunger strike for a month in solidarity with a family who was trying to get out of Latvia and who started a hunger strike there. Four of us women lived on a sidewalk in Cologne for a solid month and had nothing but water to drink We lived on the sidewalk with sheets across our bodies and I remember being attacked one night with tear gas and being kicked. These experiences in Europe brought certain political realities closer to home and it expanded my whole experience of being Latvian. When I came back to Toronto, I immediately went into university because that was expected of me. I enrolled in Victoria College in German languages and literature and after the first year I promptly got out of that. I was very ostracized at the University of Toronto. I was eighteen, I'd hitchhiked through Europe, I'd gone on all these adventures, I'd lived in Amsterdam and in London. I came into Victoria College where, for my nine o'dodc dass, all the women were wearing high heels, tons of make up, had their hair all nicely rolled and cuded. I sauntered in wearing tom blue jeans and a T-shirt, and that was viewed as very gauche. They even made fun of me in German conversational class; Me professor would point his finger at me and they'd discuss what I was wearing. I had a lot of strange experiences like that and after first year I moved completely into political science where I took courses with anarchists and rebets and conservatives, and it was this whole mixed bag of experiences, people from all over. I got very seriously into political theory and spent my first years at university studying the notions of nationalism and revolution. I was really interested in the two forces of socialism and nationalism, Marxism. I decided that I wanted to go on into graduate studies, but the last years of university I started seriously getting into modem dance performance, and then I discovered performance art I went back to university and did another minor degree in drama; I studied the history of drama and took a lot of summer courses. I basically studied political science and drama. I realized that if I was going to make some kind of political change or if I was committed to make any kind of changes in the world, I wasn't going to do them at the University of Toronto in the history or political science departments. I came to realize that I wanted to go out there and I wanted to work with performance.
1 left home because it was very difficult for me to live there, which to me was a very natural thing to do, to explore my own independence. I had felt independent since the age of sixteen or fourteen even, and I felt that I had to leave because I didn't feel comfortable in my family. I was never allowed to really express myself in my family. Every time that I tried to explore something that dealt with my own sense of self or identity, I felt chastised or punished for it. Even in terns of small things like clothes to how I thought, basically I was always dismissed. Even now, in matters my family cannot understand nor accept, I'm dismissed. when you inherit history
What I'm trying to understand is that when I think of my mother as a young girl at the age of fourteen in Latvia, when she tells me about her childhood she used to be this independent, strong spirit that would take off down the river and build boats and play in the reeds and spend hours by herself. I look at that spirit of a woman, and I look at my mother now living in the suburbs, still emanating strength, but carrying somewhere deep inside an unhappiness, perhaps a sense of bitterness at too much taken and not enough given. What happened in between? My mother once revealed a shattering intident where someone very dear and important to her never ever told her that they loved her. Too little love and too much sacrifice for others while denying things for the self. A parent's relationship to notions of 'entitlement" and "self-worth" seep into the next generation, and if negative, the effect can be devastating. It all relates to inherited experience of history within Me Latvian society and culture under hundreds of years of subjugation. It just carries over into you, shapes you. It is important to unravel and work with it - tadde it. This has been an excruciating, painful experience at times. Pemaps this has brought me back to Latvia, a need to break the cycle.
I went to my mother's house in Latvia. It was like going to the last place where there was order and peace and love and a family and what you might call a normal existence, an order, stability in her life. And when you go to that country and you realize the extent of damage that's been done and the violence, the extent of which I don't know because parents don? want to talk about those things, but you can imagine the extent of the rupture that went on. That makes me understand it all the more. But it's kind of like my generation has to deal with the residues of that rupture, of that violence. And the thing is that for somebody like my mother there's a lot of scar tissue that's just not healing fast enough - I like to look at it almost like a poison that flows through your veins, it sometimes activates and it sometimes doesn't. But unless you come to terms with it in some kind of a positive way you inevitably are going to give that kind of an energy and that insecurity and those fears to somebody else. Sometimes I think about the whole notion of forgiving and I ask myself "Can I forgive my parents for saying and doing the things that they did?" I can just accept them for who they are. It's a very Christian thing to forgive people. I'm not angry, but forgiveness is a funny word, because it is associated with forgetting and denial.
The fact that I grew up with parents who never, ever spoke about their past definitely influenced me. I never had an extended family; it was just mother and father and brother. I had no notion of what a grandmother is or a grandfather; the only thing I ever remember about that was once rai-sing a fuss about something at home and my father told me to be quiet because my mother had received a letter from Latvia that her mother had died. I just remember a blue envelope sitting on a table and my mother locking her door into her bedroom and nobody was allowed to deal with her. And so again it%having a whole past that's shrouded in secrecy, still of which I know nothing. When I was growing up, I also remember that my father sent parcels to the east. I know that a lot of things touched him deeply emotionally, and Me same with my mother, but they would never speak about that to us, so that if they ever got news of something or if somebody was sick, it was never really discussed or talked about, so you never really understood what was going on. It was just a big mysterious confusion so you just sort of lived your daily life. What was interesting for me was the first time when I looked at my parents' photo albums and saw photographs of people in Latvia, photographs of my father. I recognized the places in the photographs, I remembered those photo albums when I actualty went to Latvia and stood in those same places. Going to those same places is what to me made some of the most profound connections.
I think it was very painful for both my parents to talk about Latvia because they had lost a lot and sometimes seeing photographs of my parents when they were younger in Latvia, it seemed that that reality was remembered really fondly. There were a lot of really wonderful memories especially for my father. He'd speak a lot about Riga and his student days and how much he loved his farm. And then it seemed that there was such a beautiful pastoral simplicity in the way they were living, kind of like any of us when we're teenagers or kids, the world's uncomplicated. Your father and mother are with you, you work on the farm, there's a really beautiful simplicity, and then the war comes and it tears lives apart. I think that the pain was so immense, that those two worlds were never bridged. And I think what happened was that when parents talked about Latvia they talked specifically about their childhoods and they remembered very romantic, lovely things, and it stopped there, and there was almost like a silence or a pain and that was it. 1 think that both my parents went through a lot of suffering on their own.
Another thing that left a permanent impact in my mind was when, whife looking through the different books that my mother kept in the basement, I came across a book documenting Hitlets reign. It was published in Germany and it had the most amazing black-and-white photographs of Auschwitz in it and it was a documentary. I remember I was not even ten years old. I picked up that book just by accident, and I leafed through it and those images have never, ever left my mind; I've never picked up that book since because those photographs were so horrific. I remember putb'ng the book away and not asking anybody about what that was about. Meanwhile, I was saying to myself : 'Oh my God, this is just so horrific, why does my mother have this book and what's this book doing in our house?!" Things like that stick out in my childhood. And then when I'd go down in the basement there were all these different books from Latvia too. I somehow began to slowly connect that there were really horrific, somehow really important experiences that my parents were somehow linked to, that people had gone through things that they were not able to talk about. I got the sense that I couldn't ask questions. 1 recall when, at some point, I began asking questions, I was told not to ask them or that this didn't concern me or that I was too young to understand. So even if at some point I wanted to probe into things I don't think that my parents would have talked about it.
Imagine what both my parents have buried. Latvians are very stoic sometimes, and they are people who believe: "You don't dwell on the past, you keep going." But I think that when you deny and repress things they inevitably manifest themselves in different ways and different behaviour forms. Something in my upbringing that meup a lot was that we kids didn't appreciate anything. After reading Amy Tan's book (The Joy Luck Club) you realize that if you come from one culture and you have a child in another part of the world, they cannot conceivably relate. It's very hard for them to relate to where you're mming from, and the only thing that you mn do to bridge the two wodds is to give them elements of your culture and your experience. history, dislocation, exile - what am 1 renegotiating?
It's interesting for me to go back to Latvia because I have not had that much to do with Latvian society here in the last ten years, but still in the back of my mind is that whole notion of what it means to me to come from a culture that is so full of pain, so full of violence, so full of having things taken away, so full of displacement. I do think about how parents go through experiences, they bury them. they a child and then pass something on to the child. And then I think about what did their parents pass on to them, and their grandparents to them. So I'm part of a long chain that I have no clue about. So of coune going back to Latvia - it feels like the place to come to some kind of understanding.
I feel that a lot of Latvians have an inferiority complex, like mazvMbas kompiekss. I myself sense that I've inherited, or I've been born with an inferiority complex, which wasn't helped in my upbringing. I realize now that children incredibly, innately are able to feel what a parent goes through, and that when you are raised with a parent that feels something, on the outside they can be laughing, but on the inside, a child desperately senses something's wrong. I realized in my upbringing that I did have a mother who suffered fmm certain things. She denied herself a lot, sacrificing for others - the female martyr complex - endorsed by cultural socialization of women and Christianity. Understandably I came to absorb these learned traits. So these are inherited things. Or learned. But you learn, you absorb it like a sponge when you are a child.
I think it's a process that just never ends and I'm wondering if you ever come to tens with some of the inherited demons and problems and history that you carry. I guess the goal is to come to terms with the inherited history, Me problems, some of the things that are thrown at you in a very subversive, covert, subconscious way. And some of these things I find you can't even identify or grasp. I am trying to do this through the creative process, and through being in a place where I'm trying to grasp and understand it through emotion. I work a lot with emotion, and feeling, beginning with emotion and feeling through images, through sounds, through words. But when I talk about renegotiating, sometimes I don? even understand what I'm renegotiating, because I'm finding it hard to pin it down. It's too complex for me and there are so many variations that are not tangible to me at all because I don't know them. They're secret, they're buried, they're hidden, they're in somebody else's past, they deal with memory, they deal with a history, a memory, which to me isn't tangible because it's somebody else's. To me it's really, really hard. Renegotiate - for me the whole process is trying to come to some kind of understanding and some kind of peace with it all.
All I know is that I'll come to a doser understanding but, of course, I'll never fully understand it because it's something inherited. All of our families were thrown out of their homes, they were dislocated, that goes way back to our grandfathers and their grandfathers before them and grandmothers, there's always been that dislocation. And again. I feel that that is a part of me in some way. Not only myself, but my girlfriends who come from Polish or German backgrounds, and Eastern European backgrounds. feel an incredible dislocation.
The renegotiation is always in motion and everything is in layers. I don't even look at time as being linear. I can? see things being linear. I see my existence and my life being affected by things that lag behind in time, or are already in the Mure. I am trying to understand. These are big existential questions. I'm trying to understand the whole notion of history and going beyond myself and what influences me and how I deal with it in this life. One element in my work is to celebrate human life, to celebrate aspiration. stnrggle, to celebrate the creative spirit, to celebrate defiance, passion, to celebrate humanness. I think there's something wonderful about our humanness. I think I'm trying to break the cycle, or not even by consciously trying, but I'm redly working with notions of anger, notions of hate. I feel that I am developing a passion and an understanding for people, and it goes back to the self. I'm really trying to learn to understand how to love myself, understanding that to harm yourself you're really doing harm to the rest of the world. It's just such a negative, fruitless exerase, and yet we all do it. These are the things I'm working on and I do feel I'm bma!dng some kind of a cyde. working through images For me it's working through images and it's coming to a peace with myself with that. But certainly being in Latvia, I feel a part of some kind of collective history that I'm not always happy about, and that I'm trying to break some kind of pattern in a chain, and it's not easy. I'm in the middle of process. I haven't really figured out what all of this means for me. I'm in the middle you know, it's still a little chaotic mess inside of me.
I have to work through and talk about how, after having spent about six and a half months in Latvia, there have been major changes that have gone on inside me. I've had major questions thrown at me through the process of doing my visual work: questions about identity, questions about home, questions about freedom. Essentially this work is posing all the questions that we need to pose for ourselves. I've seen a lot of things. Working on an intensely personal level, when you enter other people's lives, they enter back into yours. When you're working really hard you don't always have the time to process it all. So now I've come back, and I know there are major shifts that have gone on inside me, but I don? really know what they are. About a year ago, when we last spoke, I would look at the whole Latvian thing, look at people in Latvia, look at their lives and have a bit of a preconceived notion, with a bit of elitism coming from the West. And I think, above all, that what being in Latvia this time gave me was more of a compassion and a bit more understanding about people. And I think what the whole experience gave me above all was a real love for the human. It's still coming from a position of comfort, but at the same time I felt a real love and compassion for people.
When I was in Latvia this last time, I did not feel Latvian and I did not feel Canadian. I feel very much not exiled, but very much. displaced. And maybe I feel that I did not feel Latvian, or I can7 say "I'm a Latvian artist" or a Canadian artist; I very much feel like Valeska now, without any kind of framework, because the moment that I say oh, I'm Latvian, certain boundaries and definitions are imposed on me that I feel do not apply to me; so now more than ever, I feel that I cannot attach myself to any identity: I cannot say that I'm a Latvian-Canadian. I cannot say that I'm Latvian or Canadian; what feels right now is to say I'm Valeska, I'm just Valeska and that's it, that's it. And that came through really strongly. Being there in Latvia this time, Mere were moments when I felt a strong connection there, there is something there, maybe it's something that is very ancestral or past, or it's roots, there's something 'roots" there. The only way that that comes through clear for me is in moments, is in images.
Photography for me is a private, personal form of expression, in contrast to working on a film. In Latvia I photographed windows, I photographed doorways, I photographed stairwells. And I was really working with studying light. I went out at night and I photographed windows, stairwells. I was studying light in terms of what is reveals and what it conceals. What light reveals and what shadows conceal, giving glimpses. I was photographing the domestic, home. I realized that by phctographing windows, it was perhaps a subconscious longing for a notion of home, but forever on the outside. I still feel that about going to Latvia, I will never be accepted there. If this matters to me: I will never be accepted there as a Latvian; for them, over there, I'm always a foreigner. So this time over there I felt like I was outside. I was standing outside the window, I was not quite allowed in. Also, of course, in many situations, I was allowed in. But again, I still felt, many times, like a foreigner, like an outsider, especially in my relationships with people on the streets. I look like a foreigner, I have money, a lot of people there don't have money, I'm screaming "foreigner".
When somebody asks me: what is home?, I think home is a place where you can always be welcome, you are always loved, you can always be yourself and be accepted. In the process of being in Latvia and working on my project in the summer, where at times I felt alienated, I was drawn to go out and photograph windows, doorways. I'm still working with those images - standing on the threshold. I'm going to go into the darkroom and I'm going to work with text, but while I was in Latvia I was always drawn to photographing windows and doonways - like a symbol of my search for home.
All I can say is that somehow by making this visual work and writing, that feels right. It feels grounded, it feels right, so in a sense I feel it is right. I'm doing that, that is my place, right now. Through the creative process to come to some kind of understanding or to ask the questions, that's my place right now. For me home is probably within myself, doing the things I do. Any place I go I create a physical home out of that. When I go to Latvia I fix up my little room and put up my photographs, and that's my home. When I go elsewhere there's my home, so it's a physical space. Home is always changing. Home? Home is friends. Home, again, for me is acceptance and understanding and a love, so it comes down to people and relationships. And again, place in the world, for me it is doing what I'm doing and feeling grounded and that seems to be the right place to be. And where that will be in the future, I have no idea. the journey continues - where is my place?
Very much I still feel marginalized: I feel marginalized as a single woman in this society; I feel marginalized in terms of the explorations I do in my work; I am marginalized in terms of living in Latvia, in the context of living in Latvian society because of what I do, because of my view points and my explorations. I feel marginalized in many respects, but at the same time the change that has gone on in me in the years, I am beginning to feel a real self empowerment in being marginalized, and also I'm beginning to feel that only by coming from a place of exile, coming from a place and being marginalized and being pushed out of societies and out of wodds, can you have the perspective and step back and begin to see society and its absurdity. You can begin to see society in a very different way only by being exiled and going through acute loneliness. Then you can understand things and see things at a bigger, deeper level. I also realize that anyone whose work I respect, who has done great work, has always been exiled. And that it almost feels to me like a precondition for movement, for searching, for journey. I'm not saying that I'm better or smarter or gifted or that I'm coming up with any big answers, but I'm beginning to feel that there is a reason for me being where I am. I think now, that in terms of being rebellious, it's a fight, right now, to be able to self express; it's a fight to do my work, to get my work out It's not about achieving anymore, Ws some kind of inner necessity to get my voice out. I'm marching ahead to get it out because I want to get it out and I feel I have a right to get it out as anyone else in the world has the right to get it out. In spite of all the lovely things that Toronto can offer - like I can heal my body here - I don't feel that I can heal my spirit here. There's too much distraction. The focus of Toronto is not where it's at for me. I am happy to retum because I can heal my body, I can go to my doctors, I can eat well, I can eat healthy food. I can get back into that discipline, but spiritually it's not a very easy place for me to be right now. It's really hard actually. If I were to have a choice of places to live it would not be Toronto anymore. It doesn't evoke a passion in me. I get passion and I get feeling and I get inspired from books and movies and certain individuals I talk to, but as a place it inspires nothing. It doesn't bring anything out of me, it just doesn't. Canada is a good country materialistically. Its very comforting in that respect. I feel I don't need that kind of comfort. Ifs not what I strive for. I'm looking for something else and I can't remain here. That's all I know. I feel inside me Mat I can't stay here. If I was to stay here I would be betraying myself. So thars another relationship I have to Canada, I know that I won't stay here; I have to move on to somewhere else.
Where that somewhere else might be is not clear. Being in Latvia, not just because it's Latvia, but maybe because. looking at it in terms of a place where there's history, and that's visually very stimulating and thought provoking to me, and that just started pulling something out in me; I don't know what it was. Being in Riga, just the quality of the light, the way the shadows fall, the streets, the architecture, feeling the layers of history, the green. the visual images, the powerful women images on buildings, the art deco, the neon at night, the darkness, all of that inspired me a lot. I want more of that. When I was over there I felt a passion. I felt more alive in terms of feeling. I felt a passion. When you're facing extremes, when you're living in a system that has more anarchy, somehow it wakes you up. Life feels more real: I can taste it, feel it, smell it mom.
Coming back to a place where I've spent most of my life, where I have relationships in work and so forth, and where people perceive me a certain way, when I enter back into society and people treat me a certain way and expect a certain reaction, and I've changed, those expectations start to drag me down again; it's like an old poison that's coming in and trying suffocate me a bit and impair me a bit. It's like an alcohol that tries to impair you. And I don? like it. At the moment I can say that I am not very happy in Toronto.
There's something really interesting about being in Latvia because there are so many surprises and changes all the time. I'd really like to learn Russian and spend more time in Eastern Europe. There's something that fascinates me about Eastern Europe. So. Place in the world and home? Changing, always changing. After spending time in Latvia I've realized to never say never to anything. Something may be thrown at me, or something may come my way which may displace me all the way to Australia, or to South America. What's different for me is that I don't have a responsibility to anybody else, I don't have a husband or I don't have a child; the responsibility I have is to myself, to my creative work it's a responsibility to create a piece of work to the best of my abilities: that's where my responsibility lies.
I believe that each of us has a destiny, and I also believe that each of us has a will and each of us can make choices. So. I'm always trying to understand what is destiny and what is joumey; I believe all of us have a joumey. But I think what I'm trying to do is understand what I need to understand, and to know what I need to know, and I always ask help for that. I have to ask for some kind of guidance. In a way I create a joumey in the sense that I'm always trying to feel and I'm always trying to understand and I'm always asking and I'm always seeking and I'm always questioning. What I'm really beginning to understand is that above all, you have to be honest to yourself. postscript
I am living in Latvia again, facing my greatest challenge ever, to create a colossal visual work, that will capture the beauty and poetry of our humanness, with all its painful and wondrous moments. Reading through my interviews - through my recollections, impressions and thoughts - I realize that the perception by which I have judged and reflected varies continually. All I can say is that my joumey continues. I still ask where in this world can you find redemption, happiness, love, home and peace. The questions are many and the answers unfold and reveal themselves in their own time. How important it is to trust that everything happens as it must, for there are lessons to be learned and new wonders to be found, allowing my spirit to discover its power and passion - embracing the world. (June 19. 1996. Riga) Commentary:
The dialogue with Valeska regarding the issues that emerged in her story began informally during the summer of 1992 when we were both in Latvia. Following that we have continued to be in touch. The first interview took place in January 1994. The second interview followed almost a year later in December 1994 after Valeska had spent another extended period of time in Latvia. She also shared written pieces related to the issues that emerged in her narrative. The first draft of her story was completed in December 1995. Valeska had the opportunity to edit and add her postscript during the Spring of 1996 when she was in Latvia again working on her project- Another year later in 1997, the manuscript was revisited and revised. Her own project in Latvia was also in the process of being completed.
Valeska's upbringing, although rich in opportunities for participating in the interesting and positive aspects of growing up in a community in exile, also exposed her to very conservative and prejudiced attitudes both in Latvian and Canadian contexts. She has experienced struggles between herself and her family, and herself and society which have often left her feeling like the outsider or rebel at different times and in a number of situations in her life. The us and them theme appears at several levels and contexts in Valeska's story. Through reflection on and analysis of her own family and community experiences, Valeska has highlighted many aspects of the role and impact of inherited history on every generation, both in the West and in Latvia. Latvia is a window into her own personal history, her roots, and the multigenerational sagas being played out again and again. She finds that renegotiations are ever changing and, therefore, difficult to pin down. Her personal goal is to come to terms with inherited history and its demons, and her medium for exploring, understanding and at some level resolving this, is through her writing and her art. She works through images, words, emotions, feelings. She finds herself continuing to struggle with feelings of marginalization and displacement. Her search is for belonging and for home. Thnwgh her current project in Latvia and her contact with the people she has become more compassionate in her understanding of their struggle, she celebrates the wonder of humanness. She feels more passion in Latvia, and life feels more real there. Life circumstances, place in the world, home, priorities, goals ... are always changing, and Valeska is open to the possibilities that the future may bring. Chapter Eight
A wakening Spirit
//gadsStory
La Loba - Women Who Run with the Wolves
A friend gave me Clarissa Pincola Est6s's book Women Who Run Wth the Wolves. In this book the author delineates an archetype for the first time - a wild woman, the essence of femininity, which seems to be present in the folklore and stories of all kinds of nations. Pinkola Estgs suggests that modem society has suppressed this part of the female psyche. The prototypical story is one from the southern United States. In a desert, in New Mexico, lives an old woman who's usually ugly and smelly, and is ostracized by society. She goes out to collect animal bones (usually a wolf's) and rearranges them in the shape of the animal and sings over them in a cave. Thus, she brings this animal or this spirit back to life who then flies or runs away. The author's prescription for health, as described at the end of her introduction, is to just sit over old bones: to seek them out and sing over them. It struck me that this is, in many of my activities. what I've been doing - seeking out the old bones and in some way singing over them. I've had an interest in folklore, historical clothing and archaeology for a long time, but I've often pushed them aside. It's only recently that IVe started looking at those materials again because my husband has been involved in historical recreationism. I couldn't imagine making something other than medieval Latvian garb as my first piece of serious historical dothing. It has to be that, and I want to make it myself. I want to weave the fabric.
looking back on the trajectory
I have the sense that my life began long before it actually began. There's maybe an element of fate about this. Like the events of the twentieth century had a lot to do with it. I have this feeling that my life didn't begin in the 1960s but at least some time in the 1940s, or even earlier than that. It seems a trajectory that released me in 1961. It's hard because a lot of things have just been buried and not confronted.
I was born in 1961 in Toronto, and my brother was born three years later. Nothing particularly remarkable about that except that maybe the fact that my parents were somewhat older than was the norm at that time - my mother was 37, my father was 45. People tell me my father was always the life of a party, an athlete and a folk dancer, but he died when I was four. My mother did 'dl the typical things that women did in the 50s, and earfy 60s, when they got married they quit their jobs. She was a clerk in an insurance company before that. Wth my father's insurance money she paid off the house, and to stay near home and to be with her kids she decided to become a piano teacher after graduating from the conservatory of music. The fawtty of music would have been a better choice since it would have entitled her to work in the public school system; but I imagine that she felt she did not have the confidence in herself and her English language skills to go that route. It did set us up for a rather impoverished existence, although we lived in a fairly affluent area and had a comfortable house.
So we continued living in a Toronto suburb with my grandparents. My grandfather died in a snow storm several years later. He was a rather amazing character -- fascinated by photography and gadgets of all kinds. In his arcle of friends he was the first person to have a car in Toronto; he would take car loads of people to the beach, Niagara Falls or the Ex [Canadian National Exhibition] and take thousands of pictures. Mostly I remember my grandmother. who looked after us when my mother taught. She died when I was fourteen, and soon after that my aunt moved in to live with us.
We lived in a very WASP area. Everyone knew who the non-Anglo Saxons were: besides us there were several German families, an Estonian family, a Lithuanian family, a black family, and a Chinese family. I remember going to kindergarten and not knowing English. It's only recently that I realized that they must have had me down as a slow learner while I was at that school. I received marginal marks all through public school, although it was a very good school and I received a very good basic education.
I really was sort of an outcast. I had a funny name that no one could pronounce. Although by the end I had them trained (laughing) - my classmates eventually learned to correct the teacher. I can also remember things like wanting to participate in extracurricular activities and sports, and just never having the guts to actually go and sign up. Although I think by grade six I did manage to go and inquire.
I went to a new school for grades seven and eight and I remember the great astonishment when the first report card meand I had A's - this was a quantum leap. I started music for the first time and in the beginning did very well at that. My music teacher sent me off to the Scarborough Youth Orchestra in grade eight saying that although I was very young, I had such potential that I should go. I did, but when I look back, I hindered myself so much and just never actually gave myself a chance. I didn7 practise, and as a result I often felt like an impostor. In high school, I was doing all kinds of things; suddenly there was Latvian choir on Monday night. Latvian folk dancing on Tuesday night orchestra on Wednesday, Thursday night was my only night at home when I came home and just fiopped, and Latvian school on Friday - a never-ending round of frantic activity.
It wasn't because anyone was making me. I wasn't taken to these activities, like other kids were by their parents. My mother didnY really want me to go. and since she worked in the evenings she really couldn't take me to these activities anyway. But. I acti-vely wanted to go. We finally made a deal that when I was old enough to travel on the subway by myself then I could go, and that happened when I was twelve. We had been in Cleveland in 1973 for the centennial song festival. and I was just so overwhelmed by heexperience that I said 'In September I have to go to folkdancing! I have to go!" My mother finally said 'Yes, OK, you can go". But I don't think she ever approved. When the local Latvian political crisis arose in the mid 1970s, there was always a lot of disapproval about the people I was associating with - the 'communist collaboratorsnor something, all of that Eventually she did accept the fact that I really loved to dance, really truly, I lived for it and waited for it all week long. All of this was definitely of my own choice.
The choir was a lot of fun. I only sang with them at one song festival in Toronto. They really had a good thing going because there were a lot of young people and we really had a lot of fun. I liked many of the songs that we sang. One thing that comes to mind right now is just the sense of purpose it bestowed: there was definitely something about being part of such a group. I think given the fact that I was not really much part of any group, Latvian or Canadian; I was probably being driven to want to be part of something.
I think I must have liked the fact that I had definite places to go because I rarely missed any folk dancing or choir practices. In Latvian high school when I was in the drama club I never missed a practice. I just wanted to be there.
Like everyone else, I didn't like Latvian school itself very much, but it really never entered my mind not to go. I wanted to go to the Latvian high school in Muenster, Germany very, very badly. I took German in school so that I would have some basic language skills. One year German conflicted with my music dass and I chose German. I really wanted to go, since three or four of my Latvian school classmates had already gone. Although realistically my mother didn't have the money for it, she wasnlt interested in considering other options because it meant that I would be in a hot bed of Kcommunistsn.She wasn't about to send me there. I remember being very disappointed and not understanding why she was so disapproving. That was probably a factor in why I went off to Muenster in 1985 - to catch up on something that I missed. My mother also never let me go to 2x2. It was also, in her opinion, a very suspicious thing. I envied anyone who got to go. I never went to a 2x2 until I helped organize one in Germany in 1987.
I started university in the fall of 1979.1 now regret that I didn't pay attention to what I had been good at in high school. My mother wanted a daughter who was a doctor, and I had convinced myself that that was a good path to follow. Well I got my Bachelor of Science in 1984. Just barely. I had temble marks. I think I never stopped hindering myself. The low marks were the result of procrastination, and some temble dynamic that took over whenever I had to write an essay. Although I learned a great deal and did the work, my marks suffered because I left things to the last minute and often handed in my work late. Some of it was, I am sure, a fear of failure. And I came out of it thinking that I couldn't get a job with marks like this. I got one A- in anthropology. That was also a message that I didn't listen to. political awakening - a stepping stone
A pivotal point came in the fall of 1980.1 remember being called up by a prominent member of LNAK (Latvian National Association in Canada). They were looking for young people to go to Madrid, Spain to demonstrate at an international conference. There were the approved LNAK people of whom I was one of five and then tfmeothers who were all on the LNJAK (Latvian National Youth Association in Canada) executive. The latter three were being supported by Daugavas Vanagi (Latvian Relief Society) money to go to Madrid.
That was an astonishingly uplifting experience, and was very well organized. There were 30 Latvian young people from around the world. It was like a youth festival. Emotions and camaraderie ran sky high. It gave us the sense that we could really achieve something for the benefit of Latvia. A Latvian pastor from the United States protested Latvia's occupation by spilling his blood on the Soviet flag, which put him on the front cover of Time Magazine. I met people from Europe. It was the experience of a lifetime, never to be forgotten.
After Madrid, I ran for the LNJAK executive and I got a lot of encouragement to do things the "right way", the way they should be done. I found that once I got there it didn't really matter (laughing). This was all new for me because I hadn't been very aware of what LNJAK was all about before going to Spain.
It seems that the Madrid business prevented many of us from getting into Latvia for years and yean. I was denied a visa seven times. I didn't get one until December of 1989.1 was even denied a visa as late as September of 1989, during the era of glasnost. Apparently Dzimtenw Bdss (a newspaper devoted to anti-exile propaganda in Latvia at the time) had been full of reports of how those people who had caused trouble in Madrid would never be allowed into Latvia. But by the time I first applied, I no longer knew what the problem was because I was doing and "guilty" of so many things: I had served as president of the Latvian National Youth Association in Canada (LNJAK) and was involved in a bmad range of activities in the Latvian community, and in a not very healthy fashion.
I had become a political activist. I remember a very real feeling that this was just something I had to do, and it was like my sacred responsibility -- it seemed like no one else was doing it. I acquired a liking for involvement in unpopular causes. In the 1980s in our community it was politics. Now politics is really popular, and education and culture are out of fashion (laughing). Yep. When I was a child I really didn't like being an outcast. Now I think I've acquired a taste for it. Maybe I don't even like being accepted any more.
This was also the time of several social-political conflicts in the Toronto Latvian community. There was the creation of an alternative elementary school Valodiga the buying of the Latvian Canadian Cultural Centre; and the highly loaded issue of "kultiirassakarf' - whether or not the exile community should have any contact with Latvia and it's culture. There were very, very well etched lines of who was on which side, and people became very entrenched in their positions. I remember trying to stay outside of it. I didn't lump all the issues together. 1 thought the school issue was different than the building issue which was different from the "ku!tDras sakant' question. I thought it was pretty obvious that for people who were educated in the West, a school that didn't teach in the style of the 1930s was probably a desirable thing. They should not have been blamed for wanting an alternative school. The only thing I remember my mother saying about the school issue was that ?hey want to teach Latvian as if it were a foreign language; my children dont need it, it should be taught as a native language". I think that's what they identified as the dividing issue. In reality I think it all became a clash of personalities, and maybe an intergenerational conflict I spent a lot of time going back and forth between one side and the other because I was exposed to different views and in the end I didn't know what to think of it all.
There was certainly at least a certain degree of neurosis in all of this. Probably because I was out and about, and going to all kinds of events and functions I met these people with differing viewpoints, as opposed to those who sat around entrenched in their opinions at home (laughing). I remember trying to be neutral, not saying anything to anybody, but it just got to be too hard, much too hard. The year after I graduated I had the opportunity to go to Germany to the Latvian Social Sciences Institute in Muenster. It was a new program for university students affiliated with the high school but separate from it I had been thinking about going to the University of Western Michigan to study in the Manprogram, but at the time I wanted more grounding in history, politics, social saences, and it seemed like that would do it. So I went off to Germany. But the program was weak and not adequately funded. I spent my first three months very conscientiously attending lectures. I was totally put out by my dass mates who were not into learning, but were there to party and take a year off from their lives.
Nobody really knew me, and I think that even the other people from Toronto didn't really know me either. But, they pretty soon identified me as being someone - I don't know what they thought - really square, boring, tedious, something just not very mol. I felt like a really large minority of one. again.
However, I really hit it off with people who were teachers at the school. They were a group of young people who, in the late seventies, had taken over when the older teachers, who had been teaching at the school since it opened in 1946, retired. These were all very bright people. There was a constant exchange of ideas and lively discussion on many topics induding Latvian culture and contemporary events. They were very open minded and excited about teaching, and they werenY doing things out of duty. They had a wonderful sense of what being Latvian meant. It was exhilarating. I found it tremendously exating because they were older and wiser than I was but they still accepted me. After being there three months, I was hired as an interim teacher for the second term.
At the same time I also started making ethnographic Latvian jewelry with Juris Klavins. I spent every evening I could in the workshop and that was a wonderful education in itself. He's a master silversmith. who knows a great deal about Latvian archaeology, folklore and pagan traditions. He is also a master story and joke teller with a great sense of humour.
I enjoyed being in Muenster tremendously. I enjoyed meeting people and talking and singing in the pubs at night and at my friends' apartments. I felt that my former classmates were missing a rare opportunity, and wasting the community's money. There was a lot to be experienced in Muenster. Even though people were already saying it was not the place it had been in the 1970s, there were still a multitude of interesting viewpoints and opportunities for discussion and leaming. Toronto was such a closed, closed club in comparison. If you had dissenting opinions you could easily be labeled a communist or God knows what. It was in Germany that I got an outsidets view of the Toronto Latvian community as a really weird and nasty place. re-creation - seeking out old bones
When I returned to Toronto from Muenster I took some courses at the University of Toronto. The insightful wok of psychologist and folklole researcher Dr. Vaira Vikis-Freibergs had aroused my interest in psychology. So Itook Psych 100 and did very well, much to my surprise. I continued taking more psychology courses, registered for a major, and began thinking about the possibility of graduate school. I wondered how I would overcome the legacy of those bad marks.
I'm definitely interested in what shapes people's perception of the world and how they organize reality. I'm also not quite sure what my fascination with folklore is, whether it's introspection into Latvian identity or whether I'm legitimately looking at it as an object of study, but there's something about it that fascinates me and it's not just Latvian folklore. I took a Finnish literature course about Finnish short stones; it was very interesting because the development of literature through the 19th century in many ways paralleled the development of Latvian literature. I also took a Finnish folklore course that was absolutely fascinating, and it reinforced the idea that I wanted to further study folklore.
When I went back to school in September 1992 1 was definitely in search mode, looking for something new, something that was going to capture my interests - to follow my bliss - as Joseph Campbell put it. Probably the major changes in my life came about through a medieval play in which I took part in November 1992. While standing in line in the book store I saw a hand written note on the wall, and it said "looking for actors, players of andent instruments and people with good voices, if interested call Kim". Apparently it was the only poster up at the time, and was in a rather obscure place. I wondered if they'd be interested in my 'koWe' seeing that it's not really mainstream European. On the other hand, there was the psaltery which is a similar string instrument and was very common in the middle ages. The director of the play was very happy. The play was an early version of the Robin Hood story, about Robin the knight and Mary a shepherdess. It had a fair bit of singing in it, and my role was to accompany the singing. My 'koW worked quite well.
The play itself was put on by a drama society that regularly put on medieval plays. I was thinking at the time that I'd be curious to see what had been going on in the rest of Europe in the middle ages, and it lead me to a very interesting group of people. Many of these people were also involved in historical recreationism. Historical recreationists attempt to actually re-create the middle ages, and people do research on the peliods and places that interest them. They create historical clothing or garb for themselves, make instruments or weapons, have feasts, perform music, put on plays, and in a limited kind of a sphere try to live the best of the middle ages. I remember some of the people remarking about my Latvian rings that I made the previous summer at 3x3. They said "you made this jewelry? You must be in the SCA" (Society for Creative Anachronism), but t had never even heard of it.
It strikes me now that the Lahian community in many ways has the same hallmarks as this group; there's a lot of re-creationism. let's call it that Or maybe it's just living in the past The SCA goes further because people do it consciously, constructivefy and with a sense of joy. The SCA has also lead me to question what we know about the middle ages in Latvia. The SCA gave me the opportunity to go gung-ho as far as I want in my imagination in being Latvian. I'm thinking of creating an 11 th century Latvian and making the garb. It's something I've thought about for a while because it%so magnificent. but it's such a large amount of work that it never seemed realistic. But there's also no need to make the grandest version. It makes me sad though that there seems to be less and less oppoltunity to wear the ethnic garb in the Latvian community these days. I always get a very special feeling when I do wear it, especially when it's new (laughing) - my present one is quite worn now. It probably is time for a new one. meeting a fellow spirit
I first met my future husband at an SCA meeting. He was telling somebody that he wanted to go to Ottawa to check out the Museum of Science and Technology for a thesis topic. and I was going to go visit a friend. I thought it would be great to have someone to drive up with, and I expected that we would split up when we got there. But it didn't happen that way.
We left on a Friday night. I would never have gone on a Friday night by myself, but he said he doesn't mind driving at night, so we left some time around 9:00 p.m. It was quite an epic journey (laughing) because about half way to Ottawa a blinard happened -- the trip took two hours longer than normal. He had wonderful music on tape - medieval and folk music. It was just terrific. It was like that from the very first moment he set foot in my car - it was as if everything was just fine. Just perfect. It tumed out that the friend he wanted to meet in Ottawa had left town the day before so he didn't get to see him, and so he also stayed with me and my friends in this one room apartment.
We were, I guess, much taken with each other, although we didn't figure it out ourselves - my friends saw it before we did. At the time I wasn't thinking anything, not expecting anything; vaguely thinking "oh, how nicen. On the following Tuesday, you know what - looking back this is absolutely absurd, but it was just like this was going to be permanent. We were going to keep it quiet, but ten days later we announced our engagement, we couldnY keep it to ourselves any more. It was just like that. It took about a month and then we seriously started talking about moving in together, doing all those kinds of things, and whether we should get married this summer or wait until next summer. I sort of had this feeling like Why wait until next summefl".
I think somewhere between four and six weeks later I started realizing: oh boy, all these big plans that I had for my life are sort of on hold. I had been planning to go off to Latvia within two or three years to try it out for a couple of years. I went through a phase, though it's not quite as strong now, when I definitely became aware that my identity was being threatened. I wasn't even that upset over the fact that I wouldn't be as free to pick up and go wherever I want to go. I had been thinking about going to graduate school to Newfoundland or to Indiana or someplace else to study folklore. The fact that it's no longer that simple doesn't even bother me so much now. The fact was that I had envisioned a vague future, at least on a semi-permanent basis, in Latvia and it started to look like it wasn't going to happen.
This thinking was flawed. 1 realize now that it was not an ei#er/or choice - to be Latvian or not. My husband is so very interested in the LaMan community, culture and folklore that he says he's quite willing to go off to Latvia for a couple years too. which was the only commitment that I was making to myself. He's quite willing to do that. so there really is no conflict, but I had constructed a conflict in my head. For a while I found this quite disturbing. where is my place?
I once saw a book in the library written by a schizophrenic, and I think the title is Oh God is There no Place on Earth for Me. But the title really speaks to me as well - where is my place, it's not over here and it's not over there, where on earth is it?
Part of me envisioning myself in Latvia in a few years was that there was no room for a picture of myself staying here. I haven't liked what I've seen here in the Latvian community for quite a few years. It's quite obvious that we're a community in decline. I know I can look at this in two ways: I can say (like many others do) "oh well, you know fifty years, we've done really well in fifty years, what more can you expect?". Intellectually I can say that very calmly, but when I have to think of that in tens of myself, my childhood, my teachers and people I've known, and some of whom I have a great deal of affedon for, the feeling that it's just slipping away is devastating. I suspect that if we do pack up and go to Latvia, if this feeling of loss of community doesn't somehow get resolved, it will interfere with me continuing my life elsewhere. I certainly think that there is a need to come to terms with it, that this is happening.
One way to look at it is that the community is just something that is withering away and that I'm outgrowing it. It's like having mentors and outgrow'ng them; they get old and they lose their powers. It's really tough. There's a need to release, but I'm not sure what I have to release, and I think I'm afraid that I might have to release things that are an integral part of myself. Part of this is simply going away, Ws going to go away whether I let it or not. In one sense it's some core part of me that defines who I am. It feels like a part of me might go away and never come back Ike been aware that community activities have been dying out for quite a while. A couple of years ago I made some very definite choices not to get involved with the kinds of things I was doing before Iwent to Genany. I chose instead to work at the school because that seemed one of the few objectively worthwhile things to do. It seemed worthwhile trying to reform and maintain the community school if that could be done.
There's also a sense that we're not really that desirable in Latvia, which is a message that's been filtering over for a while now. They keep saying "Oh you can't be real Latvians if you lived over here [in Canada]." I respond by saying that's not true, and that it is up to me to define who I am. But in the end, there's the sense that maybe they're right, but I didn't much like it- I really detested the fact that somebody else is defining what I may or may not be. The question of how I identify myself, however, is my choice. I have a choice of where I live, or I thought I did. But because the community here is dying out and in a few years there won't be anything left I want to leave. But the question remains whether there is a place for "usnin Latvia? There are people who are very welcoming in Latvia, especially those involved in folk culture. Because I've been developing such an intense interest in folklore I thought that. if I'm going to do it as more than just a hobby, then that would be the place to be.
For the first time this year I received marks in the 90s. I got one essay back - the professor was just so profuse with his compliments that I was embarrassed. I've never seen anything like that. At the end of the essay he had written: "I hope you are considering graduate school, you should be in graduate school, you are a scholar". My husband is also impressed with my level of knowledge of folklore. But I still don't really have a dear picture of myself in the future.
If I succeeded in all of this it would be one way of amalgamating the Canadian and Latvian sides of my personality, which until very recently were very split, separate, and alienated, entirely different existences within the community and outside of it. I can see these possibilities for growth, but it's still so hard to actually take hold of them. postscript
Five years later I still struggle with the procrastination demon. But I am doing better because I am aware of it I can engage it in dialogue and the school work gets done. I hope that I will be accepted into graduate school, and that my recent work will make up for the legacy from the past.
In five years my husband has learned quite a lot of Latvian, but he is less enthusiastic about my community activities. He sees them as a dr'n on my time and my energy, offering little in return. We went to Latvia last summer and found, to my surprise, that we were not well received. My old friends were very good to us, but it was virtually impossible to get past the "foreigner" label and get acquainted with new people. Not only was my husband perceived as a foreigner, but I was seen by some as a 'horrible exile-womann ('rieb@a' trimdiniece") For the first ti me ever, I returned from a visit in Latvia feeling like a deflated balloon. Still, at one level, I was unwilling to accept the fact that I might never fit in there. The feeling was one of being set adrift.
I know Mat I've become quite cynical, but I also know that I shouldn't give in to it. I feel that I must continue to attempt to make sense of it. The challenge is to remain positive and optimistic, and make the best of the situation as it unfolds. (March 4. 1998. Toronto) Commentary:
Ilga's story was told over a period of four and a half years. The first interviews took place during the summer of 1993, and then we reconnected for a fourth interview during the spring of 1994. We continued to be in touch. Ilga's story began to emerge during the summer of 1994, and the first draft was completed during the fall of 1995. The draft was revisited during the summer of 1997. In February and March 1998 llga was able to add matshe needed to say and to bring her story up to date with the on-going changes in her life.
llga described the legend of Laloba as encapsulating and reflecting her inner drive to seek out the old bones of her Latvian culture, roots, folklore, history, heritage. Like La Loba, she too has experienced feelings of marginalization. Hers has been a personaJ quest to seek ways in which to participate and belong in the Latvian communities, and to explore, understand, and share its treasures with others. This has emerged with little support from her family as well as criticism from others in the community. She has found herself in the role of pursuing and supporting 'unpopulaf causes in the Latvian community in exile at the time of her involvement - pditiml activism in the 1980s. and more recently, education and culture. Ilga's story illustrates the ideological struggles and conflicts in both her family and the community contexts. Her penonal struggles have centered around determining her path in life, and finding her place, where she belongs: Canada? Latvia?. In recent years she has found more supportive environments for self- expression in her participation in the Society for Creative Anachronism and in her academic pursuits of folklore, both of which validate her interests and knowledge. Her husband, atthough not of Latvian origin, is highly supportive of her commitment to and work in the Latvian communities both in Canada and Latvia, as well as, her academic interests. The identity crisis that she experienced at the time of her mamage has become tempered with the living of life and the opportunities to continue to pursue and to share what is important and meaningful to her. Encompassing all these interests into her life in a meaningful way has allowed her to redaim LaLoba. Chapter Nine
Negotiating A Thesis; Renegotiating Identity
Uze's Story metaphor: navigating, negotiating, renegotiating ...
The first image is that of a river. The river is wide and ever-changing. In some parts the water is quite calm and easy to navigate. In others, there are dangerous rapids and other obstacles. In places it is just fast moving, while in others it seems stagnant. Periodically, the river is altered and filled by adjoining streams, creeks, other rivers, downpours, and unfortunately, even pollution from its surroundings. There are inconsistencies in the depth of the river: some areas are very deep, some are just right, while others may be too shallow. This also depends on the kind of vessel being travelled in.
There are many different kinds of vessels navigating this river. The first image was of myself on a raft made from strong logs which seem to be put together well. I am navigating my raft down the river using a long pole to guide my way. I am moving at a safe. cautious rate. Despite the, at times, tricky waters, I seem to be doing all right.
As I travel down the river, I seem to have the opportunity to see what is happening around me. Sometimes what I see are brief flashes, images, insights. At times, when circumstances allow it, I can observe my surroundings in quite a lot of detail and even be a witness to processes. Sometimes I can understand how those around me feet, because we seem to be sharing the same kind of experience. I seem to miss things when I'm in the middle of a difficult maneuver, but sometimes I might be surplised by what I did get after all. When I'm in calmer water, I can sometimes see how those around me are doing who are navigating a different part of the river. There are times when I feel very much on my own, while at others I am definitely part of a river convoy.
I see an entire spectrum of possibilities. People are travelling in many different kinds of vessels and with seemingly different approaches to the journey. There are canoes, row boats. fishing boats, sail boats, motor boats, kayaks, other rafts, ski boats with water skiers, ferries, and even luxury cruise ships. It all depends on what part of the river I am on. negotiating a thesis
The opening metaphor for my story emerged during a drive to meet with my thesis supeMsor Ardra Cole in the beginning of February 1993. 1 was just bringing into focus my proposal for the current study. The metaphor encapsulated many aspects of navigating ethnic identity, in the changing post Latvia's independence times, as well as the thesis journey. Although a personally meaningful and powerful visual image, hemetaphoh rightful place in my own story only became clear this summer, as I embarked on this last leg of my thesis journey.
The current version of my thesis journey began more than four years ago. At times it felt like I was almost done, that the end was within reach, at other times the magnitude of what still needed to be done felt overwhelming, and it was easier to tend to the rest of my life instead, leaving the thesis work on a back burner, quietly, though persistently simmering. And although it did not always seem that way at the time, creative back burner simmering was usually part of what was happening during my "absence" from active thesis work. Each "absence" allowed new perspectives to emerge, and offered the clarity gained from distance to reevaluate and redirect the work.
Over the years, several versions emerged of my story. It has taken a great deal of time, reflecting, listening, searching to allow what my story needed to say to evolve.
Through all of this, life lives on -- births, losses, moves, changes, discoveries, growth.
In Februaly I am expecting my second child, and I feel that it is time to let go and move on. Its now or never, and I've invested too much personally for it to become "never".
My relationship with this work has been enmeshed with changes in my own life at many levels, and this has made it both more meaningful, but also extremely challenging and difficult. It has made me feel extremely vulnerable at times, and has contributed to the need to distance myself from my work, the thesis avoidance periods -- the plateaus between the spurts of insight taking my raft over troubled waters around the next bend of the river. growing up in a Latvian family
I had Me good fortune of being born into a family of progressively thinking parents who have always been highly involved in the Latvian community, both as leaders and as participants. From them I have learned that it is okay to challenge the status quo, even though it does not lead to the path of least resistance. Growing up in my family, I have experienced both the excitement of being the child of parents who often took on an innovator rde in the Latvlhn community as well as the frustration, pain, and anger at observing how the community could ostracize those who dared to challenge the status quo, those who wanted to try something new or diierent
Although my parents were bom in Riga, they left Latvia as children with their parents during W.W.1 I. They arrived in Canada in 195 1, and have been very involved in the Latvian community in Toronto and abroad since before I was born. I spent the first twenty-five years of my life, beginning from very early childhood, also being highly enmeshed in the Latvian community in Toronto, where I was born and where i grew up.
I began dancing in the Toronto folkdance gmup ~gdanc7tiswhen I was three years old. I continued with Lielais Di'dancZs, and ~3ddanasuntil I was twenty-five. This has been quite an important activity because my father has been the director and choreographer of these dance groups for the past thirty years. My involvement with the dance groups opened an entire world of experiences for me. It was also an important socialization opportunity since it was a place to be with friends on a weekly basis. We travelled through much of North America performing at Latvian Song Festivals, and to other events in many cities across the continent. Some events we participated in annually, such as Caravan in Toronto and the Pittsburgh Folk Festival. Friendships and connections were always forming and being renewed. In the 1980s ~gdandsalso participated in Song Festivals in Europe, although I chose not to go, spending time independently from my family, working in the Latvian summer camp or other jobs in Canada. In the summer of 1990, however, we. along with other Western Latvian dance groups and choirs, were invited to participate at the Song Festival in Riga, Latvia. I was able to take part in this historical event. This was the first time since the Independence years that Latvians worldwide could once again join together in a truly Latvian Song Festival in the homeland, a festival where the program and participants were not censored by the Soviet regime. It was a highly emotional, unforgettable event.
From grade one to grade eight I attended Latvian Saturday school, where both my grandmothers taught. When I was in grade eight, my mother along with some of our friends became the co-founder of the Latvian alternative school Valodipa, which was held on Friday nights not to conflict with the Saturday school. I joined Valodiqa and graduated from both schools, and then went on to the high school ZirnnEzija for two years. I later taught at the Latvian school Valodipa for six years.
At different points in my life I was also involved with a whole array of other Latvian activities which kept me busy after school hours, on weekends, and in the summers. I attended Latvian Brownies; sang in several different choirs; learned to play the Latvian instrument the kuMc participated in various theater pmducti-ons; attended summer camps, and many different kinds of workshops, youth congresses, and seminars; I was a camp counsellor at our church camp for four summers; played volleyball on a Latvian volleybdl team; sewed on the Latvian National Youth Association in Canada executive; participated in demonstrations, rallies, and other politically oriented events; attended cultural and artistic events.
Lawan language and traditions were not limited to family, school and organized community activities. Close friendships with Latvian families brought us together at our neighbouring summer cottages where parents organized mini camp programs for the kids. We also went on trips to other Latvian centres to participate in children's activities.
There wasn't much choice for me in the matter of whether to be involved in the Latvian community but there was a lot of choice in terms of how to be involved. I wasn't complaining much about the opportunities. Being Latvian and speaking Latvian has always been an integral part of who I am. It has also been an integral part of my family life. There was a time when I found it very difficult to express myself in English in my family home, because I associated home with- speaking Latvian. As a child I also found it awkward to have to speak English to my parents in public places. Latvian was our family language.
Thus, I grew up spending most of my free time with Latvian friends in Latvian activities. I remember feeling that my Canadian friends at school could never really know me because they didn't know the Latvian part of who I was. In my youth, my personal identity was very closely connected to being Latvian and I did not question it.
Within the family, both with my parents and grandparents, being Latvian was a positive experience. It gave us a special connection that I felt was missing from my relationships with my non-Latvian speaking relatives. It was hard to introduce all of me to my non-Latvian friends and acquaintances because I felt there were always the parts of who I was that they could never understand or relate to. When I was growing up I remember wondering what my parents had done "right", why my brother and sister and I felt comfortable speaking Latvian among ourselves. This was not always so in other families. Why did we feel so comfortable being Latvian?
Latvian was our language of communication at home, with my parents, siblings and with some of my friends even when we were in the non-Latvian speaking world. We hardly ever spoke English, except when we began to lack more complicated and technical vocabulary in Latvian. This happened more as we grew older. We also used English phrases while speaking Latvian, such as "well," "OK" and "you know". Now that we have more frequent and longer contacts with people from Latvia, we have become more aware about how our language has been transformed by our host languages, be they English, Russian, German, French, Swedish, Spanish. We find that although we have been using Latvian words, the language we speak with each other contains many English influences (vocabulary, intonation, idiomatic expressions and phrases, even sentence structure). At other times, although we use the same words, we understand those words very differently from how they are used and understood in Latvia Thus, language usage and language retention became a topic of interest for me which I explored further through my own Latvian education, and later as a teacher at Vaiodiqa, and more formally in my Master's of Arts thesis. For a while 1 had planned on pursuing this topic for my doctoral dissertation.
My experiences of being Latvian with family and family friends was usually positive. My parents and their friends lived in the present and planned for the future of the Latvian community. Our involvement in being Latvian was very real and meaningful. It meant Mat we travelled and had friends all over the world. We also had many interesting visitors who came to stay with us, such as musicians, actors, writers, artists, politicians, educators, folkforists. This also meant giving up our beds and sleeping on the couch for the duration of their stay, which sometimes felt disruptive. We had our own language that allowed us to communicate amongst ourselves and with Latvians from non-English speaking countries. We had a rich cultural background; a wealth of songs, dances and folklore; interesting folk costumes (the disadvantage being that they were made of wool and thus very hot); beautiful traditional jewelry: lifelong friends and connections; and a large selection of functions and activities (cultural, political, religious and social) to attend. I felt like I naturally belonged when I was with Latvians.
Family, friends, belonging, continuity, grounding, roots, history, culture, dancing, singing, dainas (Latvian folksongs), folklore, spiritual, connection, freedom, opportunity, travel, organization, experience, meaning, educated, informed, scope, focus are words that come to mind when I think of the Latvian part of my life, of who I am. There are other words as well, such as confiict, frustration, undermining, traditional, conservative, prejudiced, stagnant, opinionated, cliquish, excluding, limited. reactionary, patriarchal, rejecting, chawinistic, rude, alcoholic, obnoxious, degrading that also come to mind when I explore and reflect on my observations, experiences and memories of people and communities. There is a dichotomy in my experiences of my ethnicity and my Latvian community with both many positives and many negatives associated with them.
Even though there were always things to be involved in, when I was at University I began to feel depleted. The drawback to this fury of activity was that once you were involved, the community expected you to be involved in everything. It was difficult to say "no". In fact, for many years I felt powerless to even shape the word "No!" on my lips, I always said "yes", although at times reluctantly. I began to feel overwhelmed. It was hard to manage the demands of my personal life, university, and the needs of the community. Gradually I began dropping out of commitments. It was very difficult, I felt guilty but I had gotten to the point where I realized that I had to take care of myself and my future now, so that I would have something to contribute to the community later. encounters with Latvia - the homeland
My encounters with Latvia have been very powerful. I have visited Latvia on five different occasions, and have had the opportunity to experience the contrasts of very different political times. My first trips to Latvia were during the Brezhnev era (May 1978 and June 1982). 1 returned to a very different glasnost-era-Wia eight years later, in June 1990, when I spent two months there. A year later, in October 1991, 1 spent two weeks in the newly independent Latvia following the coup that had taken place in August. My most recent visit was during the summer of 1992, when I spent five weeks there with my husband, who was working on a feature film.
A friend of mine summarized the experiences of visiting Latvia well. The first time you go to the "place", the second time you return to visit the "people", and after that you need to have a purpose for going.
Before I went to Latvia it was like a fairy tale that a lot of people talked about. It was a place that no longer was. It was a perfect place before it was occupied and destroyed. I, along with many of my classmates, began to question the truth of the tales about what the "homeland" had been like during the independence years. Most of the older teachers in Latvian school seemed to have a very limited view of the world and its history. The information they presented was perceived by the young people as boring, slanted, and exaggerated, in other words, not to be taken too seriously.
Much to my own surprise, my first trip to Latvia was very emotional. It was in 1978. 1 was thirteen years old. My mother and I made this trip together. She was on sabbatical interviewing Latvians in Europe and met me in Helsinki. This was the first time that anyone from my immediate family had gone/retumed to Latvia. We were also among the first from our extended group of Latvian friends. Politically, in our Latvian community in the West, going to LaOlia was still frowned upon.
Those who had ventured back in the late 1960s and early 1970s were viewed with suspicion and even considered to be communist supporters by the conservative wing of the Latvian community and some were expelled from office in Latvian organizations. The official policy of Latvian organizations in the West was that there should be no contact Many families had been separated during and following the Second World War. People took the bare essentials when they left Latvia. The expectation that they would return to Latvia within the next five years quickly faded. They were now refugees in exile in the free world. As the regime persisted, people gave up hope of ever redaiming their homeland. To us it seemed that wanting to reconnect with the fatherland, tzvzeme, and birthplace, dzimtene, and to find lost family. friends, and homes was a natural step, but this was not so for others. There was too much pain, guilt, loss.
I have a large extended family here in Canada and in the United States but there is also a very large part of the extended family that remained in Latvia - my paternal grandparents' siblings and cousins. and heir offspring. My father's parents both came from very large families. I remember being at my grandmotheh house as a child, and for the first time becoming aware Mat there was a letter from Latvia. At that point I didn't realize that we had family in Latvia - the family I knew was the family that I lived with or I met with or saw here. It was a bizarre experience to be confronted with this reality because of the letter. I don't think that I ever read the letter. I can't remember if I was too young to read it or I just couldn't read it all that well because the handwriting was difficult to read. I do remember the awareness that emerged as a result of the letter that there is a connection to a "realn Latvia, a world other than what was talked about at Latvian school as an idealized place that had brown cows that gave the best milk and produced the best butter in Europe and with wonderful farms - a great place that was taken away. I remember vividly that for me as a young child that letter symbolized hefact that there was a connection to a place I didnY know.
In the 1960s my paternal grandmother and grandfather began to correspond with their relatives in Latvia. They sometimes told us things about people we had never met or seen a picture of. My parents and grandparents seemed to live in the present and pian for the future. They rarely reminisced and shared any memories about Latvia with us. My parents were young when they left Latvia, and their memories were more from their transition years in Germany and Belgium before settling in Toronto.
On our first visits to Latvia, we were only able to come as tourists on short seven to fourteen day organized tours. Visas had to be applied for through Moscow. and were not guaranteed to be issued. Often people received their visas only a few days before departure. The only official tourist accommodation was in one of the two, at that time, international hotels in Riga. We were monitored by our tour guides, and we were restricted to a fifty kilometres radius around Riga. Many friends and relatives were afraid to come to the hotels because having relatives abroad and having contact with them was regarded unfavourably by the government officials. Relatives feared, and some in fact were, interrogated afterwards about these contacts. We also had to be careful because there were listening devices in the hotel rooms, and the KGB monitored and followed tourists and sent them back to the West if they were found outside the boundaries where tourists were permitted to go in Latvia.
Upon entering the border into Soviet territory, after crossing the Baltic Sea by ferry from Helsinki into Tallinn, many of us, myself included, were subjected to invasive and rude customs checks. Despite these difficulties my first visit to Latvia was ovenvhelmingly positive. I felt a real connection to my taota, my people. I formed some very intensive connections with both family and acquaintances in the less than two weeks that I was there. I found it difficult to express how meaningful it was for me to be with my people, and to actually be in the special places that I had only heard about, such as, BrTvibas pieminem the Freedom monument and the Gauja river which is mentioned in many folk songs. When I talked with my peers there, I shared my knowledge and understanding of history and the occupation of Latvia. I was often surprised about how limited their knowledge was or pehaps how reluctantly they admitted knowing anything about it. I did not want to leave when our tour ended. I swore that I would return in a year, two at the latest. I promised I would write. When I returned home I felt much more connected to being Latvian. I felt great pride about my ability to speak Latvian. The value of being able to speak Latvian well. had allowed me to experience this intensive connection with Latvia. I think that already then Latvia began to feel like my second home.
1 returned to Latvia in the summer of 1982 with the hope of attending my third cousin's wedding outside of Riga. My parents gave me the trip as a confirmation and grade thirteen graduation present. It was the first time that I travelled to Europe on my own, and that was exciting. My tour included Leningrad and Moscow. I enjoyed Leningrad, and wished that I could have by-passed Moscow and spent more time in Latvia instead. Upon returning to Latvia, I did indeed retum to "my people". I reconnected with many of my friends from my previous visit. In many ways the trip was far from ideal. Even though I was able to visit with my cousin, I was not given permission to attend her wedding, and furthermore. the weather was cold and it rained almost the entire time, and I did not have appropriate shoes and clothes for the weather and could not buy any there. In spite of these disappointments, I once again fell in love with Riga. I spent hours walking through the streets of Riga in the rain. I focused on the positives there, but I also felt vulnerable, that people back home in Canada, who often only tended to focus on the negative, would misunderstand my new perspective. I was very aware of how devastating Soviet occupation was for the people and the country, but I was in awe of all the Latvians who were able to carry on. Again I felt at home. Again I promised to return in a year or two, and to write. And again I returned to my busy life in exile, and many years passed before I was able to come back My parents went back and forth, and invited relatives and friends to visit us in Canada as soon as the borders loosened up in Me glasnost era.
Things had changed dramatically in the post-glasnost era. Entry visas were no longer required, private living arrangements with fn'ends and relatives became the norm, and since the summer of 1990, travel throughout Latvi-awas no longer restricted. Similarly, since the late 1980s Latvians from Latvia, with invitations from friends and family in the West, have been allowed to travel internationally. Along with these changes has come a complete change in attitudes among the more conservative segment of Latvians in the West. Many who had not dared to set foot in Latvia are now not only visiting, but trying to reclaim their properties and even considering living there for at least a part of the year. Some return to Latvia for good. Many Latvians are now trying to assist Latvia with their professional expertise. During our first contacts with Latvia we used to seek our common roots, heritage and culture, now we are beginning to recognize how different we are from each other.
These later contacts with labia and with Latvians from Latvia have been challenging. My own reasons for returning to Latvia have gone beyond being a tourist visiting friends and relatives. In 1991 my main reason for going was to interview the second generation Latvian Canadians living there. During the summer of 1992, my husband Andris was working on a feature film project in Riga which was a collaborative effort between Canada, the United States, Great Britain and Latvia. I returned to Latvia to be with Andris, and made use of the opportunity to continue my own interviewing.
I was struck by how rapidly and dramatically things were becoming 'westernized". Capitalism was making rapid in-roads: a range of products were becoming available, the opening of westem standard restaurants, advertisements, and the English language taking over where Russian left off as Latvia's business tongue. At the same time, I was also struck by how little was changing in terms of people's attitudes. Although there are many hardworking, decent people in Latvia, as a society they are still deeply affected by fifty years of Soviet oppression. This has made a psychologically devastating impact on the work ethic (which we in the West used to equate with the essence of being Latvian), attitudes, values, and morals. For example, many workers, who used to feel that they had the right to cheat and steal from the government because they were not properly remunerated for their work, continue this behaviour in the developing market economy. These problems exist at all levels of society, and make the process of democratization very difficult. Rising crime rates and the highly visible presence of the Mafia are also frightening. renegotiating identity
There have been many changes in my life over the past few years, not the least of which is a change in my personal friendship and support network. Things began to shift several years ago when three of my closest Latvian friends as well as my younger sister moved away from Toronto. Since that time, I have been spending less time with Latvians. I have been making new connections, often with people with whom I share professional interests. Now, I'm finding that I have more dose non-Latvian friendships Man I ever had in the past. I think that this is also connected to my broadening sense of who I am; it's no longer so exclusively linked to my being Latvian.
One of my own renegotiations began in the spring of 1990, when I attended an international conference of Latvian educators in Muenster, West Germany. It was the first time that I gave a presentation about Psychology in Latvian. The first time that my ethnic identity and professional world crossed paths. It was exciting. That summer I spent almost two months in Latvia. The professional self presented seminars to psychologists and educators about school psychology, and the ethnic self participated as a dancer in the Latvian Song Festival. I also explored the possibility of tackling a completely different research topic - women's rights and children's issues in Latvia.
Friends of mine had already spent extended periods of time in Latvia. and on this visit I began to understand why someone would choose to, would want to do that. Riga was beginning to reemerge as a European city, as Me dense fog of communism slowly lifted.
In the midst of the excitement, the interesting experiences, and many invitations to engage professionally in Latvia, one of my strongest renegotiations was evoked through this experience - as I acknowledged that Canada is my home.
I also had another identity renegotiation experience that could be called an identity crisis during my 1990 visit to Latvia. I was married in 1987 and, after some thought, I took on Andris' surname - Matiss. At the time I felt positive about creating a new identity with a new name - it worked for where I was at in my life, and I was not aware of having to resolve anything further regarding this issue; however, during my trip to Muenster, Germany, I participated in a women's forum with women educators from Latvia and from the West meeting and openly sharing their experiences. This was a poignant experience that brought home the need to help the women in Latvia to talk about women's rights, issues, and experiences. We agreed to meet again when we were all in Latvia during the Song Festival and 3x3 seminar that summer. Since, the forum in ktvia was attended by both familiar and new faces, we took the time to introduce ourselves again.
In my introduction I became very emotional- I introduced myself as llze MiezTte-Mat&. I said that in returning to Latvia for the first time in eight years, I found myself reconnecting with fragments of the Ike MiezTte that I had left behind with friends, relatives, places, experiences when I returned home to Canada from my previous visit in 1982. During that summer Latvia was full of Latvians living in exile that I had connected with in many of the different activities, events, and gatherings during my lifetime. I was also reconnecting with those parts of myself from those experiences. As a result, I was finding that introducing myself as lke Mat& somehow failed to capture the entire essence of who I was. Since my marriage I had become very involved in my graduate studies, and had gradually withdrawn from my Latvian community commitments. llze Miezile was the part of me who was entirely identified with being Latvian, which meant being very involved in the community in exile, and coming from a family which was the same. In returning to Latvia, and thus, becoming once again more connected to being Latvian, it felt important to me to hyphenate my name, so that I could capture the whole of who I am. For a period of time I needed to be llze Miez7tis-Mat& (the English version of my name) to feel whole again. I also went into therapy after my return from Latvia (for both personal and professional reasons), and as a result of much work, was able to resolve my sense of who I am. My middle name Arielle became the important link between who I was and who I am. Thus, I was able to let go of the cumbersome hyphenation, and became llze Arielle Maffss.I have resolved this identity renegotiation for now; however, this experience in Latvia illustrated for me how powerful and unexpected identity issues can be. Perhaps it was this experience that brought me back to this thesis topic.
My latest identity renegotiation has involved my becoming a mother. Thinking about beginning a family has brought many of my issues about renegotiating identities, as well as my relationship with the Latvian community, much more to the forefront of my consciousness. In this way too, the thesis journey has been closely linked with my personal journey, and reflects my own issues, as well as those of our community.
On February 13th, 1995 1 gave birth to my son Emils Markus Math. During my pregnancy I wondered what this new role would be like and how Emils would influence my life. I had hoped to finish my dissertation before his amval, but found myself completely absorbed with my pregnancy and nest building in our new home. It was very difficult to stay focused on my work, and so I found that I had to step back. There were too many unknowns. I wondered about who I was going to give birth to, and what this new person in my life was going to be like. When I resumed my thesis work in May, 1995 after my son's birth, I reflected on this experience and acknowledged that I now write from a new perspective for me. In reading Mary Catherine Bateson's (1994) Peripheral Visions I became alerted to the fact that I was now experiencing a new perspective for me - that of mother, in addition to that of researcher and fellow traveller.
While t was pregnant we thought a great deal about names. My parents' generation gave most of my generation traditional Latvian names like llze, Dace, Mara, Laima, Austra, Zinta, Inese, Gundega, Renate, Maim, Inta, Aija for girls, and names like Andris, Kariis, Ansis, Jhis, EM-ns, PiSteris, Eriks, Imants. Juris, Maris, lvars for boys. Some of these were not too difficult to pronounce, but many of us have stories to tell about our names. The choice of names also seemed to reflect an attitude in the Latvian community. People who chose to hold onto their Latvian identity gave their children traditional Latvian names, often without considering how those names would sound and be received in the Canadian society. In fact, many families who later became assimilated into the majority culture, no longer speaking Latvian to their children or encouraging their involvement in the Latvian community, had given their children traditional Latvian names. This choice seemed right at that time. I remember that it seemed very strange when I met someone of Lawmanorigin who did not have a Latvian sounding name. Names were and are a symbol of parental identities, attitudes, and traditions.
Choices of children's names are more varied within my generation. They range from traditional to conventional to being unusual and different. We wanted to give our child a name that works well both in English and Latvian. My husband and I both feel anchored in Canada. This is our home even though we are also deeply rooted in our Latvian heritage. We speak Latvian to each other and to Emls, but I also realize that my son will not have the same kind of experience of growing up Latvian-Canadian as I had. This is an important issue for me. I am increasingly aware of the fact that the interesting aspects of the community are not being revitalized because many of the active, young, interesting people are moving to Latvia. When we were young, my parents were part of the controversial liberal group who revitalized, what was becoming a stagnant, conservative community, through their participation in the founding of Valodiga, the Latvian Centre, 2x2 and 3x3 seminars. Many of my parents' friends' children who were active here are currently in Latvia. Sometimes it feels like there is a mass exodus, although it may not be true considering the actual numbers.
I have very little involvement in the organized life of the Latvian community at this time. In a sense I've been taking its existence for granted; however, since the regaining of Latvia's independence. I have been thinking and worrying a great deal about what will become of our Latvian community in the West, our trimda. This issue has become much more pressing since I've been focusing on this work because I am constantly coming up against different aspects of this renegotiation of ethnic identification through my observations, interviews, conversations, reflections. Things are changing, community life in exile is rapidly shrinking and Ifind it scary!
The Latvian communles outside of Latvia are renegotiating their priorities. WRh much of the funds, energy and focus being directed at Latvia, raising a child with Latvian experiences in Canada is becoming increasingly more difficult. It seems that on-going contact with Latvia is necessaty to create a meaningful experience of being Latvian for Me next generations, a challenge for renegotiations.
This brings me to my own renegotiations. As Latvia's independence emerged, I had the opportunity to get reacquainted with Latvians from Latvia in new ways. These experiences helped me to recognize how important my Canadian upbringing is to my identity. While I lived in a community in exile in Canada trying to keep alive what was being oppressed in Soviet occupied Latvia. I took my Canadianess for granted.
The question of ethnic identification meinto focus for me during Me spring of 1993 when we were offered the opportunity to "reclaim" our Latvian citizenship. This was a particularly acute issue at the time, because the Latvians from the West who had requested their citizenship by a certain date would be able to participate in the Latvian elections in early summer of 1993. As one would expect, this was a topic that was discussed widely in the months prior to the deadline. The citizenship issue was a political hot potato in Latvia. The question of who would be allowed to claim citizenship in the newly independent Latvia was highly controversial. The rules were continually changing, and I was not sufficiently informed about all the issues.
There continues to be a great deal of disagreement among people in Latvia regarding who is entitled to Latvian citizenship. The possibilities form a continuum between two extremes: the nulles variants would grant citizenship to everyone who was currently residing in Latvia, regardless of length or reason for residence in Latvia; while at the other extreme, the ultra nationalists argued that only those who were citizens of Latvia prior to 1940 and their descendants would be entitled to this status. Various proposals included different restrictions, one of which was that people could only hold one citizenship. This would mean that if Canadians of Latvian origin wanted to request their Latvian citizenship, they would have to give up their Canadian citizenship.
One of the main reasons for these disputes has to do with the fact that the Soviets attempted to nrssify Latvia during their occupation, and as a result. a large percentage of the population in Latvia is Russian. In 1992, only 52% of Latvia's inhabitants were Latvian and in Riga, the capital of Latvia, only a third were Latvians - Russians were the majority there. There are many Russians who were born in Latvia or who have lived there for many years, but there are a great number who were sent there by the soviet leaders to work in factories as part of the wssification policy to mix the Soviet peoples and ultimately reduce Latvians to a minority in their own country. Ethnic tensions are an issue between Latvians and Russians who do not want to learn Latvian. Latvia's official language. These are all very intense and complicated issues.
I had not been keeping track of the debates and decisions regarding clizenship issues and, as a result. I felt uninformed and confused about their implications for me. These feelings were not alleviated by my discussions with a friend who was working at the Latvian Embassy in Washington. She talked about some of the reasons why she as an American would not request the Latvian citizenship (apparently the situation is somewhat different in Canada. where we may hold dual citizenships). She also raised some other points to consider such as income tax, mandatory service in Me army. conscription, not being considered to be a Canadian first while on Latvian soil. These are areas in which laws have not yet been drawn up. so the implications could not be known as yet.
As a result, I felt tom and uncertain about asking for my Latvian citizenship. The decision was clear and simple for my husband Andris. He had not participated in these conversations, but he felt that it would be crazy not to apply. We had to request our citizenships so that we could vote in the elections. Andris felt that this was our way of helping in the democratic process there, and that democracy and independence is what we (the "community in exile") have been lobbying and demonstrating for all these years.
My reactions were not so clear cut. I got caught up in the potential implications of such an action. I also worried about the "what ifs". The October 1992 White House crisis in Moscow, a failed attempt at communist takeover in Russia, had evoked my doubts and fears for the future of Latvia. It was a stark reminder of how tentative and vulnerable things are in the ex-Soviet Union and therefore the implications that this could have for Latvia My mother was in Latvia at the time on one of her now regular professional trips, as were many of my friends who live there or who were planning to move there. There is not a clear sense of political stability in Eastern Europe. An event, such as the White House crisis, brought home the awareness of how desperate, short sighted, and tunnel-visioned ex-citizens can be, and how frightening and potentially dangerous this mentality is to growth and change. Things are potentially volatile in Latvia as well.
I almost did not register for citizenship. The night before Andris and I registered (24.03.93) I was very anxious. I felt tom and confused. I sat in bed and talked about these questions, conflicts, and confusions. I fell asleep not knowing whether or not I would go through with it. On March 25th. Andris and I went to register. We went to the Latvian Centre where LNAK (the Latvian National Association in Canada) was carrying out the registration process. We stood in line with mostly older people, but then an acquaintance from our generation also joined us. The whole time I was wondering if we were doing the right thing. I think that the number one reason why I was going through with it was because Andris had decided to. My number two reason was to add one more vote in the elections. I asked myself, however, do I, living in Canada have the right to have a say in Latvia's politics and elections? Also. unresolved.
It was a real conflict for me. Having to contemplate taking on Latvian citizenship made me even more aware of how strongly I identified as a Canadian. This was important to me. Being Canadian embraced for me everything that living in Canada stood for: birthplace, home, attitudes, values, human rights, experiences. friends, education, medical care, social mores.
Dual citizenship is in some ways simple during times of peace and stability, especially when my primary place of residence is in Canada. the more stable, safe and affluent of the two. At this point in time I feel that my primary citizenship is Canadian. Being Latvian is very central to and is a part of my core identity - it has always molded and influenced my life and my choices; however, what seems to be coming to the surface for me at present, is what this means "being a Canadian who is a Latvian". While in Canada, i place or have placed in hepast primary emphasis on "being Latvian'. Outside of Canada, the primary emphasis is on "being a Canadian" and on "of Latvian origin" second.
This is where I'm at wi-th my renegotiations. Being Latvian is important to me. My relationship with Latvia has undergone changes. I am faced with the awareness that, in order to raise children who have positive and interesting experiences with being Latvian, I will have to provide ongoing interaction with a Latvia that I currently have some ambivalent feelings about. Finally, an issue that has become clearer to me as well as to the participants in this study is that we have not been renegotiating only our ethnic identity, but that identity renegotiation is on-going.
Yes, indeed, my story is of negotiating a thesis and renegotiating identity. It is a story about struggle, doubt, faith. insight, and growth. In the beginning chapters of this thesis, I described how my thesis topic had evolved, grown and changed. The thesis process has allowed me to reflect on how the events and changes that have taken place in Latvia and in the community in exile have influenced my sense of who I am and where I belong - a renegotiation of my ethnic identity. I have developed a larger perspective of how I as a person have evolved over the last five years and what has contributed to that growth. Chapter Ten
Lives in Changing Contexts: Emerging fhemes
I think, sometimes, that we were children too overshadowed by our paren&' stories, and without enough sympathy for oursehres, for the serious dilemmas of our own lives, and who thereby couldn't live up to our parents' desire - amazing in its strength -- to create new life and to bestow on us a new wodd. And who found it hard to leam Bat in this new world too one must leam all over again, each time from the beginning, the tn'ck of going on.
Eva Hoffman, Last In TmWation :A Life In A New Language (I989)
After reviewing the women's stories and inte~ewscertain common themes emerged. In
this chapter, I reflect on the themes which arise out of the women's stories, and on issues relating to being Latvian, and how this impinges on sense of self, personal worth and ethnic identification over time. The common themes are: Where I Come From and My Inherited History; Who Am I? What Does "Being Latvian" Mean?; Leading a Double Life and The Awareness of Dmerence:
Finding My Place and Faang Challenges within the Latvian Community; My First Encounter with
Latvia and My Relationship with Latvia Now; Where Do I Belong? and Where is Home? For some each is a more central or prominent issue than for others. In all of these themes aspects of the individual participants' experiences of identity and self-worth are reflected. The participants' stories form the primary basis for the emerging themes discussed in this chapter, with corroboration coming from the interview data in a few instances.
10.1 Where I Come From and My Inherited History
I have the sense that my life began long before it actually began. There's maybe an element of fate about this. Like the events of the twentieth century had a lot to do wiih it. I have this feeling that my life didn Y begin in the l96Os, but at least some time in the 1940s, or even earlier than that. It seems a trajectory that released me in 1961. It's hard because a lot of things have been buried and not confronted, they seem to be only implicitiy understood. (I lga) The theme of inhefting history is a powerful one for our generation, as well as for our
people on both sides of the Latvian border. The theme of inherited history surfaces in each narrative, but it is a central issue in VaJeska's story.
It's interesting for me to go back to Latvia because I have not had &at much to do with Latvian society here in the last ten years, but still in the back of my mind is that whole notion of Mat it means to me to come from a arlture that is so full of pain, so full of violence, so ibll of having things taken away, so full of displacement. I do think about how parents go through experiences, they bury them, they raise a mild and then pass something on to the child. And then I think about what did their patents pass on to them, and their grandparents to them. So I'm part of a long chain Mat I have no due about-
All I know is mat 1'11 come to a doser understanding but, of course, 1'11 never fully understand /t because it's something inherited. What's interesting to me now is the whole notion of when you inherit a history, when you come from somewhere that has that history of pain and violence, and definitely dislocation...
Latvians are very stoic sometimes, and they are people who believe: 'You don? dwell on the past, you keep going: But I think that when you deny and repress things they inevitably manifest themselves in different ways and different behaviour fonns. And the more I think about things and the more I read the more I realize that some of Mese things manifested themselves in how I was raised or in the reactions my parents would have.
I'm wondering if you ever come to terms with some of the inherited demons and problems and history that you any. I guess the goal is to come to terms with the inherited history. the problems, some of the things that are thrown at you in a very subversive, covert. subconscious way. And some of these things I find you can 't even identify or grasp. They're secret, they're buried, they're hidden, they're in somebody else's past, they deal with memory, they deal with a history, a memory, which to me isnY tangible because it3 somebody else's. To me it's really, really hard. Renegotiate - for me the whole process is tfying to come to some kind of understanding and some kind of peace with it all. (Valeska)
Our inherited history and what the Latvians in Latvia have endured during the past fifty years of Soviet occupation influences our relationships and the struggles that we experience in trying to reconnect with our people in Latvia, and the "us and them" attitudes that emerge in the process.
I was very aware of how devastating Soviet occupation was for the people and the country, but I was in awe of all the Latvians who were able to cany on. (Ilze) I think that many people forget how much the local Latvians have suffered, 1 don7 mean physically, but in terms of what has happened here and what has happened to them. W& all that they're damaged, they have an incredible resiliency, and for me to mme into this society, l too have to be resilient in order to survive. That's something that we have in common. On fhe other hand. I feel that I am much more dear headed. I am able to give of myself. I don? have to hold back as much as they seem to. (MSra) The more I get to know people, the more I wake up to reality - I just see how deep some of the problems are, and how perhaps impossible they are to solve. I guess IVe changed in that respect. I guess I was much more naive two years ago. I don? think I'm that naive anymore. You realrie that you mYbe a total idealist here. iYs impossible. There's a lot that you have to fight every day. (Msra)
An actor I know said about a Latvian soap opera portraying supposed Latvian- Americans, "You [from the West] have to pay for your parents' sins". And I said "Which sins?". And he said the sin is that they wound up in a better place than everybody else's parents here after the war. An interesting comment and I think he's very right, bemuse the level of unacceptance of Westerners is based on jealousy. It is also based on a la& of self confidence, and on fear - fear that we are taking away the betterjobs and we are takXng away whatever else there may be, without understanding Mat to a large extent we are actual& giving something back to the community in one way or another. (Laimdota)
I'm trying to understand the Wenotion of history and going beyond yourself and what influences you and how you deal with it, in this life. 1 think I'm trying to break the cycle* or not even by consciously trying, but I'm really working with notions of anger, notions of hate. I feel that 1 am developing a passion and an understanding fur people, and it goes back to the sex I'm really trying to learn to understand how to love myself. understanding that to harm yourself you're really doing ham io the rest of the wotld. It's just sod, a negative, fruitless exerase, and yet we all do it. These are We things I'm working on and I do feel I'm breaking some kind of a cycle. (Vafeska)
Inherited history is our shared history as individuals, as a people, tauta, as Latvians, and as a community in exile - it is part of what can bring us together, allow us to feel an immediate connection at a deeper level, and make the meaning of our shared experience understood. At the
same time, it is part of what has separated many of the Latvians in the West from our compatriots in Latvia, what has prevented us from understanding and respecting each other; what fed many
of the 'us and them" conff ids that arose in the community between the conservative and more liberal minded people related to social and wltural contacts with Latvia under Soviet rule. Our
inherited history is also part of what made us feel different growing up as Latvian-Canadians in
Canadian society. 10.2 Who Am I?What Does "Being Latvian" Mean?
While growing up in the Latvian community in exile our sense of who we are as individuals was at least to some degree connected with our experience of what it meant to be Latvian. Our inherited history of a people in exile, our family background, language. traditions, and our eaensive time involvement and our parents' support to the Latvian community shaped our attitudes, beliefs, and values. Thus, the themes who am I, and what does "king Latvian" mean have surfaced in all of our storks.
Family, fiends, belongin , continuity, grounding, rroot, history, culture, dancing, singing, dainas (Latvian 9olksongs), folklore, spiritual, cunnectiion, freedom, opportunity, tmvel, organization, experience, meaning, educated, informed, scope, focus are words that come to mind when I think of the Latvian part of my life, of who I am. There are other words as well, such as, mnflict, fmstration, undermining, traditional, conservative, prejudiced, stagnant, opinionated, cliquish, wduding, limited, rreadonary, patriarchal, rej-ng, chamni&c, rude, aloohdic, obnoxious, degrading that also come to mind when I explore and reflect on my observations, experiences and memories of people and communities. There is a dichotomy in my experiences of my ethnicity and my Latvian community with both many positives and many negatives associated wrth them. (Ilze)
Wara and Laimdota talk about the positive aspects of growing up in a Latvian family and having Latvian community experiences. They share similar liberal aattitudes with their parents. Since open attitudes toward Latvia and "being Latviannwere a given, there were few ideological conflicts in their families regarding the kinds of people and activities that were acceptable. For
Mm, Laimdota, and myself "being Latvian" is strongly connected with our personJ identity and sense of self. It is part of who we are.
Being Latvian ("LatviebBa? was my strong foundation on which I could build further. Anything that I became involved in, be it school or a career. was also linked with my being Latvian. I always had something to say about myself, about who I am. Being Latvian was a constant that held me together no matter what else I was doing or going through. I don? think that being Latvian has ever been a negative thing for me, although there are complications. On the other hand, you can never escape being Latvian either. Even though everything has two sides, I feel that the positives of being Latvian have far outweighed the negatives in my life. I cant imagine living without that. It is realy important to me. It is the biggest part of my soul, and I just cwld not live without it, or would not want to live without it. (Mars) I grew up spending most of my free time with Latvian friends in Latvian activities. 1 remember feeling that my Canadian friends at school muld never real& know me, because they didnY know the Latvian part of who I was. In my youth. my personal identity was very closely connected to being Latvian and I did not question it. (Ilze)
Latvia was always constant in my background. my sistefs as well. So language. culture, Latvian issues, were always one common denominator. In Germany we were looked on as Canadians and when we came back to Canada we were looked on as Germans. Somewhere in there the most impodant one was the Latvian element. I would say the much more profound turning point was coming back We were brought back from Germany to Canada ultimately to stay Latvian. Which worked. that part worked. (Laimdota)
This is in contrast to Valeska's, ingiida's and llga's experiences with more challenging
family attitudes and values regarding what aspects of 'being Latviannwere acceptable.
Even though I had gotten the message that Latvian stuff was the most important and the most meaningful, 1just didn't see any proof of that in my parents' lives. other than they spoke Latvian to each other and my father read Latvian books. but nothing really charged them up. I knew it was supposed to be important, but I couldn t see why, really. 1 guess my deciding to do all these other Latvian things. like going to Germany and going to Kalamazoo, was kind of looking for reasons why it should have meaning for me, and I think I've found some. (I ngrida) My upbringing, and also my experfence in the Latvian schools, seems to have been focused on the idea that they are raisin little Latvians. not individuals, and "we want you to be a good lime Latvian. an tthis is how you become a good Latvian". I had always this awareness in the Latvian high school that if we were required to write an essay, 1 knew that if you wrote a little patriotic something, that would be just fine* I knew what was required and I knew that if I wrote what 1 thought, they wouldn't be interested. I think that's, unwittingly maybe, what my parents were doing too, with the result that I had learned very well not to even know what I really think, other than that I rehse to think the way that's expected of me. (Ingrida) I wasnY taken to these activities [such as folkdancing and choir] like other kids were by their parents. My mother didn Y really want me to go. .. . But, I actively wanted to go.... When the local Laivian political crisis arose in the mid seventies. there was always a lot of disapproval about the people I was associating with - the u'communistcollaborators" or something, all of that. Eventually she did accept the fact that I really loved to dance, really truly, I lived for it and waited for it all week long. All of this was definiiely of my own choice. (Ilga)
lngiida and Valeska brought up the fact that in their families as well as in some of their community experiences "being Latvian" was presented as being "very special,' that "being
Latvian" set them apart and in some ways made them superior to others; however, in their experience this did not seem real or true to them. I know that coming from the family I did, I was always expected to excel and my parents always said: "You're so special, and being Latvian is so special, and you come from a good family, so you have to do weir. I think that my parents pointed out that we're special with wilhmost a sense of superiotilyFperhaps as a need to defend and preserve our cuitural difference. There was always that di'ndion made between Latvians, "latvie&" and Canadians, and when the word Canadian was said, it was said in Laivi.an it would be "kanZdi&iM (with a slightly condescending tone to voice), as if there was some kind of a status separation, and I remember that realw dislinclEy. What hatmes over is how a lot of Latvians and other people's parents still make that big diffeentiation. (Valeska) My teacher was this lovely /Me old lady. Whenever I did something she didn't like, she would take one of my braids in her hand and sort of pat it and say that being Latvian was something so special and so good and so pure and so perfect, that how can you be anything other than a nice giti because of being Latvian. That was my sense or feeling about what being Latvian was. (Ingfida)
We all had interesting experiences that were connected to being Latvian. Laimdota. MXra. and I spoke of how there was always something going on at home involving other Latvians from
Toronto and other communities in exile such as meetings for organizing various sodal. cultural and educational events and activities, and overnight visitors from out of town. From our early childhood we were in contact with family friends, other active community members and leaders from around the wodd, and thus began to form our own sodal networks.
My experiences of being Latvian with family and family friends was usually positive. My parents and their friends lived in the present and planned for Me future of the Latvian community. Our involvement in being Latvian was very real and meaningful. It meant that we travelled and had friends all over the wotld. We also had many interesting visitors who came to stay with us, such as, musicians, actorsFwriters, ariists, politicians, educators, folWonsts. This also meant giving up our beds and sleeping on the couch for the duration of their stay, which sometimes felt disnrptive- We had our own langua e that allowed us to communicate amon st ouselves and with Latvians from non-E nglish speaking countries. We had a ri$r cultural backgrouna a wealth of songs, dances and folkfore; interesting folk costumes; beautiful traditional jewelry; lifelong friends and connections; and a large selection of functions and activities to attend. I felt like I naturally belonged when I was with Latvians. (I lze) I think my whole Latvian side very much gravitated around the home and the family and, because when you're younger your parents organize all your events, any spare time that I had was spent with Latvians. I went to Latvian heritage school on Saturdays and to Sunday School on Sundays. My parents had a summer house at the Latvian church camp property so all my summers were spent here. When I went to school I'd tell kids about my summers and they couldn't relate, they didn't have the same thing. In that sense I think there was a lot of positive because I think that growing up going to these Latvian camps was a good thing. 1 think it was very enriching wlturally and creatively Mrough all the games, stories, cm&, music, sports and nature activities that were organized. The Latvian cuMKal community provided a lot of activities and a lot of growth for kids. The kids that I went to school with in Etobimke didn't have that. (Valeska)
There were also many educational experiences offered outside of the Toronto Latvian community such as the high school in Muenster, Germany; the Latvian Studies Centre in
Kalarnazoo, Michigan; 2x2 youth seminars; and Latvian summer high schools in the United
States. The participants described these as having made a significant impact on their sense of self, and as having added depth and meaning to their experience of being Latvian. Other significant events included political and social-cultural gatherings such as the Latvian World Youth
Congresses, the Madrid Conference. the Baltic Peace and Freedom Cruise, and perhaps most important for many of us the Song (and dance) Festivals held almost yearly in various parts of the free world. All of these experiences brought together Latvian young people from around the world, and supported social and friendship networks which heightened the experience of being connected to an interesting community and fostered a sense of belonging.
There have been moments when I have felt really proud to be Latvian. I can't tell you when specificalfy, but at Latvian Song Festivals where I've been a partidpant. 1 always found that during the main folk dance show there is a moment when you get camed away by your incredible connection to the people all around you. (MZira) I think my feelings about being Latvian became more intensive when I started to attend Latvian summer high schools in the States. I'd already been going to Latvian summer camp as a child, but that was with people from the Toronto area- When I started going to the summer schools, I met people from everywhere. I developed a strong desire to meet more new people. I started writing to friends and travelling. I soon realized that I could meet Latvians everywhere, it became almost an obsession ("dmdzis"). The prospect of being able to travel and visit friends became really important to me. (MBra)
The year that I spent in Germany was also confirming. I was sixteen when 1 went to the Muenster Latvian High School. It was my first experience when I felt that you can have a life in Latvian, because before that it was almost something that you were obliged to do rather than just being. (Ingn'da)
At this [2x2] camp there were also people from the Western Michigan Univefsiiy Latvian Studies Centre in Kalamazoo and they did their schpeel. Since I had no plans for my fufure I decided to try Kalamazoo. I ended up staying for half of that year and another year. I didn't get over my writing block there, but I did learn a lot. I had been going to Latvian schools all these years and I went to Muenster, and never had I read something in Latvian that I was very interested in. This was the first place that I started reading a lot. (Ingrida) The LaMan community allowed me to expand my arde of friends because I made friends in Philadelphia, New Yo&, and I spent time with them and that was lo& of fun. 1 even spent a couple months one summer in a camp in up state New Yo&, and that was a nice experience. (Vdeska)
A pivotal point came in the fall of 1980.1 remember being called up by a prominent member LNA K (Latvian National Association in Canada). They were looking for young people to go to Madrid. Spain to demonsirate at an international conference.... That was an astonishingly upliflng experience, and was very well organized. There were 30 Lahrian young people from around the world. It was like a youth festival. Emotions and camaraderie were sky high. A Latvian pastor from Philadelphia, Mans Kirsons, protested Latvia's occupation by spiling his blood on the Soviet flag, which put him on the front cover of Time Magazine. 1 met people from Europe. It was the experience of a lifetime, never to be forgotten. (Ilga) I ended that summer [IW'Z], of visiting old friends in Germany, an intemational Latvian youth conference in London that definitely sucked me into the Latvian community like a vacuum deaner. Right after that 1 went to visit Laivia for the first time in my life. The impression made on this pa~culartrip went very, very deep. It was an incredible bonding experience. (Laimdota)
The extensive and well-organized cultural and arts communrty brought us into contact with creative people. All of us have memories of being taken to art exhibits and concerts from a young age. Those from the more liberal-minded families also had eaQ exposure to and contacts with artists, writers, musicians, and actors from Latvia. I remember meeting the first visitors to Canada, a group of actors from Latvia, in the early 1970s at a social gathering in my parents' home. For
Ingrida, Ilga, and Valeska these contacts began later when they were old enough to seek them out for themselves.
While 1 was still in Toronto, before I went to Germany, 1 had gone to hear poets from Latvia reading and that was real contact with Latvians from Latvia, but that was still at another level - that was celebrities and culture which was interesting, different, but at a distance. It was also, incidentally, tacitly disapproved of by a large part of the community. I didn't ever tell my parents that I was going, just to avoid possible confrontation. (Ing n'da) Probably because I was out and about, and going to all kinds of events and functions I met people with differing viewpoints, as op osed to those who sat around entrenched in their opinions at home. (laughingfil lga)
These comments lead into the next theme that emerged from the participants' stories, namely the "awareness of differencen. 10.3 Leading a Double Life and the Awareness of Difference
Ail of our stories illustrate how growing up in two cultures created the experience of leading a double life. Some experiences have positive and/or neutral connotations of being different. some are special and unique, whereas, others are negative and evoke feelings of confusion and marginalization. We were all active in the Latvian community as members of social, cultural and political organizations. as participants and spectators in community events and activities, our families were involved with the community to varying degrees, and we all had our social networks and friendships with other Latvians. Meanwhile. our nine-to-five lives were in the "Canadian" community of school and work. When we speak of our non-Latvian experiences, relationships and activities we refer to these as our "Canadian"school and our "Canadian" friends. From the standpoint of an "outsider" this sounds absurd since we are all Canadian born and raised, but for us there is this distinction which forms the basis for our double life.
I always felt growing up that I lived two separate lives, and that I was one identily for all my Canadian friends, and I was a completely different identity for all the Latvian people that I knew. The whole Latvian identity was very much defined around the home. It was defined in tenns of Vle decor of the home. I remember when I went into other friends' houses their decor was very, very different. The Latvian home had a lot of embroidered pillows, all the Latvian artifacts, paintings, books. We ate different food. 1 remember Mat I very much felt that my identity at home was almost like an insulated construct because whenever 1 anived home from school it was just such a separate reality from everything else that went on out there. The things that we talked about would be different. 1 very much separated them. I think my whole Latvian side very much gravitated around Me home and the family and because when you're younger your parents organize all your events, any spare time that I had was spent with Latvians - that whole Latvian experience was very separate from anything that I experienced outside of it, it was very, very different, and somehow the two were never bridged. (Valeska) What I remember from being a teenager was that I had one distinct persona at home and I had one for school. When I'd go to schooh I'd wear a skirt and a blouse and brown shoes, something very ordinary; /I'd keep my clothes at a gitffriend's place and I'd change on my way to school, and change back before 1 went home. I wasn't allowed to wear make-up so I'd put make-up on at somebody else's house. I think I did what I did because it was very important to be accepted at school. I'd go to Latvian school Friday evenings, but I'd be a different person. My Canadian school persona was developing into one where I was like a hip girl. where I was getting tough. I didnY show any of my Canadian sides at Latvian school. (Valeska) It was definitely a maner of having two different lives. 1 think when we were young we perceived it as having this exciting life on the weekends whether it was performing Wh Di2?danus or going on these wiM and cmzy road trip or performing somewhere- (Ilga. III pp. 19-20)
My Latvian self in English school was very proud to be different. And it was very definite& diferent, and that has been another "schizoid" thing. 1 think I didn't look on the Englhh stuff as being real or important. 1 really like school and all that sluff, but my friends were just my school friends. 1 always felt that. After school I might stay at somebody's house and play, but it felt like that wasnY really my life, not in the way that the Latvian stuff was. That was just the way it was. (I ngn'da) At Canadian school I've always felt that I was different in the sense that I have an ethnic background. Those of us who had an ethnic background, be it Latvian, Ukmnian, or whatever, we found that we understood each other some how, because we all lived a little differently from our average Canadian pees. When I was in elementary school there were times when I was almost embarrassed about my Latvian background. I tried to hide it because 1 didn't want to be different. (MZra)
Mara mentioned that there were times in elementary school that she felt like hiding her
ethnic background because she did not want to be different. Valeska, Ingtida. and llga also spoke
of feelings of marginalization because of being different from the dominant culture within the Canadian context.
In kindergarten I was an Ingfida, but when I was in grade one my teacher said "do you want to be called lngrid or lngfida?: which I had never come across in my life. so 1 didn't know what she was talking about. So she called me Ingrid, and I've been Ingrid ever since.. . I found for a really long time when I would be introducing myself, I just didn't know what to say, and so everybody's first introduction to me was to a very confused individual who doesn't even know what her name is. (Ing rida)
I also recall at one point wanting to change my name because I just felt really awkward about it and 1 was always centred out. In school 1 was ve much an outsider. I developed some very close friendships with girls. Some 7nendships that have lasted now for thirty years. But for the most part I was considered an outsider. (Valeska)
The powerful expectation of maintaining the ancestral language in the home and in the community was experienced by all of us. It was seen as an important part of what defined us as being Latvian, of what set us apart. and what gave us access to our rich inherited culture and to community life. It was a symbol of our belonging to our Latvian heritage. It was the first language that we learned to speak, and because we spoke Latvian with our families, all of us started elementary school with little or no English language sldlls. The expectation was that we would leam English easily and natumlly enough in the outside world, but that maintaining Latvian language use was a challenge for the family context. We all learned to speak English, but in the transition we were sometimes left feeling like outsiders in the Canadian context
My most vivid early memory of nursery school is when I fell down ihe huge slide in the playground of the Institute of Child Study at the age of three. I remember that I did not speak English well. When I regained m bearings at the bottom. I was aware of adults hoveting over me, wondering {assumed) whether I was all right. I pointed to my nose and said "Man deguns sZp" which means "My nose hurts: Needless to say I survived this firrt fall, and eventually was able to express myse/f in English as well. However, this is the only clear memory that I'm aware of, that is linked to a time when I was unable to communicate in English. When I still spoke almost only Latvian. (I lze)
And I remember going to kindergarten and not knowing English. It's only recentcy that I realized that they must have had me down as a slow leamer Mile I was at that school. (Ilga) I was raised in a Latvian household. As far back as I can remember 1 was never taught English at home. 1 was actuallly discouraged from learning English and up until about the age of fieall of my friends were Latvian - I didnY have any Canadan friends. I remember when I was in kindergarten I didn't speak any English and the kids teased me a lot. I had leamed to speak English by the time I went into grade one. (Valeska) I leamed to speak English from my brother and sister. My sister didn't know English when she had to go to school, so they sent her to nursery school to leam English. We were pretty much left to ou~selves,so we mostly interacted with each other and with kids on Me street. (Ingrida)
Some participants considered Latvian to be their language with their family members. Others experienced conflict around the language issue.
Latvian was our language of communication at home, with my parents, siblings and with some of my friends even when we were in the non-Latvian speaking world. We hardly ever spoke English, except when we began to lack more complicated and technical vocabulary in Latvian. (I ke)
Being Latvian and speaking Latvian has always been an integral part of who I am. It has also been an integral pafl of my family life. mere was a time when I found it very difficult to express myself in English in my family home. because I associated it with speaking Latvian. As a child I also found it awkward to have to speak English to my parents in public places. Latvian was our family language. (he) Latvian was something that we only spoke to our parents. Maybe that's how it started, and it upset my parents that we spoke only English to each other. They ot really heavily into the "speak Latvian!" thing, and no way did that work. fing&) The community's expectation regarding Latvian language maintenance and use has been unyielding. If community members do not speak Latvian, then they are not really worthy members of the community. The community invests all its effort and resources in educational activities for those who speak Latvian. fhis intolerant attitude, and the subsequent paucity of events and services geared toward the non-Latvian speaking members of the community, contributed to the rapid shrinking of the community in the wake of ever increasing numbers of mixed mamages and the growing rate of assimilation. Attempts to reach out to non-Wian speaking members of the community, such as some of the programs at the Latvian Canadian Cultural Centre, the special program for children who do not speak Latvian at the elementary school Valodipa, summer camp weeks geared to non-Latvian speaking children, and youth events like SM~Jwhich were created with the aim of bridging this gap to the Latvian community for its non-Latvian speaking members through the arts, have all received criticism at varying points in time from the larger community. Thus, Latvian language use has been an important issue and a source of conffict both within families and in the Latvian community at large.
The only thing I remember my mother saying about Me school issue was 'Oh, but they want to teach Latvian as if it were a foreign language; my children don? need
it, it should be taught as a native language. ." (I lga)
Although the participants are all fluent in Latvian, language issues have played a role in their interpersonal relationships.
It was strange because my sister and I speak only English to each other. I think it was strange to be going to someihing like this together, and I'm sure it felt awkward either to speak Latvian to each other or to speak English when you're speaking Latvian to everybody else. That's always been a weird thing, because with different people it felt right to speak difrent languages. I don Y remember ever objecting to the idea of speaking Latvian. But I knew which people thought it was really stupid and uncool, and I didnY speak it with them. There were others who it was fvn to speak Latvian to. But with my sister I feel like I'm being obedient if I speak Latvian to her, and then it doesn't feel like a real conversation. (Ingfida) When I was [older] I remember wondering what my parents had done "right", why my brother and sister and I felt comfortable speaking Latvian among ourselves. This was not always so in other families. mydid we feel so comfortable being Latvian? (Ibe)
The awareness of difference also emerged within the Latvian community while growing up. It is reflected in Me inter-generational conflicts expressed in the narratives, as well as, the ideological differences within the community. Laimdota, Mam, and I each spoke of how we experienced conflicts in the Latvian community from the perspective of having grown up with more liberally minded parents. Ilga, Ingn'da, and Valeska each provided perspectives from their experience of having grown up with parents who were more traditionally minded. The narratives reveal that in spite of the very sharp conflicts among the liberal and conservative wings of the community on certain issues, the attitudes towards specific activities and institutions varied from family to family. For example, while llga was not allowed to attend the high school in Muenster,
Germany and participate in 2x2 youth seminars for ideological reasons, Valeska and lngrida were supported by their parents to take part in these liberal educational experiences.
I wanted to go to the Latvian high school in Muenster, Germany very, very badly. I took Geman in school so that I would have some basic language sMs. One year Gennan conflicted with my music dass and I chose Geman. I really wanted to go since three or four of my Latvian classmates had already gone. Although realistically my mother didn P have the money for & she wasn Y even interested in considering options because it meant that I would be in a hot bed of "communists." She wasn't about to send me there. I remember being vev disappointed and not understanding why she was so disapproving. That was probably a factor in why I went off to Muenster in 1985 - to catch up on something that I missed. My mother also never let me go to 2X2. It was also, in her opinion, one of those very suspect seminars. I envied anyone who got to go. I never went to a 2XZ until 1 helped organize one in Germany in 1987. (Ilga)
For Ingrida, Laimdota, llga and Valeska, experiences of living and studying in West
Germany in their youth added yet another angle to the experience of difference, since it also set them apart from their Latvian, as well as, their "Canadian" peers who had only lived in Canada.
When I came back here to Toronto, I really hated it. The whole way of living here felt absurd to me; it felt absurd to get into a car and go to a shopping mall after having lived in a medieval crfy for a year. 1 found it really hard to relate to the whole suburban environment I was in. When I went back to high school nobody talked to me. I remember, I came back and I was wearing dogs. I used to wear all black clothes and at Bat point nobody dressed like that, and so everybody used to always stay away from me. That was really interesting. 1 spent a lot of time with people who had been in Europe with me and who could relate to that experience. (Valeska)
Coming back to Canada my first impression was of how many people were there, my second one was of how incredibty conservative the community was. And there we were, drawn into the Latvian community, which actually seemed very alien. 1 think that we probably perfomred the Latvian rituals and our work very well, but it took quantum leaps to M in with the mob in certain activities. (Laimdota)
10.4 Finding My Place and Facinq Challenges Within the Latvian Community
In our youth, while feeling that we more closely identified with being Latvian, as the younger generation we often feft like we were in a catch-22 position with the community elders, or more specifically, those people with more traditional viewpoints who frequently complained about such issues as the young people's apparent apathy, their tendency to speak English with their peers instead of Latvian, and their lack of participation in the social, cultural and political life of the established organizations. At the same time they criticized the active participation. organizational leadership, and creativity exhibited in innovative projects. cultural events as well as the more liberally oriented educational enterprises such as 2x2 seminars which challenged the status quo by introducing young people to a broader perspective on Latvia's history and current events in Latvia. Latvian Youth Song Festivals, theatrical performances and concerts featuring young composers, conductors, writen, and directors, especially when perceived as left wing or avant- garde, were also seen as controversial. Each of us has experienced this ambivalence to some degree in our interactions with the community while growing up. In recent years, both Valeska and llga have experienced a lack of support from Me Toronto community in their respective fields of interest, namely the arts and education. For llga this has been an on-going baffle, while for
Valeska it has become another disappointing rejection after years of having distanced herself from the community, in part, because of these attitudes.
This was also the time of several social-political conflicts in the Toronto Latvian community. mere was the creation of an alternative elementary school "Valodipa"; the buying of the Latvian Canadian Cultural Centre; and the highly loaded issue of 'kuitfiras sakariU- whether or not the adle wmmunity should have any contact with Latvia and it's culture. There were very, very wet1 etched lines of who was on which side, and people beme very entrenched in theirpositions. I remember tying to stay outside of it. I didnt lump all the issues together. 1 thought the school issue was different than the building isue which was different fmthe "kut6ra.s sakaru" question. I thought it was pre obvious that for people who were educated in the West, a school that di? nY teach in the style of the 1930s was probably a pretty desirable thing. They should not have been blamed for wanting an alternative school. (Ilga) I remember coming back to Canada for Chn'strnas and taking on an almost snob attitude. It was pfetiy funny, feeling kind of special. It was a novelty at that point to go to Muenstec and when you came back you were sort of looked at as somebody who was going through the special experience. Not always in a positive way though; I remember I went with my family to church and this woman openly attacked me and said that I was going to a school that was run by communists, that kind of nonsense. (Valeska) Growing up in my family. I have experienced both the excitement of being the child of parents who often took on an innovator role in the Latvian community as well as the fnrstration, pain, and anger at observing how the community could ostracize those who dared to challenge the status quo, those who wanted to try something new or different. (Ilze) I can remember on of the wondedbl things - a wondeiful, wonderful feeling - such as organi'ng"s- I WZisla ir Jauna, and then, on the other side of the coin, ewtremely conservative forces - it was alleged that I was a member of the KGB party, painted red, communist, and traitor, all kinds of things for even wanting some kind of contact with Latvia. It was tiring. 1 think a lot of people were chased away, scared away, of my own generation, from the Latvian community because the fights that would go on had no relevance with the world at large, at a4 at all, at ail. (Laimdota)
We have all experienced struggles and conflicts with the community in exile, as well as with Latvia. The Latvian community was very active and highly organized, but it has also been a relatively small community, which has always required the active participation of its members.
Thus, once involved, the expectation was to continue to be involved in any number of events, activities, organizations and so on. The result was that often the same small group of people in any given organization were repeatedly giving their time and energy, and were pressured to continue to do so. The more activities and organizations one was involved in, the more heightened was this experience of being needed, being expected to and feeling obligated to be involved. At the same time the community did not always respond supportively to the efforts of organizers, and could be very critical. This combination of high demand and lack of appreciation left some hard working members feeling trapped and resentful of the demands, especially if their efforts also involved self-sacrifice. For us as young members of the community these opportunities made life interesting, but at the same time many of us began to feel depleted and fragmented.
We have all periodically received criticism regarding what we have been involved in or what we believe in. This has been frustrating and disheartening at times, while at others it has provided Me impetus to boldly move forward in spite of it. While being on Me Latvian National
Youth Association of Canada (LNJAK) executive, I remember feeling frustrated that the community mourned the assimilation of its members into the dominant Canadian culture, while being blind to the fact that their rigidity, lack of appreciation and outright rejection of the young people's efforts and creative explorations of self-expression contributed to their leaving the community. Ingrida resonates to this issue of self-defeating involvement in the Latvian community through the Epiphany - Piedalis'anis (Taking Part).
I remember something that I found written by a Latvian poet that kind of says it all about how I feel I've been raised in my family and in the Lalvian communrty. It's wriften by lmants Zedonis. Ws not really a poem, he calls his collection Epiphanies, and there's one about leaving %is place" because all it asks of anyone is to participate. Instead of helping people form themselves, they're just splitting themselves and just giving bits of themselves to the whole and in Me end there's nothing left of anyone. The image is opposite to "taking part", more like giving part@).
In this Epiphany, he starts out by saying 4'm leaving this place" and how all this place has asked of anybody is to participate ("piedaliiis"). Affer a period of givingltaking part he had realized that he should be getting something back. He was looking for himself in all this that he had been participating in and couldn't find it. It all hinges on these Latvian words about participation. Part of the word for "participate" or 20 become involved" ("pieda~&n&'? has to do with splitting or sharing ("darannl").He turns that around and, in contrast to participating, he uses the word "pievienoties" which is similar, but has to do with wholeness -- joining in, coming together as one. And to be able to do that, he feels it is necessa y to form oneself. (Ing rida)
Ingfida, Ilga, and I each experienced the toll of over-involvement in the community. The detailed accounts of these experiences are illustrated in each of our stories in the previous chapters. Ilga, at the time of the interviews, continued to be very active in the community in spite of a great deal of criticism from people in the Tomto community for her innovations and ideas challenging the status quo. In her namtive she talked at length about her many levels of involvement in the community, and how she has often felt like an outsider, a person non-grata, both at school and in the Latvian community.
Another aspect of this [identity crisis and uncertainly] is that I somehow feel that my involvement [in the Latvian community] is just not as good as the way other people do these things. I don Y think it's just me, I think I've picked up tbe sentiment that3 in the community: that what you do within the mmmunity is second rate. I definitev have a built in set of beliefs mat the things [e.g. 3x3, folkore, teaching] that I've been doing in the Lalvian community are not worth as much as what other people do. (Ilga, Ill p. 11) ... In contrast my SCA [Society for Creative Anachronism] people ask me to bring my Me'to play for them because they like it. The first time this happened I was very surprised because I thought t'sjust a We',it3 a primitive little instnrment, it's not worth much, it's no big deal: And they think it's just the coolest thing. ..But what I do in terms of folklore still hasnY filtered through the Latvian community here. They don't realize fiat I do other things. People here still think that I'm a political activist and I haven? done that for about eight years. I have a sense that I have to prove myself outside in order to gain respect. (Ilga. II I pp. 14-1 5)
Self-validation experiences first came from contact and work with like-minded Latvians who were respected in the community; and through friendships with people involved in the folklore movement in Latvia.
I too was highly involved in the Latvian community throughout my childhood and youth.
Almost every evening and weekend was accounted for. In university I began to feel the stress of over-involvement and my studies were suffering as a result. I found that it was very difficult to say ''no" when my help was needed, and I ended up taking on more than I could do well and started feeling used and resentful. I found that because I was involved in the community in many ways, people expected me to agree to help or participate in everything, and I found it difficult to draw boundaries between my participation and my self. I began to realize that for me to be of help to the community in the long run, I had to take care of myself, my education and my future career first. I found it hard to withdraw because so much of my sense of self was connected to
this on-going involvement. I was a good person because I was so committed to community life, like my parents.
Although we all continue to have some contact with the Latvian community, either socially or by participation in some formal social and cultural events, at the time of the interviews llga was the only one of the four of us currently living in Canada who was still highly active in the community.
This leads to the next theme, our relationship with Latvia now in the wake of independence.
10.5 My First Encounters With Latvia and What is My Relationship With Latvia Now
The interesting thing being there in Latvia this time, there were moments when I felt a strung connection there, there is something there, maybe it's something that is very ancestral or past, or it's roots, there's something "roots" there. (Valeska)
We all reported strong emotional experiences regarding our first visit to Latvia. This experience gave us the opportunity to connect in a real way with our people, tauta, in the homeland. It also validated and grounded or inspired our activity in the community in exile, since it connected it with a real place, not just the fantasies of the older generation. On an interpersonal level we connected with our roots, our extended families who remained in Latvia, and provided a window into our parents' pasts.
The periods of our first visits vaned. Laimdota had the earljest first experience, but then was not issued entry visas again until 1988.
I remember, in 7972. coming out of Hotel Riga where I was staying. 1 was right across from the opera, and it was a sunny day. 1 suddenly looked over these trees and saw Mother Latvia's statue, the "Freedom Monument". And I thought: My God, this is real, you know, his is really real and it's better than I thought it would be. So that's the very first impression of Latvia. And that realty changed my life, so Bat now I became devoted to the muse, ultimately, the cause of beedom and independence. mat changed my life because I knew my people are here in Latvia, and I knew my people were dying before my eyes. When I left, I somehow swore to myself that if they were going to die, you know be it my generation or fhe next, it might as well not be with a whimper, but a mighty scream. The impression made on this particular trip went very, very deep. It was an incredible bonding experience, where we were all people of very different political persuasions and directions but there we were together in Latvia for the first time. After cuming back, I became political^ active in the Latvian community, which instantly stopped any possibility of getting any visas from Moscow. (Laimdota)
I have early memories of emerging connections with Latvia prior to actually going there. The following excerpt captures this memory of a first encounter with Latvia as a real place, and as a place that my family is connected to.
I have a large extended famiiy here in Canada and in the United States, but there is also a very large part of he extended family Mat remained in Latvia - my paternal grandparents ' siblings and cousins, and their offspring. My fathefs parents both came from very large fmlies. 1 remember being at my grandmother3 house as a chiM,and for the first time becoming aware that there was a letter from Latvia. At that point I didn Y realize that we had family in Latvia - the family I knew was the family that 1 IIed with or I met wiU, or saw here. It was a bizarre experience to be confronted with this real' because of the letter. 1 do remember the awareness that emerged as a result o? the letter that there is a connection to a "real" Latwa, a world other than what was talked about at Latvian school as an idealized place that had brown cows that ave the best milk and produced he best butter in Europe and with wonderful fanns - a great place that was taken away. 1 remember vividly that for me as a young child Mat letter symbolized the fact that there was a connection to a place I didn't know. (Ilze)
My own first trip to Latvia was in 1978.1 was thirteen years old, and the experience was overwhelming. Latvia became a real place for me. It really grounded my experience of being
Latvian and gave speaking Latvian new meaning. Prior to going, I had started to rebel against family and community expectations to speak Latvian, and had started to speak English more with
Latvian-speaking peers and family. When I returned. I felt more confident about how being
Latvian set me apart from my peen, and I felt more assured of my own sense of self. At this time still relatively few people were travelling to Latvia, and it was not widely accepted to do so. I felt proud that I had had that experience, and it definitely fueled my desire to continue to participate in our community in exile. Upon entering the border into Soviet tem'tory, after crossing the Baltic Sea by ferry from Helsinki into Tallinn, many of us, myself included, were subjected to invasive and rude customs checks. Despite these difficulties my first visit to Latvia was ove~elminglypositive. I felt a real connection to my tauta, my people. I fotmed some very intensive connections with both farniiy and acquaintances in the less than two weeks that I was there. I found it difficult to express how meaningfi~lit was for me to be with my people, and to actually be in the special places that I had only heard about, such as, Brivibas piemineklis the Freedom monument and the Gauja river which is mentioned in many folk songs. When I talked with my peers there, I shared my knowledge and understanding of history and &e occupation of Latvia. I was often surprised about how limited their knowledge was or pernaps how reluctantly they admitted knowing anything about it. I did not want to leave when our tour ended. 1 swore that I would return in a year, two at the latest I promised I would me. When I returned home I felt much more connected to being Latvian. I felt great pride about my ability to speak Latvian. The value of being able to speak Latvian well, had allowed me to experience this intensive connection with Latvia. I ihink that already hen Latvia began to feel like my second home. (Ilze)
Ingn'da's first contacts with Latvia were with visitors to Canada whom she felt contributed to shaping her experience of Latvia as a real place. She herself first went to Latvia during the mid 19803, prior to glasnost.
I remember another powerful earlier contact with somebody Latvian. My aunt had been writing to a oung couple that lived on my uncle's former property in Latvia. I had seen cards byat hey sent. The woman was an artist. She came here in the early eighties and showed slides and talked about how they lived there. It was a group of young people -- like hippies. They lived in the city during the week, and then they went up there, and lived in a "back to the land-ish" way. It really moved me somewhere when I heard her talking about that. 1 think 1 was about fourteen. It just occurred to me that this "unreal Latvia" that we had read about in our school books, was what these people were living - the pastoral, beautiful simple life. skiing through the fields to their house because there was no road. And while on the one hand I thought that much of what we were fed about Latvia was clouded by sentiment, these people were living it and I thought it was great.
My grandmother had been going to Latvia for years. She went every summer. But she never talked about it, so even that didn"teal1y sink in. She wanted to send all her grandchildren. 1 went in the mid-eighties with my godmother and my cousins. 1 did not have tears in my eyes when the plane landed in Rma. At least I don't Mink I did. At hat point you still had to be part of a tour group. We were there for ten days, and we stayed in a hotel and we did the relatives thing. Both my parents have quite a few relatives - not very close but people they always kept in touch with- And the best experiance was with a family of three generations - a grandmother and lime children who lived in a little house near the sea. We played basketball and we walked on the beach. They made us eat too much, but it was generally more relaxed. Almost everywhere else the conversation was constantly comparing this and that, and prices, and you do this and we do that, and not comfortableeThere wasn? a lot of trine, and almost ail the time I was nlith somebodl, and so I didn'l realiy get much of a sense for myself of wbat things are like there. (IngrTda)
llga was one of those politically active youth who was not granted entry visas to Latvia until 1989. She had participated in the Madrid Conference in the fall of 1980.
After Madrid, I ran for the LNJAK executive... This was all new for me because I hadn? been very aware of what LNJAK was all about before going to Spain. It seems that the Madrid business prevented many of us from getting into Latvia for years and years. I was denied a visa seven times. I didn Y get one until December of 1989. 1 was even denied a visa as late as September of 1989 during the era of "glasnost5 I couldn? get over it. Apparently Dzimtenes Balss (a newspaper devoted to anti-exile propaganda in Latvia at he time) had been of reports of how those people who had caused trouble in Madrid would never be allowed into Latvia. But by the time I first applied, I no longer knew what the problem was because I was doing and 'guilty" of so many things: I had sewed as president of the Latvian Youth Association in Canada (LNJAK) and was involved in a broad range of activities in the Latvian wmmunrty.. ..(Ilga)
Both MBra and Valeska went to Latvia for the first time during the post glasnost era.
Man's first visit to Latvia took place in 1990. It was just an extension of my travels through Europe. 1 had not given this trip any thought, and I did not think of it as really significant, like it might have been for others going to Latvia for the first time. The first time I went to Latvia a whole new world opened for me. Everything that I had ewperienced growing up, the entire Latvian rigmarole that I went through my entire life had meaning. As soon as I anived in Riga, it was already very strange, I felt really comfortable here. I think fhat it was the first time in my life that I felt that I have a strange connection to a place. During my first trip I was really taken with the whole country. Riga as a place was a symbol for me. We were supposed to stay for two weeks, and everything started to happen in a very quick tempo. I met many people, and it was such a wonderful experience, that before the first week was over, I knew that I had to stay longer. Fortunately, we were able to extend our stay to two months. Even after the fwo months I was not ready to leave, but since I had to retum home to finish school and so on, I decided before I even left Latvia, that I was going to return hem for an extended period of time. I wanted to retum to mntinue to develop and explore the friendships that I had started, I did not just want to leave them.
... I had the sense that I would like to stay indefinitely, but I knew that from a practiwl point of view that might not be possible, so I bought a six month plane ticket. When I returned to Latvia a year and a half later, my goal tumed into 'how can I stay here beyond the six months?! That was what I fueled myself into, and basicall , 1 lucked out - circumstances and people -- and I got the opportunity to stay in Latvia. bra) Valeska's first contacts with the homeland came during the early 1970s when she was attending high school in Muenster, however, her first visit to Latvia came twenty years later in
West Gennany is closer to Latvia, and we definitely became more aware political&. It was the first time I met Latvians from Latvia who were my age and that was really quite something. Also, visiting kriin, and seeing photographs of all the people who had tried to escape from Eastern Europe, kind of hit home the reality that I had relatives livng in Latvia and they were denied certain freedoms of speech and certain rights. When I was in grade thirieen I also parlicpated in a hunger strike for a month in solidarity with a family who was trying to get out of Latvia and who started a hunger strike there. These experiences in Europe brought certain political realities closer to home and it expanded my whole experience of being Latvian. What was interesting for me was when I looked at my parents' photo albums and saw photographs of people in Latvia, saw photographs of my faher [in Latvia]. 1 guss what ties you to a place even more is the fact that I recognized the places in the photographs I remember from those photo albums when I actually went to Labia and stood in those same places. Going to those same places is what to me made some of the most profound connecfions- (Valeska)
Many people have commented on how the first trip to Latvia is to visit the place, and a retum visit is to reconnect with people. Since the renewal of Latvia's independence, however. these initial contacts are increasingly more often followed by goal oriented activity in Latvia. for example. business ventures and other types of work opportunities, teaching commitments. redaiming family properties and property management, seminars, Song Festivals and other cultural events. Now that Latvia is once again independent. people are also choosing to live there for various reasons.
I'm 39 years old. And what I've really done in the past year is totally reevaluate my life and make decisions pertaining to it. But I knew that if I don't go to Latvia now, I never ~171, and I really donY want to be stuck in a situation of "what if." down the road. I truly have the means to do so now, and I'm doing it; it's ve right now. I feel it really is now or never, and I'm sore it will be a big change. But such is 1-7 e. I lived in Prague right after it became independent. It was really blossoming and I think that's what FTga is now starting to get into. A's on one hand frustrating but on the other hand incredibly exciting, absolutely incredibly exhilarating, challenging, interesting. If nothing else. I hope IIlearn Russian in the process and I will have a good story to tell in two years' time. I think after Wo years, you either how that you're going to stay or not. I'm going there whole-heatted'lj, and I would like to be able to stay there, and I hope that works out, but I'm just saying that if I don? like it that IVe given myself the freedom to come back. (Laimdota) During my first trip to Latvia I was really taken with the whole country. Rfga as a place was a symbol for me. When I first returned here, and I looked around me and realized that I was living in Riga, and what all of that had meant in my life and my parents' lives and my grandparents' lives, and that I am completing the circle. The thought of living in R@a seemed like an amazing wonder. Now I only feel that way on rare occasions. Maybe its because I live here, and I know that I can stay for a while, that it doesn't seem so exotic anymore. If's beaming familiar, and anything that becomes familiar loses its cham. Other things become more interesting. You bemepart of everyday life here. You're no longer a transient factoc you are part of the crowd or the scene or whatever. You become more permanent here, and people begin to count on your being here. But l also think that some people still distance themselves from foreigners because they know that they will leave. This plays an important role in herelationships between foreigners and local people. (Mh) So that's another relationship I have to Canada, I know that I won Y stay here; I have to move on somewhere else. Where that somewhere else might be is not dear. &ing in Latvia, not just because it3 Latvia, but maybe because, looking at it in ternof a place where there 3 history, and hat3 visually very stimulating and thought provoking to me, and that just started pulling something out in me; I don? know what it was. I want more of that When I was over there I felt a passion. I felt I was more alive in terms of feeling. I fett a passion. When you're facing extremes, when you're living in a system that has more anarchy, somehow it wakes you up. Life feels more real: I can taste it, feel it, smell it more. (Valeska)
Another aspect that is impossible to avoid when talking about Latvia. is the toll that ffty years of Soviet Occupation has taken on the people, Tauta, and the country. This is another theme that weaves throughout our narratives and stones, and complicates east-west relations both on interpersonal and public levels.
I was also struck by how lime was changing in terms of people's attitudes. Although there are many hardworking, decent people in Latvia, as a society, they are still deeply affected by fiw years of Soviet oppression. This has made a psychologicallly devastating impact on the work ethic (which we in the West used to equate with the essence of being Latvian), attitudes. values, and morals. For example, many workers who used to feel that they had the right to cheat and steal from the government, because they were not proper@remunerated for their work. continue this behaviour in the developing market economy. These problems exist at all levels of society, and make the process of democrabiation very difficult. Rising crime rates and the highly visible presence of the Mafia are also frightening. (IIze)
There's a deep desire within me to find a wa to work with younger people. I think that, Latvian or not, the most devastating result o! the communist era is what's happened to children's minds, to children 3 sense of self, particularly young girls, but the young boys as well. Their idols now are criminals, boys with shaved heads, because they have cars and stereos and they have perceived power- Intellectual values are almost worth zero here; they're definitely tucked away in the basement. I need to find a way to spend time with one of my god children here - he's a bright young boy - to at least give him a sense of how it can be different: "Yes,you can have material values and a very well situated material life but there are cultural values as well. " (Laimdota)
Another minus is that even though the community becomes more familiar to you, you also become more aware of the absurdity, and how crippling it was to live in the Soviet system. It's infuriating, but you can't do anything about it, and that is extremely fmstrating. It is very difficult to get around it, you're powerless to change anything because you're talkr'ng about fifty years of deep seated cmp. My theory is that our parents' generation in Latvia will survive because they were influenced by their parents' thinking from the pre- W. W-I1Independence years, and children and teenagers will probably cope okay because they're growing up with a Western influence. I'm really concerned about people who are from my generation, they're a lost generation and 1 don? know bow they will came through this. They are sandwiched between two worlds, and it's a pretty bad position to be in- Many are not educated, and if they are educated, it's not the kind of education that WN hold up in a Western standard society. Tney are aware of tbis, and they seem quite helpless and apathetic. If you spend time with them, you get caught up in it too, and get more cynical. You can laugh about it, but you also know that that will not solve these serious problems. (MZra)
Our relationships with Latvia are also influenced by where we choose to live. as well as by our experiences, perceptions. and perspectives. Laimdota and MBra deal with the reality of life in the homeland on a daily basis. Their focus is largely on how they live their lives in that context, and what they come into contact with at interpersonal. wok-related, societal. economic and polif cal levels. Valeska, by spending up to six months at a ti me in Latvia over the past five years, reflects on changes in her own attitudes toward people in the homeland with each subsequent encounter. In recent years her wok there has brought her into contact with a diverse group of young people. These contacts and her own personal explorations of her own inherited history are reflected in her perspective on the homeland. Ilga's focus is concentrated on her interests in folklore and relationships with like-minded people, as well as, on explorations of future opportunities in this field in Latvia.
I feel like I've aged, not so much physically as spiritually. ILe been feeling that I haven? yet become the person I'd like to be. I thought that perhaps I can force myself to pursue the things that I really want to pursue more here. l thought that I might have a better chance at battiing that for myself here than in Canada. Here I have the freedom to be on my own, to just be me. My family is not here, and neither are my friends who know me inside out. So I have this feeling that if I'm going to do something with my life, 1 have a good opportunity to get started here. I'm not talking about building a career or something, 1 mean it more holistical/y, in terms of becoming the person that I'd like to be. It is easy to get sidetracked though, and that is the problem that I'm facing right now. In the beginning there was depression, a time of feeling emptiness and loss, then for a while you just felt good being par? of the social network, and then you get a liftle bit jaded (whim is where I'm probably at now). But then you have to talk yourself into doing something concrete here (which is what I want), I mean something that is besides my work. If I am not able to do that, then I feel that I should leave Latvia. (MBra) Ideologically, Latvia, to be Latvian, doesn? need to be defined for me - it is. Any definitions of what it is - I think that this nation will go through much more of a search in the near Mure to define what that really means. But when you live here - it just is, that's all there is to it. I have this deep desire to be able to raise the quality of probably anything in the mlm of wlture thah around me and to do things well. As a matter of fact, from this intewew I go direct& to a meeting of a ceflain sub-committee of tbe rebuilding of ihe opera as to how to do tenders for restaurants and stores and that kind of things, and we're all exiled Latvians doing it, young exiled Latvians. (Laimdota) There's also the sense that we're not really that desirable in Latvia, which is a message that's been filtering over for a while now. They keep saying you can? be red Latvians if you lived over here [in CanadaJn/respond by saying lhab not true, and that it is up to me to define who I am. But in the end. there's the sense that maybe they're right, and I didn't much like it. .. . Everybody isn 't like ihat There are people who are very welcoming in Latvia, especially those involved in folk culhrre. Because I've been developing such an intense interest in folklore I thought that, if I'm going to do it as more than just a hobby, then that would be the place to be. (Ilga)
As fme goes on, a clearer awareness of difference emerges with respect to how those from the West differ from Latvians in the homeland; of how we are perceived and why. It has to do with values. with who we are and who they are as individuals.
I realzed that by photographing windows. it was perhaps a subconscious longing for a notion of home, but forever on the outside. 1 still feel that about going to klvia, I will never be accepted there. If this matters to me: !will never be accepted there as a Latvian; for them. over there. I'm always a foreigner. So this time over there I felt like I was outside. 1 was standing outside he window, I was not quite allowed in. Also, of course, in many situations, 1 was allowed in. But again, 1 still felt, many times, like a foreigner, like an outsider. (Valeska)
In Europe, particularly in Germany, there is a good definition between the east and the west; you have the phenomenon in German that people always divided themselves linguistical/y between the "Wessies" and the "Ossies": the "ones from the west" and the "ones from the east"; and that was prior to the wall falling down. Now in Geman, there's also another thing, and that is a "Besser wissef': someone who knows better. "smm alec" is what the word implies and is commonly used in the German language. Now you will often hear of the "Besser-wessie" which is almost a derogatory term imply. that this person is, you know, a "smart ass" from the west. a know-it-all from the west. #is scenario is playing itself all across the East, whether it be Czechoslovakia or Poland or for that matter in the Baltic and obviously into Russia. Any westemer going over there -- unless he or she is totally naive - should know that from the very beginning nine times out of ten you will be looked upon as the "Besser-wessi". Like me. (Laimdota)
The fact is relationships are changing. It suddenly dawned on me that the real difrence between going there as "ossie-wessie" is in the framework the lsraelis have by appwing the term "sabra" - you are either are "sabra" or not, and "sabra" is he or she who was born in lhat country and grew up there. And if you're not "sabra: if you're a Jew who's born in Canada and grew up there, then you don't really ever belong to lsrael ever, ever. ever, no matter where you come from, even if you move to lsrael and stay there. So "sabra" in Latvian is like "saveje". I think that in the post-Soviet world it's very much "sabra" and the others, no matter how much you want to ignore that. We are not Y~abra: At the same time, I am very happy that I am not like a local Latvian, that I have had the grace, luck and honour to have grown up in Canada and Europe. Identity is made up of many parts? ethnicity being one of them. And as the ethnic group's sense of self changes, so does one's seK I am as Canadian now as I am Latvian. (Laimdota)
..Another [Canadiw here organized an evening and invited all the Latvian Canadians to his house. He had a wonderful sign pasted on his door for everybow to sign and it was Wmdenieki Ttimd#' - the exiles in exile - which I think is probably the best definition of what it's like here. One of the most interesting aspects is the one of definition of national, definition of self. And I am sure that I speak in the name of most emigre Latvians dovecome here. First of all, I don? think that we will ever be accepted as pan of the society. We're not accepted as Latvians, really, (and I don't even know why I'm crying) and we never will be, and in parentheses, Thank God, because I wouldn't want to be seen as one of them. (Laimdota)
But not everyone feels this kind of alienation. MBra became very involved with local
Latvian friends when she moved to Latvia. These new friends helped her gain better insights about life in Latvia and function more effectively as a member of the community.
The more time I spend here, the more I become involved in every day life, and the deeper my friendships become. I'm beginning to feel more connected to the local Latvian social network, while at hesame time I'm distancing myself from foreigners and the diplomatic service community. I'm beginning to understand &at is going on here. But I think that that kind of understanding only comes wit71 having experienced a lot of shit. It was because I had to deal with all kmds of problems, and because it was really upsetting to me, that I started talking about them with my local friends. They gave me different insights into those situations. I slowly began to understand them better. I feel that this has been really key for me. Without that kind of understanding it'..really difficult to funmon as a real member of the community. (Mltra)
Judging from the participants' experiences, reconnecting with the homeland is a highly challenging undertaking. It raises the complex issues reflected in the last set of theme questions arising from the participants' stories of lives in a changing context.
10.6 Where Do I Belong? Where is Home?
The political changes that led to the renewal of Latvia's independence both allowed us the opportunity to and demanded of us to reevaluate the questions regarding where each of us belongs and where is home.
I had an interesting dinner with my unde. He became quite nostalgic that he hadn't been to Latvia yet, and he said "Cik noz7m@i, ki Tu kZi pimno mEsu 4imenes atgriezies &imtenZuor how monumental it is for our family that you are the first member of the hmiily that has decided to go back home. And I said, I am not going back home, I am going towards. I am going to a country that I know of but I'm not from there. And I think thats an issue for some of the pensioners "gong back home: but it isn't home any more. (Laimdota)
The question of where is home and where do I belong is difficult. Feelings of dislocation weave throughout the stories. For our generation a clear sense of home did not evolve. The community in exile with its traditions, memories, visions and hopes was taken for granted - that is just the way things were - a hodge podge not grounded in our personal experiential reality. lngrida found growing up in a community in exile confusing:
I think having grown up in a community that behaved as though this was not our home, and that tme home was somewhere else, and our true everything was somewfiere else, and at the same time that that somewhere else doesn't exist anymore, was really confusing. The Latvia of recent history was not acknowledged as wotfhy of consideration as a place that could be cunnected to. (I ngiida)
While in Lairndota's experience "I now know for sure that I am a cosmopolitan. A person at home in very many places, but without a single home anywhere". For the older generations' life in exile continued to be a recreation of the home they once knew. What to many may have seemed like incomprehensible selfless activity, was motivated by the hope of reclaiming and restoring this home from which they derived their energy. The participants have come to decisions about where they will live at this time. but in many ways the sense of belonging and the notion of where is home is fraught with ambivalence, and thus, feelings of dislocation continue.
People living in exile are sort of concentrating on their lives now. But their lives now are kind of really hollow, kind of connecting the lives now and this abstract future in this marvelous renewed old Latvia of the ancient past. They don't allow themselves to have a life now. It feels like it's been a huge waste of time. My parents donY seem to have much of a life, and something about the Epiphany that I was talking about earlier, saying that this place only demands your partidpation and has wasted time, or taken this time from me is the result. (Ingrida)
When I was in Latvia this last time, 1 did not feel Latvian and I did not feel Canadian. I feel very mud, not exiled, but very much, displaced. And maybe I feel that I did not feel Latvian, or I can't say "I'm a Laivian artist" or a Canadian artist; I very much feel like Valeska now, without any kind of framework, because the moment that I say oh, I'm LaMan, certain boundaries and definitions are imposed on me that I feel do not apply to me; so now more than ever; I feel that I cannot attach myself to any identrty: 1 cannot say that I'm a Latvian-Canadian, I cannot say that I'm Latvian or Canadian; what feels right now is to say I'm Valeska, I'm just Valeska and that's it, thafs it. And that came through redly strongly. (Valeski)
For firs and Laimdota the search for home has led to a long-term move to Latvia. For
Valeska at this time that has meant alternating for extended periods of time between Latvia and
Canada llga finds herself intimately connected with Latvia in spirit. at this time, while remaining in Canada, but the future always holds the possibility of living in Latvia. After considering the possibility of living in Latvia, lngrida has realized that she needs to establish her life in Canada.
At this time in my life raising small children, I feel strongly grounded in Canada, although my thoughts and interests remain open to personal and professional connections with Latvia-
Thus, the answer to the question 'where do I belong?" is not simply determined by an abstract notion of ethnic identification. For most of us both doors remain open. The path we follow is limited by personal choices and circumstances in tens of the degree of connection that we desire to form and maintain with Latvia, and what these connections mean. In talking about ethnic sMf, it's sort of contradictory, because I have no problem knowing that I feel definitelyMat I'm Latvian and definitely that I'm Canadian. That's not a huge conflict. I think it used to be confusing because I wasn't sure what being Latvian was supposed to be. (IngrTda)
As long as the issue of choice remains actual, however, challenges continue to surface. For example, the question of "reclaimingn our Latvian citizenship was an issue for both lngrida and myself at the time of the interviews. I had been grappling with this issue at the time that I was interviewing lngrida, and it was a topic that we explored. The conflicts surrounding this issue surfaced in my own story.
When the opportunity to become a Latvian citizen first arose in 1993,l was pretty sure that I was not interested. There seemed to be such a heavy push to do it in connection with the elections in Lakia, i.e. the more of us - right-thinking Westerners - there are voting, the better Me chance of electing the right government. That idea was thoroughly objectionable b me - I was big on voting in the place where I live, and trying to live responsibly in my community. I think that because of m upbringing, I have a hard time with the idea of imposing my idea of what is rigK t onto othes. 1 cannot, however, deny that I have a selfish side. This summer (1995), when the word came out from Latvia #at it's now or never for dual citizenship in Latvia and Canada, there was much more talk about the possible membership of Latvia in the European Community. This possibility is attractive to me - so, yes, I sent in my application. Thwe are pretty strong cvntmdictory feelings to contain - I don't know that I've thought it through to its mndusion. (lngrida)
The question of where do I belong? came into focus for me during the spring of 1993 when we were offered the opportunity to 'reclaim" our Latvian citizenship. I felt reaUy tom and uncertiiln. It was a real conflict for me. Having to contemplate taking on Latvian citizenship made me even more aware of how strongly I identifed as a Canadian. This was very important to me. Being Canadian embraced for me everything that living in Canada stood for: birthplace, home, attitudes, values, human rights, experiencs, friends, educaiion, medical care, social mores, etc. Dual citizenship is in some ways simple during times of peace and stability, especially when my primary place of residence is in Canada, the more stable, safe and affluent of the two. At this point in time I feel that my primary citizenship is Canadian. Being Latvian is very central to and is a part of my core identity -- it has always molded and influenced my life and my choices. However, what seems to be coming to the surface for me at present, is what this means "being a Canadian who is a Latvian". While in Canada, I place or have placed m the past primary emphasis on "being Latvian". Outside of Canada, the primary emphasis is on "being a Canadian " and on "of Latvian origin " second. My relationship with Latvia has undergone changes. I am faced with the awareness that, in order to raise children who have positive and interesting experiences with being Latvian, I will have to provide on-goin interaction with a Latvia that I currently have some ambivalent feelings about. 7t lze)
After having lived in Latvia for more than four years, MHra has also found herself re- evaluating much of what initially drew her to move there.
Part of that original pull was not only the cham of living abroad, but of living abroad in a place with which I felt I had a great deal of emotional attachment to boot. The irony is that I now believe that this previous emotional attachment was instilled in me by my parents and grandparents, and by the Latvian society in exile as a whole, and was not realty mine. Perhaps only now, after actually having lived here IVe been able to form my very own emotional attachment to Latvia - one based on reality, not the abstract. (Mgra)
The question "Where is home?" remains a very poignant one for the participants in this study.
Somebociy asked me: here is home, and where's ?he house"? I think that my spirit is at home on a rock in Magnetawan on a lake where our cottage is. Home is also very much the friends that I have here in Canada. My spirit soars in Barcelona, since to me that city joins all I love in history, design, national consciousness and Yoie-de-vivre". Something in me probably feels most at home in Spain - I don? speak Spanish though, at least not well enough. (Laimdota) Latvia, a paR of it feels like home, a part of it doesn't, and probably never will. I believe I am one of ?he truest msmopolitans. So, where is home? Nowhere. I am a Taurus, and by the Chinese horoscope a horse. It's very important for a Taurus have four walls around you that are you=. For me that3 very true - and IVe been living out of suit cases now for two years, and I figure MI take me another year until I tnrly have a place to live where /'I!be permanent for a littte while. So, home's a difficult issue. (Laimdota) We had a cottage right by the Latvian summer camp. grandmother spent the whole summer at the cottage, so whether there was camp or not we were there. My parents came on the weekends. There was definitely a feeling of community around the camp and the cottages-I went there this summer, and it was just really nice, the smell and evegtthing was really familiar, the sense of having grown up there. If I had to choose a place to call my ahomeland",it would be there- Ekcept that now it's sad there - there is less of a feeling of community. (Ingfida) I once saw a book in the library wfitten by a schizophrenic and I think the title is "Oh God is There no Place on Earth for Me". But the title really speaks to me as well - where is my place, it's not over here and it3 not over there, where on earth is it?! I guess part of me envisioning myself in Latvia in a few years was that there was no room for a picture of myself staying here. I haven't liked what I've seen here in the Latvian community for quite a few years. And it's quite obvious that we're a wmmunity on the decline. 1 know I can look at this in two ways: I can say (like many others do) "oh well, you know fRy years, we've done really well in fifty years, what more can you expect?". Intellectually I can say that very calmly, but when I have to think of that in terns of myself, my childhood, my teachers and people I've known, and some of whom I have a great deal of affection for, the feeling that it3 just slipping away is devastating. 1 suspect that if we do pack up and go to Latvia, if fhis feeling of loss of community doesnY somehow get resolved, it will interfere with me continuing my life elsewhere. I certainly think that there is a need to come to terms with it, that this is happening. (Ilga) Before I thought a lot about if and when I should return from Latvia, and I don't really find myself fhinking about that much any more. The fact is that I live in Latvia and work here, and although there are still moments when I wish I was back in Canada, I certainly don t plan to go back on a permanent basis in the near future- If I get tired of it all, 1'11 go back. When you live in Latvia you don? really look into the future; I think that goes for both locals and foreigners, that you just live on a day to day basis. As long as I feel comfortable and I'm enjoying myself, I'll stay. When I feel like my patience is running out, or when circumstances are just getiing to be where there's more negative than positive in my Me, then 1'11 seriously consider moving somewhere else. (Msra) For me home is probably within myself, doing the things I do. Any place I go I create a physical home out of that. When I go to Latvia I fix up my little room and put up my photographs, and that's my home. When I go elsewhere there3 my home, so it's a physical space. Home is ahtvays changing. Home? Home is friends. Home, again, for me is acceptance and understanding and a love, so it comes down to people and relationships. And again, place in me world, for me it's doing what I'm doing and feeling rounded and that seems to be the right place to be. And where that wiN be in the bture, I fave no idea. (Valeska) At the ti me when I began this research project, I found myself on a quest to find the meaning of my own experiences, and to realign my life to the changing context I felt upheaval and displacement when our community in exile, my homeland, was in need of redefinition.
Through these years, however, I have resolved these issues for now. I feel very grounded in
Canada. this is my home. My Latvian roots continue to be very important to me and my family.
Now my questions focus on what the world will look like and be like for my children, and what their experience of being Latvian and being Canadian will be. As I write these words, I think of my two and a half year old son Emils Markus and my daughter Marisa Krisfina who will be six months old tomonow. I am just beginning this next leg of my journey. In many ways this captures the essence of our questions for the future, our own and the next generations'. Chapter Eleven
Interpretation of Lives in Changing Contexts
I have lived that moment of the scatten'ng of the people that in other times and other places, in the nations of othe~,becomes a time of gathering. Gatherings of wles and em@r& and refugees, gathering on the edge of Yoreign' cultures; gathering at the frontiers; gatherings in the ghettos or cafes of city centres; gadhering in the half--line,hat-light of foreign tongues, or in the unmyfluency of anoaets language; gathenng the s@ns of approval and acceptance, degrees? discou~ses,disciplines; gathering the memories of underdevelopment, of other worlds lived retroactively; gathering the past in a ritual of revival; gathenng the present.. .- Homi K. Bhabha, DissemiNation: time, narrative, and the margins of the modem world (1990, p. 291)
It may be that writers in my position, exiles or emigrants or expatriates, are haunted by some sense of loss, some urge to reclaim, to look back, even at the risk of being mutated into piliars of salt. But if we do look back, we must also do so in the hodedge... that we will not be capable of reclaiming predsel the thing that was lost; that we wll, in short, create fictions, not actual cities or vilY ages, but invisible ones, imaginary homelands, Indias of the mind. Salman Rushdie. Imaginary Homelands (1 991)
Bhabha's words stir up images which reflect fragments of the experience of living in exile. Rushdie's comments also resonate with some of the central issues which arose during the interpretive process. What is our relationship to Me homeland, hecommunity in exile, and to Canada, our native land, in this time of change? What have we inherited? What have we imagined? What are we trying to reclaim? What have we lost? What have we gained? Where is our home?
The life histories told by the women about their experiences in growing up Latvian, the context within which these were embedded, and the uncovering of Me challenges that being Latvian poses contribute to the understanding of the unfolding story of their lives. The stories presented in the previous chapters inform the unfolding story of lives in a changing context, which we as individuals and as a community-in-exile, now no-longer-in-exile, are in Me process of reevaluating. As the stones illustrate, there are many individual challenges and renegotiations. The meaning that individuals make of the changing social, political, historical and cultural context in relation to their individual life stories, how the community in exile, and Latvia impacts on our sense of self and on the choices that we make as we continue our life's journey.
In the process of telling stories over time, most of us explored the meaning and direction of our lives beyond the ethnic experiences. In reacti'on to the emerging awareness as well as the new opportunities in the wake of recent social-political changes beginning with glasnost, Latvia's regained independence, and the ongoing redefinition of our communities in exile. we have found ourselves renegotiating our sense of who we are as individuals, and as people of Latvian origin. As we are facing new challenges and choices we are poignanUy confronted with questions of belonging and, ultimately, home. The reevaluation of our lives in changing contexts is coloured not only by the exhilaration of regaining our dream of Independent Latvia but also the pain of disillusionment in discovering the difference between the idealized and the real Latvia after fifty years of separation. At this same time we are also facing the imminent loss of our community in exile due to assimilation and attrition.
The purpose of this chapter is to reexamine the more universal collective themes that emerge from the stories, and to interpret these from the broader perspective of adaptation to the changing context. The universal themes that emerge are: Inherited history; Us and them; and Losses and gains.
11.I Inherited History
A nation is a soul, a spiritual principle. Two things, which in truth are but one, constitute this soul or spiritual pnnaple. One lies in the past, one in the present. One is the possession in common of a rich legacy of memories; the other is present-day consent, the desire to live together, the will to perpetuate the value of the heritage that one has received in an undivided form... Ernest Renan, What is a nation? (1 990, p- 19) Not mntent with just making a new life for themselves in their new countries - a quite normal and jus~ablechoice of 'gong uu3Lh the cunent, " these people chose to struggle @againstthe went'' by remaining true to the ideals which forced them to flee their native country. This meant, first of all. trying to presewe their language and their culture while submitted to the increasing threat of assimilation into the majority cultures surroundng ihem. It also meant trying to remind a mostly indflerent Western world about the illegal occupation of Latvia and the other two Baltic States, and to keep faith h the eventual liberation of these countries despite the continuing death grip of Soviet power over them. Vaira yis-Freibergs, Against the Current (1993, p. 25 1)
The theme of inheriting history is powerful for our generation. Our lives have been strongly influenced by our familial, cultural. and political histories. Sebris (1994, 1995), in her narrative research work with sibling pairs of first generation Latvian-American immigrants, our parents' generation, explored the reconstruction of childhood memories of their wartime experiences and of leaving Latvia in 1944. These narratives revealed glimpses of my generation's inherited history and provided an insight in how "narratives function in making sense of lived experience, in the creation of narrative identity, and in symbolizing emotionality" (Sebris, 1994). Nesaule's (1995) autobiographical fiction A Woman in Amber dramatically illustrates the impact of wartime memories on lives. Why tell the story now so many years after World War /I? In all wars the shelling eventually stops, most wounds heal. memories fade. But wartime terror is only the beginning of stories. (Agate Nesaule, 1995, p. viii)
Nesaule's story also resonates w*th the struggle to uncover, come to terms with, and break the cycle of inherited history. Her story mirrors that of our parents' generation, the silent generation, which has not resolved the pain, loss, and mourning of their forced immigration experience, leaving their homes and families, being displaced persons, and experiencing the horror, uncertainty, pain, and terror of W-W-II.The conscious and unconscious emotional struggles that continue to be evoked by these experiences influence inter-generational relationships, and thus form part of our inherited history.
Kotre's (1984) life history explorations of generativity in his book "Outliving the Self"' provide an interesting lens through which to view the theme of inherited history. What motivates people to do what they do: what one passes on knowingly and why; what one passes on unknowingly; how this impacts on a community and future generations. He also alludes to the hidden legaaes that impinge on future generations.
(The repressions that I focused on were inter enerational silences that led to hidden legacies) Though one culture was le8 for another, however, culture itself was never escaped. Individuals kept improving the tFt between themselves and their cuhres by entering new ones, renovating existing ones, or changing themselves. During their generative episodes, they maintained a culture connection, by which I mean an inner link to a collective symbol system. (p. 268)
The theme of inheriting history has a powerful impact on our people on both sides of the Latvian border- Inherited histoly surfaces implicitly or explicitly in each story. The dislocation, the Soviet invasion and post-W.W.11 occupation of Latvian, the family separations, broken dreams, losses and guilt fuelled immigrants' commitment to the community in exile mission to regain independence. This mission became the political raison d'gtre for the continued existence, and influenced our sense of belonging to the community and our relationship to Latvia.
The theme of inherited history also surfaced implicitly at a more universal level in that it is also our shared history as individuals, as a people, tauta, as an independent nation pre W.W.11, and as a community in exile. It is part of what can bring us together, allow us to feel an immediate connection at a deeper level, and make the meaning of our shared experience understood. At the same time, it is also part of what has separated many of us from our compatriots in Latvia, what has prevented us from understanding and respecting each other, what feeds many of the us and them conflicts that arose in the community and in the encounters with Latvia alluded to in the narratives. It is also part of what made us feel different growing up as Latvian-Canadians in Canadian society. In fact, our inherited history is the source of most of the us and them dynamics that were played out in the community in exile, as well as in our relationships with Latvia. 11.2 Us and Them
... the psychology of exile within Latvian communities in the Western world - scattered groups of extremely small size, destined to spend their lives as invisble minorities among another, dominant mlture. mile is practiwly synonymous with loss, separation. anguish and suffering, not to mention the heavy butden of moral responsibility toward all Maeleft behind in the old country. The need to keep faith and to maintain one's sense of self-respect through prese~ngthe language, culture and ideologiical values of the native country makes for strong pressure toward cunfotmity and conservatism and for suspicion and intolerance towards anyone within one's own community who does not appear to follow to the letter the social dictates of the group. Vaira Ws-Freibergs, Against the Current (1993, pp. 252-253)
fiile is sometimes better than staying behind or not getting out but only sometimes. Because nothing is secure. Exie is a jealous state. What you achieve is precisely what you have no wish to share, and it is in the drawing of lines around you and your compaMots ?hatthe least attractive aspects of being in exile emerge: an exaggerated sense of roup solidarity, and a passionate hostility to outsiders. even those who may in f d be in the same predicament as you. Edward Said, Reflections on EXile. (1 990, p. 360).
Vibis-F reibergs (1993) and Said (1990) point to differing attitudes and problematic group dynamics Mat can emerge from a position of displacement, vulnerability, and loss which accompanies living in exile. The issue of us and them has emerged again and again in various forms in the stories. Us and them points to differing attitudes, values, viewpoints, political ideologies, as well as ideological struggles, inter-generational rifts. a tendency toward cliquishness and in-fighting among the members of Latvian communities abroad, and between Latvians from Me West and the homeland-
Many of the us and them references were made to the differing social-political viewpoints held in the Latvian community in exile during the Soviet occupation years, with troubling issues surfacing during the 1970s and 1980s for the participants in this study. Several writers (Bulmanis, 1996; Carpenter, 1992; Miezitis 8 Dreifelds, 1998; Wps-Freibergs, 1993) have documented the sources of such differing viewpoints and discussed their impact on the life of the communities in exile. The intense polarization in the 1970s around the issue of cultural contacts with Latvia was particularly divisive for the Toronto community and made a strong impact on the partidpants in this study during their adolescence.
One way of viewing these ideological and inter-generational rifts within the Latvian communities abroad is through the lens of lsajiw's (1975) model of ethnic identity maintenance. lsajiw (1975) describes three patterns: (1 ) transplantation of the old culture and institutions. represented by those who strive to maintain the status quo; (2) rebellion, against the status quo, more characteristic of members of the second generation; and (3) return or rediscovery of deeper cultural values and their meaning in the lives of later generations of immigrants. In the Latvian community the us and them conflicts with the older generation were partly due to their commitment to transplant and maintain predominantly the culture and institutions of the 1930s pre-W.W.11 Independent Latvia without adapting to the new context. The ideological struggles between the conservative and liberal groups of our parents' generation could be interpreted as the liberal's rebellion against the transplantation pattern; the second generation participants in this study, who are seeking to rediscover the meaning and value of their Latvian roots and reevaluate where they belong, represent the third pattern.
Since the regaining of Latvia's independence in 1991, the us and them references often allude to the various conflicts experienced between Latvians in the West and those in Latvia. When Western Latvians began to travel to Latvia (some as early as the 1960s, to visit family members who stayed behind, while others as late as the late 1980s and early 1990s in the more open era of glasnoso, they experienced strong reactions to these initial contacts and reconnections with their people in the homeland. Many reported an exhilarating feeling of connection to their Taota . their people, in Latvia who usually anticipated and welcomed their visits. However, as the Eastern boarders became more relaxed, and contacts became more frequent and complex extending, beyond the family visits and tourism, to joint business ventures, academic exchanges, encounters between politicians and people in leadership positions from both sides, other issues began to emerge. There was a brief honeymoon period when we all felt like one people, culminating in a sense of euphoria as we were showered with flowers and urged to return to the homeland during the Song Festival parade through the streets of Riga in 1990. Carpentee (1 992) interpretation of the accounts gathered from exile and native Latvl-ans illustrating the reactions to our joint participation in the 1990 Song Festival prior to Latvia's independence foreshadows the emergence of and Me underlying complexity of many us and them issues which continue to arise as we are attempting to collaborate in various spheres of endeavour. Carpenter (1992) observes that "participation in the 1990 song festival resulted in congruences, confirmations, ambiguities, and dissonancesn(p. 7). The festival experience created an illusion or temporary experience of oneness as a people, one Tauta, however, in the years that followed. as people actually began to move back to Latvia to live and work. to set up joint business ventures and to redaim their properties, the tide began to tum as value conflicts and other power issues began to surface. Thus, us and them also refers to the diverse previous experiences and the conflicting values and ideologies of Western Latvians now living in Latvia and local ktvians. Carpenter (1 992) concluded that ?he dress rehearsal continues" (p. 19) in the relations between native and exile Latvians long after the end of the song festival, and this still holds tnre today, almost a decade iater.
The us and them conflicts between Latvians abroad and their peers in the homeland mirror the legacy of fifty years apart. The emerging differences in self-perceptions and self-identification were foreshadowed by several research studies. For example, PU tniqg (1981 ) studied ethnic identification among second generation Australians and North Americans of Latvian origin dun'ng Me late 1970s by measuring the attitudes and values of eUlnic maintainers, selected among the active members in the Latvian communities in exile at that time. He found that second generation ethnic maintainers perceived greater similarities with Latvians in Independent Latvia before W.W.11 and with Latvians "as they might be imagined to be at some point in the future should Latvia again become politically independent" (~utni~s,1981, p. 108). In contrast, Latvians in Latvia in the 1970s were perceived as being different from the Latvians in the West and were not identified with. In that same study putnip5 also reported a positive identification with the inhabitants of the participantsJhost countries. The present study suggests that identification with the prevailing values of the host country may have strengthened after the reestablishment of Latvia's independence. This conwrs with Feuewergets (1991) findings of a stronger identity with the host country after a visit to the homeland. The second generation Latvian-Canadian women in this study reported a rapprochement with the values, attitudes, and experiences of their Canadian upbringing. This heightened awareness seemed to become clearer for some with increasing exposure to tatvia and local Latvians. Thus, contact with Latvia has sharpened the awareness of who they are and what they value. but has also evoked feelings of ambivalence towards Latvians in the homeland due to the differences in behaviours and values.
Us and them attitudes reflect the feelings of diidence and ambivalence which emerged as a result of experiences with Latvians in the homeland who were unreliable and untrustworthy. On the other hand, recent emigrb and visitors from Latvia also tend to perceive Latvian-Canadians as unsupportiie and rejedi-ngtowards hem. It is likely that there are both conscious and unconscious responses that are continually being played out by insiders and outsiders from both sides of the border that contribute to the ambivalence and the divisive us and them dynamic.
The us and them feelings are also underscored by our different subjective cultures (Triandis, 1972). Of particular interest in the concept of subjective culture is the aspect of "language used by an ethnic group, since language is intimately connected with the way in which experience is interpreted and with the cognitive and affective categories which are used to conceptualize the world (Triandis, 1964, 1972)" (Albert and Triandis, 1985, p. 321).
During the past fifty years the Latvian language has evolved independently in Soviet Latvia and abroad. Furthermore, the different host country languages have strongly influenced Latvian language usage among Latvians in the West. Our understanding of words and concepts varies, and often although we use the same words, it feels as if we are talking past each other because of differences in associations. Communication in Latvia is especially challenged when attempts are made to introduce Western ideas, concepts, attitudes and values. Our perceptions of what constitutes genuine Latvian folklore are not always the same either. For example, entirely different folkdance traditions had evolved in Latvia and abroad during the period of Soviet occupation (Miezitis, 1991 ). The emotional connotation associated with traditional songs also differ. For example, one of the common Latvian fdk songs, Pi3 V@@i, ('Blow, Winds") had assumed a different symbolic meaning, Mat of the national anthem forbidden during Soviet occupation in Latvia.
The illusion of Lama as the symbolic home of our ancestral values such as the work ethic and our connection with and grounding in mother nature's natural cycles and rhythms. which many felt were an underlying foundation to "being Latviann, is also challenged by current realities. Fm years of Soviet rule has eroded the work ethic, and introduced careless industrialization which has resulted in a highly polluted environment. Since Independence, struggling to meet needs in the rapidly evolving market economy driven by capitalism, and having to face corruption and violence creates new challenges for the evolving Yree society" which has not fully embraced the values of democracy (Dreifelds, 1996).
Thus, the feelings of ambivalence in the relationships between Latvians from the homeland and the West may also symbolize the larger ambivalence that the community in exile feels toward the LaMa that they once lost and fought for and have now regained. Profound losses have been experienced by both sides at the personal, familial. and community levels. The changing situation in the homeland thus reawakens the sense of loss and guilt, and triggers and feeds these ambivalent feelings.
11.3 Losses and Gains
mile is strange compelling to ihink about but temBle to experience. It is the unhealable rift ?'orced between a human being and a native place, between the self and its true home: its essential sadness can never be sumounted. And while it is true that literature and history contain heroic, romantic, glorious, even triumphant episodes in an exile's life. these are no more than efforts meant to ovemme the cn'ppling sonow of estrangement. The achievements of exile are permanentiy undermined by the loss of something left behind forever. Edward Said, Reflecrions on Bile (1 990, p. 357).
The grief and mourning pmssthat the irnrnigant must ... work out is related to the old countfy, the new country, and the parts of the self attached to both of them. They most moum the loss of the known and meaningful experiences lived in the old country, and moum for the loss of theirimaginative knodedge of the unknown new country as an idealized container of fulfillment of wishes-thus the loss of the illusions. Ester Krimer, The Psychdogical Impact of immigration: An Experience of Change, Loss, and Gain (1 986)
The work of Edward Said (1990) provides another lens through which to view and reflect on the universal themes of inherited history, us and hem, and losses and gains as he explores issues related to the concepts of exile, marginalization, dislocation, and nationalism.
The issue of loss emerges in many layers. Our parents and grandparents lost their homeland and built a cornmunlty in exile, patterned after the social, educational, and cultural institutions of Independent Latvia, which in turn became home for our generation. The independence of Latvia creates new losses for Latvians in exile. As independence is regained, the memories of the pre WW I1 Independence and its loss, and the political raison d'gtre which fuelled the social and cultural as well as the political activities of the communities in exile for nearly fifty years are challenged by a new reality. The impact of losses surfaces at many levels, both conscious and unconscious. These losses are reflected in the women's stories, their queries about who they are, and where they belong, and what their children's Latvian experience will be like.
The psychological process of mouming the multiple losses that immigrants have to go through is thoroughly documented in Krimets (1986) work with recent South American immigrants to Canada. She found that We process of mouming is also central to the recovery of meaning, and is evoked by the feeling of loss related to the old country, the feeling of loss related to the new country, and a sense of loss of the self (identity)" (p. iii). This process applies to the older generation's loss of the homeland and struggle to integrate in the new cwntry Canada, and it also applies to our generation's loss of the Latvian community as we knew it growing up in Canada Furthermore, for those returning to the homeland once again a process of mourning the losses is triggered as is the struggle with integration in the new country Latvia.
The losses have been experienced differently by successive generations of immigrants. Our grandparents' generation was forced to leave behind their lives in Latvia during adulthood, this meant a loss of their homes, careers, families, hopes and achievements. For many it meant Mat upon arrival in the host country, they not only experienced the dislocation and loss of sodoeconomic status that most immigrants face, but for most their careers, social networks, and for some even nudear family ties were irretrievably broken. Many tried to recover their sense of identity and worth in part by building Latvian communities and devoting themselves to the maintenance of sodal-cuftuml life in their home away from home, and by their political commitment to regain independence for Latvia.
Although an independent Latvia was the positive outcome that we as a community in exile had been hoping and lobbying for, we never really expected to experience it as a reality in our own lifetimes. We were caught off guard in 1991 as our dream became true, literally overnight. The ambivalence and lack of readiness to embrace this reality suggests that we had in fact been fighting for a "lost dreamn, the fantasy of the once independent Latvia of the 1930s that our parents' generation was forced to leave behind as children and youth, an idealized Latvia that had been presented to our generation through the rose coloured glasses of selective memory, an imaginary homeland.
The women in this study grew up during the most vibrant and active years of the largest LaMan community life in exile. We too are now experiencing losses through the decline of Me community largely due to the passing of the first generation and the impact of assimilation as Latvian immigrants are entering the third generation in exile. Furthenore, the exodus to Latvia of many of the more progressive community and youth activists together with the loss of our political exile status foreshadows dramatic changes for many of us who continue to live here. It is a time of reawakening and reevaluating our Mure goals as individuals and as a community.
Thus, it is also a time of grieving, grieving for the decline of the community in the West as well as for the imaginary homeland, and the connecti-onthat many felt toward the idealized Latvia and what that connection represented. Latvia was the symbolic home for our tauta, roots, language, culture, folklore, and the values of our forefathers. As interactions with Latvia and Latvians in the homeland have become more normal and mundane, we are confronted with reality, and are forced to recognize our illusions. We find that perhaps the notion of tam, of one people on the two sides of the river Daugava, is not so simple after all. Carpenter's (1992) interpretation enlarges this perspective: In the course of life in the West, Latvia and Latvians hadbecome objectfified and commodified - imagined, not living Others, pack ed for consumption by those who remembered the homeland for those who dic? not. But the phrase, "Gandriz ka Latvija. " ralmost like Latvia~lsosuggests that the new experience perhaps remains more easily comprehended within the old frame of exile - as a projected or imaginedpia cs... (p. 7).
Having evolved as individuals and communities in many different places with different attitudes, values, and life experiences, we may not be able to fully accept our connection and commitment to our taufa beyond the symbolic level. These difficulties are reflected in the us and them dynamics referred to earlier-
Carpenter (1992) also observed that the Song Festival procession experience, where the native bystanders shouted "Home! Home! Come Homen ("M$L, mZjis, brauciet m@&!") to the exile Latvians, also prompted confusions evoking exiles to question "where am I and what is my relationship to this land?" (p. 14). These observations and reflections resonate with the experiences reported by the women in this study.
This is a time of change. Independence has created many new challenges as well as exacerbated existing ones, for both Latvians in the homeland and those who had been living in exile. It is easy to become entangled in the struggle and challenge that change presents, and to lose sight of the gains and hope for the continued existence of our nation. hope that was highly eroded by the legacy of fifty years of occupation and the active russification of Latvia. Despite the diiculties, Latvia's independence brings overwhelming gains. It brings political and cultuml freedom, hopes and opportunities. It brings new beginnings and new possibilities. To those of us longing to reconnect with our people, newly Independent Latvia opens its doors allowing us to spend as much time as we wish to become acquainted with and involved in the rebuilding of a new democratic homeland. We have a choice now to stay in Canada or to return to the land of our forefathers. Thus for many of us it also raises the poignant question - "where is home?". On the other hand, an Independent Latvia has perhaps brought experiences of dislocation more into focus for some, as even Latvia can never really be home; while for others it has served to clarify where home really is or at least where the home of our attitudes and values is.
In condusion, the universal themes of inherited history, us and them, and losses and gains discussed in this chapter offer lenses through which to explore and understand the conflids, struggles, challenges evoked by, as well as the more successful passages through, a period of social-political change. Understanding events against the backdrop of inherited histow, viewing conflicts in the context of us and them dynamics, and reevaluating situations, actions, reactions and interpersonal relationships in the light of losses and gains allows one to gain greater understanding and insight into our emotional reactions to and our interpretations of paticular events and experiences in our lives, and to view these from a broader perspective- Chapter Twelve
Revisiting the Study of Lives in Changing Contexts
The purpose of this chapter is to revisit the study of lives in changing contexts and to consider implications and future directions.
12.1 The Study of Lives in Changing Contexts
This study explored the impact of changing contexts on people's lives through the life history experiences of six second generation Latvian-Canadian women in the wake of the disintegration of the Soviet Union and Latvia's regained independence making the end of the Latvian community in exile.
The initial interviews with the women in this study began between August of 1992 and January 1994, and continued until the final postscripts were added in March 1998. This provided the opportunity to explore how a changing context impacted on lives over time during a five year period shortly after the regaining of Latvia's independence. It has been an arduous task to extract the essence of these accounts because the meaning of experiences continues to shift in ever changing contexts. At times it was very difficult to return to earlier texts because they no longer felt relevant or real to Me storyteller, while at other times, even though realities had changed and perspectives had shifted and grown, previous experiences and memories remained central to the story. To bring this process to completion has been challenging, because lives continue to be lived and stones continue to unfold. Thus, the stories presented in this study are a representation of our lives at the time that they were co-created.
The six women's stories regarding their experiences of growing up Latvian in Canada and how they have adapted their lives in changing contexts, presented in chapters four through nine, provided a rich tapestry of interconnected indiiidual narratives. The contextual analysis of the themes which emerged from these stories, presented in chapter ten, gave insights into the shared experiences of these women, illustrated the complexity of living in two or more cultures, and brought into focus the important role that familial, social. historical, political, cultural, and psychological contexts play in understanding lives. The common themes which emerged as the th reads that weaved together the women's stories were: Where I Come From and b& inherited Hisiory. Who Am I? What Does @BeingLatvian" Mean?. Leading a Double Life and the Awareness of Difference, Finding Place and Facing Me Challenges WRhin the Laman Community, My Fint Encounter With Latvia and My Relationship Wth Latvia Now. and Where Do i Belong? Where is Home?
The challenges posed by the changing context are documented through the individual stones and the common themes which emerge in the process of interpretation. The partidpants' stones focus on the individual issues that meup at this time for each woman, whereas the common or universal themes reflect the common issues and questions that arise in reaction to change, and the recurrent struggles that we all face as we try to adapt to new life circumstances. The universal themes of inherited history, us and them and of losses and gains are the threads that weave the tapestry of the life stories together; the threads that weave together the past, the present, and a possible future as the journey continues and the story unfolds. Interpretation of the personal meaning of experiences in context resonates with Brunets (1990) understanding of the meaning of acts through the exploration of intentional states, and Shwedets (1991 ) emphasis on meanings and intentions; that is "beliefs, desires, emotions. purposesn(p.74), "fears and fancies ... values and visionsn (p. 101 ).
Initially, in reviewing literature for this study, the focus was on exploring ethnicity. The most compelling explorations in this area were found in litemy works and narrative studies. Developmental and sodological theories by their nature did not capture the complexity of individuals' experiences since their focus was not on the impact of the contextual nature of these experiences and their meaning to the participants. The contextualized findings of the present study challenge the notions of a common meaning of ethnicity and predictable responses to changing contexts. Rather they resonate with Spenano's (1995) interpretations of ethnicity as an emergent and creative force. In his study on tracing the transformation of culture among the children of Italian immigrants, he focusses on the notion of "emergent ethnidty" which takes into account the fact that "ethnicity owes a great deal to both the continuity of preceding generations and to the larger contextual forces in society" (p. 58). Spezanno suggests that contemporary generations of Italians 'in their effom to adapt to a bicultural context, .... creatively evolve a new culture thrwgh times of both conflict and assimilation. loss and enrichmenr (p.58).
For the second generation Latvian-Canadian women in this study ethnicity has also been both an "emergent and creative forcen. a force Mat has led to Me creation of new institutions and new forms of cultural expression, as well as new ways of trying to reconnect to their ethnic roots in Canada and Latvl-a. This creative force also connects them to the cultural legacy of preceding generations. What is remarkable is the range of differences in life choices that the six women with intensive Latvian socialization experiences have made in this changing context What the varied unfolding stories suggest is not a predictable path according to a theory of developmental stages of ethnic identity such as Phinney (1989) has proposed, but rather it opens up complex patterns of individual responses to a changing context which reflect the interface between who one is, where one comes from, where one is at now, and what one's choices are for the future. These individual patterns resonate with Kotre's (1985) notion of moments of awareness in the re- interpretation of lives rather than developmental stages. Like a vocabulary of stages. a vocabulary of moments reflects a descriptive and explanatory strategy, not a definitive rendition of reality ..... Moments permit an examination of the syncrony between various dimensions in life .... But the major reason for recommending such a vocabulary is that it is truer to the complexity of actual lives. (pp. 263-264)
The changing soaal-historical context provokes a reevaluation of one's individual sense of self and belonging to the Latvian and Canadian communities in which these women have been socialized, a reevaluation which focuses on values and points to the losses and gains in the process of adaptation to change. For those of us who identified with the notion of living in exile. Latvia remained the symbolic home of our generation's ancestry, "roots", language, folklore. culture. It was where our tauta came from. For the community in exile, the notion of home was the idealized homeland, pre-WWll Latvia. In retrospect, the host countries which housed the communities in exile, Canada among them, were to some extent taken for granted. We lived in Canada, but we maintained the community in exile, and everything that it sustained (institutions, language, culture, traditions, history, tauta...) as the primary focus of our activities and loyalty. The result was that, for some members of my generation, a concrete and clear sense of home did not evolve. Life in an ever-changing community-in-exile-limbo seemed normal. Many of us became wanderers during our youth. always looking for the next opportunity to travel to yet another summer camp, 2X2 seminar, or youth congress.
The symbolic Latvia sustained our sense of identity and ethnic pursuits in the community in exile. The real Wachallenges us. The way people are and how they try to rebuild their country challenges our values and brings forth our identification with what we value in Canada. What does all that mean? Latvia remains the home of our ancestral roots; however, for many the West has become the real home for our immediate families, and our careers and our life goals.
Prior to beginning this research, I felt uneasy about undertaking a life history study. I was aware that embarking on this joumey meant becoming intimately connected with and committed to both the participants and the research process in the exploration of our lives and the co-creation of our stories. However, in the process of telling, co-creating, analyzing and interpreting these stories the importance of having lied experiences in common with the other participants and of understanding the complexity of the context for the stories facilitated the process and added to the depth of meaning that emerged. Also, my prior relationships with the women in this study allowed us to feel safe enough to embark on this highly personal and often challenging joumey.
The selection of participants in this study can be viewed as both a limitation and a strength. As is characteristic of life history work the number of participants was small. Viewed from a sodological perspective it was a homogeneous group of second generation Latvian-Canadian women who had had intensive Latvian family and community socialization experiences while growing up in the largest Latvian community in the West. They were fluent in Latvian which gave them easier access to both the Latvian communities in the West as well as contacts with Wia. They were all women of the same generation who grew up and participated in the highly active Toronto community thus providing Me opportunity to reexamine the same context from different women's perspectives. Hence, the current study did not explore the experiences. for example, of other generations. of those outside the mainstream, those who came from mixed ethnic background marriages and from families less involved in the Latvian community, those who do not speak Latvian, and those who have grown up in smaller Latvian communities. These are studies for the future. Issues regarding forming new families, relationships with spouses and raising of children were only briefly explored since only two of the partidpants were married, and the experiences of men in the Latvian community were not addressed in this study. The inter- generational issues relating to inherited history were explored from Me perspective of the women in this study. The voices of Latvians from the homeland were also not represented.
Some of the apparent limitations actually contribute to the strengths of this study. The relatively homogeneous sample of participants allowed Me researcher to take a fine gran perspective on issues, thus the focus on depth rather than breadth of exploration. The strength of this approach lies in the in-depth analysis of individual life histories in the familial. social. cultural, historical, political, and psychological contexts within which they are em bedded. The contextual analysis of individual experiences brings into focus what each individual brings to changing contexts and how that context feeds or limits the individuals at different times in their lives, for example, the interface of family expectations, self image, potential to actualize oneself in the context of the Latvian community and Latvia. Thus, the in-depth exploratory nature of this work allowed for a series of complex individual patterns of adaptation to change to emerge; while at the same time allowing us to get a glimpse of Me significant moments Mat resonate across the stories.
12.2 Implications and Future Directions
Not only are Latvians faced with a changing context, so too are people from other ethnic backgrounds. The rich individual stories show the variation in how people respond to change. In addition there are also more universal themes that emerge. These themes provide a lens through which others may interpret their experiences as they move through the process of adapting to a changing context The universal themes illustrate the legacy of inherited history, the multiple layers of us and Bern struggles and conflicts being played out in the West and with the homeland. and the powerful role that losses and gains play in intra- and inter-personal and societal relationships. These themes inform and provide a broader perspective for understanding personal struggles and challenges that arise in changing social-political times. These muld be seen as the undercurrents which add to the complexity of our perspectives and experiences as ethnic Canadians.
The findings in this study contribute to the perspective of cultural psychology (Bwner, 1990; Shweder, 1991) which calls for the need to locate and interpret the meaning of people's experiences in context. This study documents the fact that one's sense of ethnic identification is influenced by changing contexts. As the themes suggest, ethnic identity is not only shaped by familial and community influences, but it is also being constantly reevaluated in light of new life experiences.
Every question, answer and exploration opened up opportunities for further questions, answers and explorations. How will the lives of the women in this study have evolved in five or ten years? What will emerge as the common threads weaving together their stories? What tapestries would inter-generational story threads weave? What would emerge in the stories of Latvian men? What tapestries would these explorations reveal? What common threads tie together the perspectives and experiences of both genders? How do these changes and experiences impact on those who have not been to Latvia? On those who have not been involved in the Latvian community? On those who were not fluent in Latvian? On those who have grown up with little contact with the Latvian community in exile? What stories would these narratives uncover? These and other questions remain to be answered through in-depth explorations as well as larger scale research studies honouring the individual's experiences and the diversity in adaptation to change. Epilogue: Reflections on the Thesis Journey
During the past four and a half years I have been intensively involved in facilitating the emerging of six women's life stories. I felt extremely protective of the process of allowing the participants' stories that needed to be told to surface, and to give voice through their own words.
During this process I experienced a major shift in my understanding of what the research was telling me. This occurred in at least two different stages: first, as we the partidpants became aware that we were not just renegotiating our ethnic identity, but rather that we were reevaluating the meaning and didon of our lives in the wake of Latvia's newly regained independence, and that the ethnic aspect was one component of that This awareness emerged dun'ng Me story ce creation process and the subsequent dialogues with each partidpant regarding her story; second, as my own story negotiating a thesis; renegotiating identity took shape, I realized that the notion of renegotiation of ethnic identrty had been more my personal issue, and that there was a much broader issue that I was coming to tens with, that of unfolding lives in a changing context. This allowed me to open up the thesis story and resulted in the emergence of a new title Lives in Changing Contexts: A Life History Analysis of Latvian-Canadian Women's Stories about Being Latvian. The original We was Stories About Being Latvian: Renegotiation of Ethnic Identifiation Among Second Generation Latvian Canadian Women - A Life History Study.
As I am nearing the completion, the thesis process is becoming elusive. There is a sense of dosure that makes completing the thesis more purposeful, and in some ways easier yet more difficult in others. The purpose is to finish as soon as possible to complete my degree. It is easier now to reconnect with what others have written and how this relates to my work; however, it is becoming more difficult to recapture the process that I have been through, the journey that I have travelled. It is becoming harder to touch. feel, taste, and hear what I have spent so long exploring and carrying with me. It is slipping away. If I had to write anew what I have already written and rewritten so many times, I would not be able to do it anymore. The process feels elusive, like the depths of Jeffrey Lake at our cottage in Bancroft On some days the water is so dear and calm that it is possible to see to great depths. A fish leaps to catch a fly. and the water ripples, distorting that clarity for a moment, but then the calm returns. The wind blows and the waves cover the depths. The light reflects from the sky and masks what is underneath the surface, it changes and reveals the depths once again.
I stand on the 'steps" created by nature in the jagged rocky shore of our lake. The water feels cool on my feet. I know that I want to go in, but I antidpate the initial shock. the desire to swim quickly to circulate the blood to warm my body and restore equilibrium. Then I take the plunge, and after that moment of discomfort comes invigoration and exhilaration. Then I don't want to come out. I want to stay there.
The process has been overwhelming. I have ridden many intense waves, feeling that I am almost done, only to find myself out of the water and back on the shore of everyday life again. Once on dry land, diving back into the depths of this experience was always difficult. Preparing myself to once again expose myself to the vulnerabilities and rewards of these deep waters of self exploration and reflection was difficult, but once my mind was made up and the intention was dear, the experience was exhilarating and I was reluctant to come out again. I wished that I could stay in longer, go deeper, and swim farther. The cool water is refreshing on my skin, the mind feels super focused and acutely aware, the purpose and direction seems clear. Somehow with this clarity comes change in the surroundings and in my self, and the time comes to move on. REFERENCES
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von Rauch, G. (1974). The baMc states: The years of independence 19 1 7- 1940. Berkeley CA: University of California Press. Witherell, C. & Noddings, N. (1991 ). Stories lives tell: Nanafive and dialogue in education. New York NYLondon UK: Teachers College Press. Wolcott, H. F. (1994). Tmsforming qualitative data: Descriptiun, analysis, and interpretation. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage. Yow, V. R. (1994). Recoding oral history: A practid guide for social scientists. Thousand Oaks, CA: Sage Publications. Ziedonis, 1. (1978). EpiEnlas. (Volume I and II combined) Riga, Latvia: Liesrna. APPENDIX A PILOT INTERVIEW GUIDE: THEMES AND QUESTIONS
The purpose of the earlier interviews was to facilitate dialogue about peoples' experiences of living andlor worldng in Latvia. In taking about these experiences, it was anticipated that their meaning would begin to unfold and emerge.
A. Personal background
-Place and date of birth -Place of birth of dl family members. -Places of residence and length of time at each. -Age, religion, education, profession and/or education. -Family constitution, including extended family. Parents' country of origin. Parental values and attitudes. -Marital status of interviewee. Years of maniage. Nationality and citizenship of spouse. -Family in Canada, other countries, and Latvia. -Knowledge of Latvian and other languages prior to going to Lam-a. -Travel to other countries prior to and since this trip to Latvia.
6. Themes and questions specifically related to experience in Latvia
The questions below are phrased in the present tense. However, some people have returned from Latvia, and therefore the questions will be asked in the past tense.
-Motivation for going to Latvia. (Why did you choose to do this and who encouraged/supported you in your deasion?) -When was the decision to movdgo to Lahria made? -Was there any reason why you wanted to leave Canada? -What contacts did you have there before going? -Who and/or what made you want to staylretum to Latvia? -How long do you plan to stay? -How did your family and friends react to this decision? -Recollection of previous visits to Latvia (number of trips; length of stay(s); what you did there; what was the rneaning/significance of your experiences; what was gainednost; how things changed - positives and negatives)
What have you experienced in Latvia? What werdare you doing in Latvia? How do you spend your time? How didldo you cope with every day concerns, difficulties What are your relationships with people How does this compare with relationships with people in Canada -How accepted do you feel by people in Latvia? How does this compare with what you initially expected? -How and where do you refuel? -Do you feel that you have changed as a result of this experience? How?
-Exploration of the perceptions and impact of the experience in Latvia: (a) What did you anticipate - perceptions of Latvia and Latvians before going/moving to Latvia. (b) What was the reality that you found after arriving in Latvia. (c) Was there a reevaluation of these perceptions andlor change in perceptions of Latvia after living and working in Latvia. (d) Have there been any changes in perceptions of Canada? (e) How do you now view CanadiadAmerican attitudes and values? (f) Has the decision to livelwork in Latvia changed anything in your life? -How do you see yourself as being similar and different from Latvians in Latvia and Latvians here in North America? -What is important in your life now? -What are your future plans, goals and expectations?
C. Themes and questions related to ethnic identification
Sense of ethnicity (images, ideas, feelings, attitudes, values, etc.). -How do you remember experiences in childhood, adolescence, and now? -How has your sense of identity changed over time? (Developmental aspects of identity) -What do you consider to be significant moments and events in your life? -What do you view as turning points in your life? -What significant relationships have you had?
D. Practices related to ethnicity -language practices and issues (during childhood, adolecence, and now). -What Latviancustoms and traditions their family celebratedlacknowfedged, and what they do now. -social networks and activities.
E. Impact of ethnicity -What difference has your Latvian background made in your life (assets and liabilities)?/ In what situations? -What role has your Latvian background played in your life? -Have you ever felt empowered andlor disempowered because of your Latvian background? -Have you ever felt in conflict andlor confused because of your Latvian background? -Why is it worth holding on?
F. Exploration of ideas and images of ethnic identity -What metaphor would illustrate your experience of your ethnic identity? -What 5 words would you choose to describe yourself? -(Salient features of identity) -Images, ideas, values, attitudes, -Three wishes. -Three meaningful symbols. APPENDIX B LIFE HISTORY STUDY INTERVIEW GUIDE
The purpose of the interviews was to facilitate the telling of the participants' narratives or life stories. Broad, open-ended theme questions were used to initiate discussion. The focus was on exploring the participants' experiences, thoughts, feelings, and perspectives. Consequently, the content and the focus of the interviews valied among the partidpants, as did the number and length of interviews needed for each participant to complete her narrative.
In some cases it was helpful to use the first interview as an opportunity to lay out the temporal framework of the participants life, and the details were elaborated in subsequent interviews. The participants were encouraged to begin at the beginning and to talk about their background and experiences. The following themes were explored during the interviews:
Personal Background
-Place and date of birth. -Religious background. -Languages spoken. -Education and occupation. -Places of residence and length of time at each. -Family constitution, including parents, siblings, and extended family, their: place of birth; education and occupational history; life experiences, attitudes, values, and interests; relationship with participant.
Participant's Life Experiences
-Childhood memories of family life. -Educational experiences (Latvian, English, other): preschool, elementary, high school. university or other. -Occupation, work history. -Avocational interests and pursuits. -History of participation and experiences in the Latvian cornmu nity . -Friendships and significant relationships -Marriage and personal family history -Significant life events; turning points; future ambitions. -Experiences in Latvia; reasons for staying in Latvia... (For additional questions see 8 in Appendix A) -Sense of belonging, thoughts and feelings about being Latvian. Canadian... (For additional questions see C, D, E in Appendix A) -Discussions regarding the here and now of the participant's life. -Changes in one's life from one interview to the next. -Reflection on previous discussions. APPENDIX C LETTER OF CONSENT
I ...... ,...... -...,...... (su marne, name) consent to participate in the research study being conducted by llze Arielle Matiss, a doctoral student in the Department of Applied Psychology at the Ontario Institute for Studies in Education (O.I.S.E.). University of Toronto. I understand that I will be interviewed approximately three times, that the interviews will be tape recorded. and that the interviews will focus on my life history. My experiences with my ethnic identification throughout my life and my experiences with the Latvian community in the West, Latvia. and Latvians from Latvia will also be discussed. There will be an on-going opportunity to discuss and darify Me interview information with the researcher.
In addition, I will try to keep a journal or notes during this process where I may write about. for example. my thoughts, feelings, questions, reactions, insights, and changes in perspective. These may be shared with the researcher if I wish.
I agree to be interviewed, and recognize that each interview will probably be two to four hours in length. I understand that the interview material and journal are treated as confidential, and that I am assured anonymity in the writing up of the research. I understand that I may withdraw from the study at any point should I wish.
...... Signature Date Appendix - E Significant Moments in the History of the Republic of Latvia Latviyas Republika
9,000 BC Earliest signs of human life in the territory of Latvia. 2,000 BC Arrival of the first pre-Baltic tribes. 1 2-1 3th centuries German crusades; German's establish feudal states in the Latvian territory. 1201 Riga is founded. 15-16th centuries The introduction of serfdom; The Reformation. The Uvonic War; part of Latvia acquired by Poland. The first book printed in Latvian. The Polish-Swedish War; part of Latvia acquired by Sweden. The Northern War, Latvian territories are induded in the Russian Empire. 1 796 The first magazine is published in Latvian. 1 822 The first newspaper is published in Latvian. 1817,1819,1861 The abolition of serfdom in Latvian territories. mid-1 9th century Tautas Atmodas Lailanets - the national awakening movement. 1873 The first Latvian Song Festival. 191 5-191 8 WWI in Latvia; German occupation. 18.1 l.19f 8 The Republic of Latvia declares independence. 1918-1920 The War of Independence. 1 1 -08.1920 Peace treaty signed with Soviet Russia. 191 8-1939 Independence years. 23.08.1 939 Molotov-Ribentrop pact signed between Germany and the Soviet Union annexing Latvia into the Soviet realm of influence. Soviet troops invade Latvia. WWll in Latvia; German occupation. Soviet occupation years. Protests by environmental green groups block the construction of a hydroelectric dam on the river Daugava and a plan for a Riga metro. Protest at the Freedom Monument commemorating the 1941 deportations to Siberia. The secret protocols of the 1939 Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact. giving the Battics to the USSR, was revealed and denounced by the Latvian Writers' Union. Summer I988 Baltica '88 folkiore movement; Reinstatement of national symbols the flag and the anthem. The foundation of the Popular Front. The Latvian Popular Front calls for independence from the USSR. 'Balc Way" joins 2 million Latvians, Lithuanians. and Estonians in the formation of a human chain protest stretching 650 km from Tallinn to Vilnius marking the 50th anniversary of the Molotov- Ribbentrop Pact. 18.03.1 990 The Popular Front candidates are elected in 124 of the 201 seats in the Supreme Coundl. 04.05.1 990 Latvia's independence, following a transition period, is restored by a declaration by the Supreme Coundl. Summer 1990 First Latvian Song Festival with a truly Latvian program and in which Latvian chiors and dance ensembles from the West were invited to participate. Travel throughout Latvia by foreigners is no longer controlled and restricted. Banicades are erected to protect the Latvian parliament after an assault on the TV tower in Vilnius, Lithuania resulting in fatalities. Special Soviet OMON troops attack Latvia's Interior Ministry building in Riga. Five people were killed and ten were injured in the attack. 73.7% vote in favour of independence from the USSR in a consultative referendum despite the pro-Russian parfiamentary factions urgings to boycott the referendum. 87.6% of eligible voters took part in the process including Russian residents and servicemen. A plan outlining transition to independence by spring 1992 is adopted by the Popular Front. Soviet troops seize the Radio and Television building in Riga and block roads leading into the city during the coup in Moscow.
The Moscow cou~colla~ses. The Latvian parliament votes to end the transition period and restores Lahiia's preWWll independence. 233
The Latvian Communist party is banned. The United States recognize the independence of the three Baltic countries. The Soviet Union recognizes the independence of Estonia. Latvia, and Lithuania. 17.09.1 991 The three Wccounties are admitted into the United Nations. Winter 1992 Latvian team participates in the Winter Olympics under their own flag. Summer 1992 Latvian athletes win a bronze and two silver medals at the Barcelona Olympics. Latvia's own currency, the /at, is introduced. First free parliamentary elections. President Ulmanis and President Yeltsin sign a troop withdrawal agreement The last Soviet troops leave Latvia. Latvia joins the Council of Europe.
Sources: This material was compiled from information puMis hed in Riga in Your Pocket: The Roda'ng Summer Guide, Juuly/August 1996; Riga in Your Pocket: The Ultimate City Guide, FeWMarcNpriI 1998; and from an information pamphlet circulated in the Baltic communities in Toronto. IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (QA-3)
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