Exploring the virtual edition of the Blue Metropolis International Literary Festival 2021
By Lina Shoumarova
August 15, 2021
The 23rd edition of the Blue Metropolis International Literary Festival took place this year with a program of more than 50 online events inspired by the festival’s broad theme: “Challenges of Our Times?” True to its commitment to being a multilingual and pluri-cultural celebration of all things literary, the festival offered panel discussions in English, French, Spanish, Portuguese and Yiddish and featured speakers joining virtually from all corners of the world, from Oceania to Spain, from Vancouver to Chile, Morocco and beyond.
I’ve been a frequent visitor of previous editions of the festival. In this pandemic year I watched at home many of the online presentations and discussions. Even though I missed the in-person contact with the authors and the live audience, and I missed that very specific excitement of festival culture, it also felt great to submerge myself in these virtual conversations and reflections. Over three posts on this blog, I outline some common themes that I observed running through the different discussions.
Storytelling, identity and self-representation
In his 2021 Hugh MacLennan Lecture “Navigating Identity through Storytelling,” author Danny Ramadan told his story of growing up in Damascus as a gay man, falling in love for the first time and becoming a journalist and a writer. He left Syria as a refugee and lived in Lebanon and other countries in the Middle East before settling in Vancouver in 2014. When he arrived in Canada, he already had the manuscript of his first novel written. A semi-autobiographical story, The Clothesline Swing (Nightwood Editions, 2017) speaks of finding joy in the heart of darkness and of trauma as a space where we show resilience first to ourselves and then to the world. Ramadan wanted to challenge the stereotypical media images of Syrian refugees and LGBTQ people of Arabic descent—images in which he couldn’t recognize himself. It was important for him that these stories are told by Syrians themselves. As he told Ann-Marie MacDonald, who moderated the discussion during the festival, with this book he wanted to explore the connection between stories and healing and describe what life in wartime and in exile is like, all the while reminding us about the value of building bridges and the possibility of extinguishing the sounds of war with love.
The importance of self-representation and the harmful impact of falsely claiming an identity was the topic of a thought-provoking discussion between Indigenous authors Gregory Scofield, Kim Scott and Devon A. Mihesuah, hosted by Duncan McCue. They addressed the issue of “pretendians” and “wannabe Indians”—people who claim Indigenous identities without being recognized as members of an Indigenous community. Audiences often can’t tell a “pretendian” and when such individuals are given prominence in the public eye, they often end up becoming spokespersons for Indigenous communities without having the necessary knowledge and lived experience. This hurtful practice is happening in Canada, US as well as Australia. As Scott explained:
“Many of us are still recovering and attempting to heal, and working out our connection to pre-colonial heritage, consolidating it at a community level. And then you get the hucksters contributing to a reduction of the possibilities for articulating what it means to be a descendant of Indigenous communities in this part of the planet.”
What does it mean to search for identity? In Scofield’s view, it is a complex and nuanced process that involves finding community, going home, reconnecting with family stories, knowing where you belong. Communities certainly have their limits—as Mihesuah pointed out, there are often different communities within a community—nevertheless, the three panelists agreed that asking someone which community they come from and what cultural knowledge they hold are legitimate questions. It is the community that needs to determine who its artists and storytellers are, all the while upholding the principle of “being a good relative,” especially when knowing that, in Scott’s words, “hurt people hurt people.” In that sense, Scofield reminded us, “there are gentler ways to hold people accountable for what they claim to be and to help them in their journey towards their identities.”