Hi! My name is Charlie! I'm nine years old and I speak English!
Sometimes I’m proud and sometimes I’m embarrassed to say I’m bilingual.
- “No way!” you might say.
- “You shouldn’t be embarrassed, sweetie. On the contrary, you’re lucky to be bilingual!”
Oh, really?
But what if I added this explanation to that statement: My parents are separated, and English is my father’s native language while French is my mother’s. Would you react the same way?
I sometimes feel both embarrassment and pride in contexts other than this one. For example, when I mention that I have two homes, that I have two birthday parties, that I have two beds, that I have two bedrooms, and so on. Let me explain: the feeling of embarrassment often stems from adults’ reactions to what I say, while the feeling of pride arises when I talk to children and see “envy” in their eyes.
Remember, when you were in preschool, one of the first things you had to learn was to memorize your address.
If only you’d seen how uncomfortable the teacher was with my “COMPLEX” situation!?! What address should I have her teach me? Whose “side” should I take (Mom or Dad)?
Do you want me to tell you what I think about it and how I experience it…
I don’t understand why people give me that pitying look when I talk about my status as a “child of separated parents.” They look at me as if I’d just told them, “My parents don’t love ME!” Yet what I’m actually telling them is, “My parents don’t love EACH OTHER anymore!”
You know, I’m happy, I’m fulfilled, and I feel blessed to live in these two distinct worlds filled with love.
The only thing that makes me sad is knowing that my parents “beat themselves up” and believe they could have given me “something better.”
At my age, I don’t have the maturity or the ability to explain to my parents how I feel about this whole situation. However, if I had the chance, here’s what I’d tell them:
• “Dad, stop feeling ungrateful, selfish, or mean—you love me and you respect the people I love, and that’s all that matters!”
• “Mom, stop doubting your choices and blaming yourself. Without you, life would be dreary, and I wouldn’t be this happy!”
You know what’s most important? It’s that no matter who I’m with—whether at my mom’s or my dad’s—both of them allow me, encourage me, and let me love the “absent” parent. My life is wonderful because no matter where I am, I feel free to be loved and to love in return.
• “I know, I’m also really lucky because my parents and stepparents have a good relationship.”
Despite human nature, which often leads to resentment and arguments during separations, my parents decided to do things differently—they chose my happiness. However, I don’t have the chance to tell them all this because I’m still too young. And if I could, my message wouldn’t be directed only at my parents. If I could, I’d also address “society,” and here’s what I’d say:
• “Why does the image of the ‘perfect’ family have to be portrayed in just one way?”
Because in my eyes—in my very own eyes—“the perfect family” includes, among others, Daddy and Manon. Not to mention the wonderful gift they gave each other this year: they had a baby, my little brother. I’m so proud. Daddy is proud, too. He shared this moment of happiness with my mom; he sent her a photo of the baby and me. She was so happy for me. But my family wouldn’t be complete without Mom and John (and yes, Mom has a boyfriend who speaks English!). With them, I spend my mornings snuggled up in bed; we go on picnics and we travel. The other day, Daddy told me, “You’re very lucky because I’ve never been to Jamaica!”
In the end, the best part of it all isn’t that I speak English and French. The best part is that when I fall asleep in my bed on Carbonne Street or in my bed on Latour Street, I always fall asleep happy and content.