Changing on the Fly

Hockey through the Voices of South Asian Canadians

Courtney Szto

• Publisher: Rutgers University Press
• Year: 2020
• ISBN:
  9781978807952
• Topic: Social Sciences
• Subtopic: Sociology
• Index: Social Sciences

Hockey and multiculturalism are often noted as defining features of Canadian culture; yet, rarely are we forced to question the relationship and tensions between these two social constructs. This book examines the growing significance of hockey in Canada's South Asian communities. The Hockey Night in Canada Punjabi broadcast serves as an entry point for a broader consideration of South Asian experiences in hockey culture based on field work and interviews conducted with hockey players, parents, and coaches in the Lower Mainland of British Columbia. This book seeks to inject more "color" into hockey's historically white dominated narratives and representations by returning hockey culture to its multicultural roots. It encourages alternative and multiple narratives about hockey and cultural citizenship by asking which citizens are able to contribute to the webs of meaning that form the nation's cultural fabric.

1

Myth Busting

Hockey, Multiculturalism, and Canada

I don’t choose to address racism, but racism exists so I have no choice.

—Walter Beach, 1964 Cleveland Browns

W.E.B. Du Bois famously claimed in The Souls of Black Folk (2007) that the key problem of the twentieth century would be “the problem of the color-line” (p. 15). The poignancy of this prediction, unfortunately, was not that it was true of the twentieth century but that it has continued to be a pivotal issue well into the twenty-first century. The experience of being Canadian in birth, loyalty, sport, and home, but still never being Canadian enough—the sense of being in a place but not of a place—are anxieties that every racialized Canadian is made to feel at one point or another. Consequently, this project examines the state of the color line in one of the most hallowed, lucrative, and conservative Canadian spaces: the ice rink. But, first, it is important to unpack the two myths that are fundamental to this analysis: the idea hockey is Canada, and that Canada values multiculturalism.

Myth #1: Hockey Is Canada

Developing as a hockey fan becomes akin to developing as a Canadian for many, and participation in the rituals and discourses of fandom plays a significant role in developing national identity, for individual and country alike.

—Zuurbier, 2016, p. 252

Canada has long perpetuated the idea that hockey is highly significant for the relevance and identification of the nation, but how do racialized Canadians interpret this mythology? Who really benefits from hockey as a tool of integration? Who is changed by these interactions, if anyone? How important is hockey mythology in an increasingly globalized world?

There is no doubt that hockey continues to provide an anchor point for a young white settler nation that has historically defined itself through negative associations—we are neither the United States nor Britain. Despite all of the racist comments, gatekeeping hurdles, marked difference, and resentment described in the chapters that follow, the research participants in this study spoke fondly about the game as well as the friends and memories that were made along the way. None of these participants regret getting involved in hockey, but their love of the game should not overshadow the fact that both the sport and the nation can and must be better. We also have to acknowledge that many have exited the game because of the abuse suffered, yet we tend to elevate narratives of perseverance. The mythological belief that participation in hockey signals (unconditional) entrance and acceptance into the broader Canadian polity remains a dubious propagation.

Mythology is intimately connected in the production of “national character” (Slotkin, 1973, p. 3). National myths provide direction and coherence to those who choose to believe in them (Slotkin, 1973). Myth, according to Roland Barthes (1972), serves two communication functions: “It points out and it notifies, it makes us understand something, and it imposes it on us” (p. 226); it denotes something fictional while referencing concepts that are positioned as timeless and universally accepted truths. According to Slotkin (1973), myths are exercises of the mind. Perhaps most importantly, myth impoverishes meaning, thus making it appear “neutral and innocent” (Barthes, 1972, p. 235). A significant part of Canada’s love of hockey stems from the mythological relationship between hockey and the physical environment in Canada (Holman, 2018). Barthes (2007) proclaimed, “To play hockey is constantly to repeat that men have transformed motionless winter, the hard earth, and suspended life and that precisely out of all this they have made a swift, vigorous, passionate sport” (p. 47). It is a particular kind of Canadian man who makes this myth possible.

Canadian mythology suggests it is in this relationship between sport and the physical elements that a national pastime was born. Certainly, many Canadians appear to be nostalgic for this seemingly natural memory; yet, the idea of Canadian children honing their hockey skills on frozen ponds, while picturesque, is a distant reality for urban/suburban Canadians. This is due, in part, to the effects of climate change (J. Johnson & Ali, 2016) but also a divide (whether psychological or geographical) between metropolitan centers such as Montreal, Toronto, and Vancouver and the rest of Canada. Case in point, one of the respondents, Sunny, a 20-year-old elite player, reflected on the importance of hockey and being Canadian: “Like the stereotypical Canadian kid, I think it’s, I don’t think it’s … in our area … we’re from the Vancouver area, I mean, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal. I feel like there’s kids playing a lot more other sports but playing with guys from Alberta, Saskatchewan, further out east, I feel like that’s the way they grow up—it was just hockey” (Personal communication, July 21, 2016).

Sunny talked about backyard rinks being a different reality from how he grew up and participated in hockey culture. A former elite player, Raj, echoed a similar geographical separation, “I think it’s pretty … well it depends. If you go three hours North of Vancouver, or East of Vancouver four hours, you’re in cold weather and in the snow. Only Vancouver gets [temperate] weather like this all year around, right” (Personal communication, June 21, 2016). To both Raj’s and Sunny’s points, Vancouver was home to the first artificial ice rink in Canada, Denman Arena, because of its temperate weather (Ludwig, 2016). The nostalgia for a time once lived by some Canadians perpetuates an idyllic game that emerged from the ice and snow of the Great White North. We often forget (or are made to forget) that hockey was not actually born out of nature but is a social and cultural production. As Canada continues to welcome immigrants into the country, the mythology of hockey finds itself constantly challenged by new and fluid interpretations of national identity.

These mythologies are also upheld by the belief that hockey is a defining feature of our Canadian-ness; it makes us Canadian. Yet, Kevin, a 46-year-old hockey parent, offered an interesting delineation about his identity. When I asked him how important he thought hockey is to being Canadian there was a long pause before he answered: “It’s a very good question. I’ll answer in two ways. As a hockey fan, as a Canadian who loves hockey and enjoys hockey I think it’s great.… As a son of immigrants, as an immigrant myself, in the scheme of things—no.… Hockey is, I think, a default because Canadians, generally speaking, are so good at it. We recognize that it’s Canada’s sport even though it’s not. I relate myself as Canadian differently” (Personal communication, November 21, 2016).

Kevin felt that hockey was very important as a school of life for his son, but as an immigrant he went on to describe the importance of hockey as “meh, it’s there.” He was the only participant to draw such a distinct line between hockey culture and his identity as a racialized Canadian. Kevin’s point about hockey being Canada’s default because we are good at it raises the question: Would hockey still be as important to our national identity if we were not as dominant on the international stage? Where then would we find our identity?

Some participants in this study, such as elite players Suki, 21, and Billy, 20, felt that Canada’s love of hockey is part of the national vocabulary. In other words, people may not have to play hockey themselves, but understanding the game opens up a multitude of other opportunities for social connection. Conversely, Gurp, a 25-year-old recreational player, felt that Canadians overplay the connection to hockey, stating: “I think hockey is a big part of being Canadian but there’s so many people that are not fans of hockey that how can you say that really? … I was friends with [people] in high school that were not fans of hockey at all, how can you say they’re not Canadian? They’re born here, they’re raised here, they’ve lived their entire lives—they’re not Canadian?” (Personal communication, May 10, 2016).

Sara, a relatively new hockey parent, answered that the national narrative about hockey was “pretty accurate” until I asked her if she felt that her participation in the sport made her “feel any more Canadian,” to which she responded, “I don’t think it makes me any more Canadian” (Personal communication, October 10, 2016). Amit, a 24-year-old recreational player, explained that one does not necessarily need to be a hockey fan to be Canadian because “that’s not going to make you less Canadian or less accepted in society” (Personal communication, May 16, 2016). Hockey parent Greg, 47, stated very bluntly, “I don’t think it’s got anything to do with being Canadian—Canadian is who you are. You live in Canada and that’s the only Canadian we are” (Personal communication, November 21, 2016).

Therefore, as much as the myth wants us to believe that the motive for playing hockey is to be Canadian, the reality is that being Canadian precedes any participation in hockey. Slotkin (1973) asserts, “myths reach out of the past to cripple, incapacitate, or strike down the living” (p. 5); hence, the mythology of hockey blinds us to the consequences of a collective memory rooted in colonial, gender, race, and class exclusions. Inversely, the relationship between hockey and Canadians appears natural, symbiotic, and reinforcing. Nonetheless, Slotkin (1973) contends that once a myth loses its religious devotion “[it] ceases to function as a myth” (p. 8). Could these interpretations of hockey’s mythology, as experienced by racialized Canadians, indicate deterioration of the myth? Would white Canadians necessarily answer this question any differently?

Who or What Are We Integrating?

In Aihwa Ong’s (1999) analysis of “flexible citizenship” she explained how wealthy Asian immigrants would often register for modeling classes to “learn how to dress, walk, and generally comport themselves in a way that would make them ‘more acceptable to the Americans’ ” (p. 88). This notion of being palatable to the host society is precisely what is intended by promoting hockey as something that integrates new and racialized Canadians into mainstream culture. Hockey supposedly gives Canadians a universal talking point, educates racialized Canadians about national values, and generally helps folks blend in, but to what extent is this true? Is being a hockey player, coach, or parent enough to become acceptable and overcome one’s Otherness?

Frisby, Thibault, and Cureton (2014) highlight that despite Canada’s fascination with multiculturalism and its associated policies, “there are no policies tying it directly to sport at the federal level” (p. 106). Yet, organizations such as the Institute for Canadian Citizenship (2014) promote the notion that sports are a way to “build respect, tolerance and foster intercultural awareness and relationships, assist in the integration of newcomers, and provide opportunities for youth at risk” (p. 14). The assumption from this plural ideal is that a unity will be derived where “man is born, works, laughs, and dies in the same fashion everywhere” (Barthes, 1972, p. 196)—hockey supposedly performs an erasure of cross-cultural difference. Unfortunately, hockey is not that powerful.

The majority of my research participants were born in Canada and by extension did not feel the need to be integrated. If anything, my participants gave examples of how their white teammates often had questions about South Asian culture and traditions:

CS: Do you find that kind of opens the door for some discussion? Do guys ask you questions about your culture?

BILLY: Oh definitely. I’ve gotten asked tons of questions. I always get asked where are your parents from? Can you speak East Indian, Punjabi? They ask me if I speak Punjabi, lots of times they want me to teach them words. But yeah, they ask if I understand it. Food. A lot of them, actually when my mom comes down they are obsessed with her cooking, so my mom will make some extra food and bring it down and the guys come over and eat butter chicken and stuff like that.… I think if we didn’t show, if I didn’t show that it’s okay to be comfortable around me about my culture and be respectful about it, I don’t think some of these relationships would be there. (Personal communication, July 20, 2016)

Kiran, a 22-year-old elite player, would have to explain cultural, ethnic, and/or geographic differences to some of her teammates (“There’s different types of Indians”) who perceived Indian as a uniform identity (Personal communication, April 28, 2016). Likewise, Prav, a 20-year-old recreational player, used these discussions as educational opportunities: “They’ll know all about the food but then some will want to know in depth about the culture like where it started or our temples and stuff like that. Some people do take interest in that. I guess it gives us a platform, in a way, to educate people about who we are so they don’t have that stereotype that we’re all generalized as ‘brown people.’ They can learn the variation between a Sikh, Hindu, and a Muslim” (Personal communication, September 1, 2016).

When we speak of integration and assimilation, we often envision the margins being folded/incorporated into the center—that difference becomes diluted when added into the core. This relationship is Orientalist in nature in that the center—the Occidental—may grow in size but remains largely static in nature, the rest of the world acquiescing to its existence (Said, 1978). But I contend that the language of integration and assimilation hides the fact that change must also occur at the core/center/mainstream of society.

Whether discursively (re)producing hockey as a common denominator (Dimanno, 2010), a cultural language, and/or as a tool of integration, these conceptions share the underlying presumption that hockey does not change. Former Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper told Sports Illustrated, “One of the first things you see [is] immigrants start to belong to Canadian society when their kids start to come to the hockey rink. Then the parents start to integrate with the other parents.… So it’s a great common denominator” (Farber, 2010). They integrate and so do their kids; in other words, Canada and its people may change, but hockey does not. Ergo, if the nation must change, the pastime cannot. This, of course, is a myth that offers false comfort because the institution of hockey changes constantly. Rule changes, league expansions, new stadiums, and shifting global markets all exemplify a dynamic cultural artifact. The key to mythology, however, is the illusion of stability. Billy, Parm, and Kiran are all Canadian-born citizens, which means their integration into Canada (in a literal sense) is implicit. Their white teammates, on the other hand, are the ones who have something to learn about in an ever-globalizing Canadian society and are the ones who, arguably, gain something from being in the locker room with racialized teammates. So, who, in these interactions, are the ones being “integrated?

Myths serve to naturalize discursive practices by distorting, rather than erasing, history (Barthes, 1972). The distortion here is the projection of integration as a unidirectional activity, whereas the participant narratives above elucidate how diversity in hockey may alter the directionality by tinkering with the center. By positioning racialized hockey players as abnormal in Canadian society they become “objects of our experience instead of … subjects of experience with whom we might identify” (Wendell, 1996, p. 60). For example, in Parm’s realization that hockey offers him a platform to educate his teammates about his heritage and culture, Parm is the one facilitating integration. Parm remains unchanged in this specific relationship, and it is his white teammates who are incorporated into a new normal—a new Canada. Likewise, Shane, a 20-year-old competitive player, explained, “Some players, they are from a different culture too, they’re not always Canadians, maybe from Europe. Those players tend to be more interested in learning about our culture” (Personal communication, September 1, 2016). Again, Shane’s experience and expertise serve as the center in these interactions—he is integrating non-Canadians into Canadian society; yet, from a broad view Shane would be the “non-Canadian,” the one who needs to be folded into the mix. The notion of integration mistakenly centralizes power, but here we witness some of the oscillations that take place between the center and the margins (Hurley, 2007). These are some of the nuances that are overshadowed when we uphold whiteness as the default experience.

FIG. 1.1 2017 Hometown Hockey event in Vancouver, British Columbia.

We can discursively challenge the assumption that hockey is used to Canadianize (P. Kim, 2014) racialized ...

Table of contents

• Cover
• Series Page
• Title Page
• Copyright
• Dedication
• Contents
• List of Acronyms
• Introduction
• 1. Myth Busting: Hockey, Multiculturalism, and Canada
• 2. Narratives from the Screen: Media and Cultural Citizenship
• 3. White Spaces, Different Faces: Policing Membership at the Rink and in the Nation
• 4. Racist Taunts or Just Chirping?
• 5. South Asian Masculinities and Femininities
• 6. Hockey Hurdles and Resilient Subjects: Unpacking Forms of Capital
• 7. Racialized Money and White Fragility: Class and Resentment in Hockey
• 8. Taking Stock: Public Memory and the Retelling of Hockey in Canada
• Conclusion: A Commitment to the Future
• Appendix A: Qualitative Methodology
• Appendix B: Participant Information
• Appendix C: British Columbia Competitive Hockey Structure
• Acknowledgments
• Notes
• References
• Index
• About the Author