Music is representative of the people and the present. We want to identify with the artists we see and we want to see the parts of ourselves in our culture. If we can’t participate in creating, we at least want to know someone is participating on our behalf. We want a team to cheer for, a team that represents the our most identifiable aspects. When looking at the dominant cultural representations of what it is to be a young Canadian girl, there seems to be a girl who is serially left unrepresented. What we’ve seen from Shania Twain to Alanis Morissette, then Avril Lavigne, and today, Carly Rae Jepsen, presents one image versus a reality that many Canadian girls don’t fulfill. We’re given young white women of rural Canadian areas, suggesting in their image the definition of Canadian femininity. They are made to be relatable and these factors of relatability call into question their audience.When considering the experiences of young Canadian women in urban areas of varying ethnicities, the Canadian femininity proposed by artists like Avril Lavigne and Carly Rae Jepson is far from relatable. The Canada known by young woman in urban areas is much different than those of the rural. First and second generation immigrant girls constantly experience a dissonance, never knowing whether to identify as one's "origin" or to confidently state "Canadian.” We are made to choose because we are defined by our difference.With Colombian parents and growing up in Toronto in the early 2000’s, I found myself seeking identification in the women I was seeing in the media. The Canadian Girl of the ‘00s was Avril Lavigne. Avril was continuously presented as “ours,” we believed she was on our team and leading. Avril emerged in 2003 with her album Let Go alongside Nelly Furtado, also Canadian with Portuguese roots. Yet, Nelly’s Canadian legitimacy and prominence took a backseat next to Avril’s. Avril was at the forefront. She was seen as The Canadian. In this, she provided an alternative image of femininity for the time. I had feelings which Avril helped me to make sense of: anger, confusion, rebellion, a strong desire to tell everyone to fuck off — and I was watching as they came from a woman. Avril was trashing the mall, jumping on cars, crowd surfing while literally asking why she should care. Avril prided herself on being anti-girly; one of the boys while also being highly aware that she was still a female. And yet, aside from the angst I was seeing in her, I could not identify with much else.
Still, being young and Canadian, I felt a compulsion to cling to Avril and sought to attach myself to this image of Canadianness she gave, though I quickly became aware that I would never fully see myself in her. I was more often than not seeing myself in the exoticness of Shakira, Jennifer Lopez and Beyoncé. These were the women I looked at and in them, saw myself. The image I was being given by Avril was missing the very thing these other non-Canadian women provided. I couldn’t ignore that I was not a young white girl from a small town. My experience as a Canadian was not the experience Avril so strongly presented; the culture around me was not the culture embodied in her. As Canadians, we’re told to pride ourselves on Canada’s multiculturalism. We’re convinced it’s truly the case. So why was Avril the most prevalent image of Canadian femininity available to us?Real Canadian women want representation, and in this, to know that our realities as young women do not fall second in defining what it means to be one. As Canada continuously presents itself as multicultural, we are continuously made to believe this is the case. When I look at Avril, I don’t see multiculturalism; I don’t see myself, my sister, my best friends. She is what we’ve grown to know as the dominant Canadian female artist and while there is value in the image of rebellion she gave, we also want to ask for more. When our realities and our cultures are absent in defining the Canadian woman, it suggests they are less legitimate. We want to know that Canada’s multicultural ideology will translate in the cultural representation of who we are as women, in Canada.Maria Martinez is a writer living in Toronto. She is on Twitter.
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