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toula drimonis: reflections on ru and forced migration
quebec film evokes the struggles of vietnamese "boat people" — and, for me, questions about the welcome given asylum seekers today.
jan 12 2024
3 minute read
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last weekend, like many other quebecers, i finally went to see ru, the film adaptation of the novel by the same name by vietnamese-born quebec author kim thúy.
since its release, the film has received rave reviews and made more than $1.5 million at the box office, with quebecers flocking to see the story of tinh, a young refugee girl and her family arriving to quebec in 1978.
the novel is based on thúy’s experience as one of more than 1 million southeast asian “boat people” (mostly vietnamese, but also cambodian and laotian) who fled after the end of the vietnam war in 1975, and her early years in quebec.
thúy’s book — and the film adaptation — is a series of non-linear vignettes that quietly convey what the 10-year-old protagonist experiences. the film’s lyrical cinematography evokes the confusion, sadness, overwhelming culture shock, fear and fatigue of being in limbo in the no man’s land in which refugees and all migrants exist before they eventually become part of the society welcoming them.
between 1978 and 1981, these “boat people” sold everything they had and bribed their way onto crowded vessels with the hope of finding a new place to call home. many were robbed and attacked along the way. many drowned. several countries pushed them back to sea. many spent years languishing in refugee camps.
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as the number of people in those camps expanded, the international community realized a massive resettlement effort was needed. in 1979, canada introduced a game-changer — private sponsorship. it allowed churches, corporations and neighbourhood groups to sponsor refugees directly, enabling the government to sponsor one refugee for each one sponsored privately.
by 1985, canada had taken in more than 110,000 vietnamese refugees , close to half of them under private sponsorship. in quebec, the parti québécois government, having established its own sponsorship program, directly sponsored 10,000 refugees from southeast asia. most of them settled in montreal.
i hear many people describe ru as touching. i can understand why. the film communicates the unspoken moments of confusion involved in transition and integration. even under the most humane circumstances, forced migration is a harsh process. sometimes, cruel. anonymous masses can be hard to care for. the asylum process truly tugs at our heartstrings when it’s distilled and narrowed down to a pair of frightened eyes — when we recognize the human on the other side.
knowing this, thúy focuses on specifics: the warm, unpretentious québécois hospitality; moments around a dinner table sharing a meal; snowshoeing in the stillness of winter woods; montreal’s shrill snow-clearing sirens; the endless darkness of a blizzard. what’s utterly foreign to her slowly becomes familiar. our familiar.
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watching the film, my “nous” constantly shifted — as it so often does with bicultural and tricultural children of immigrants. one minute i identified with the young girl in culture shock and the next with the québécois family easing her into this new world. i belong to both.
the migration crisis has only worsened in the past few decades. those currently requesting asylum in canada have similar stories to thúy’s to tell.
now, like then, many are running for their lives and knocking on doors. if they’re let in, they might find themselves in a strange country where everyone speaks a strange language, dresses in strange clothing, and eats strange food.
now, like then, there are politicians and pundits who are reluctant to hear their pleas. who tell canadians and quebecers it’s better to put up walls, lock our doors and turn them away. who insist they’re a threat to our culture, our language and our way of life.
back then, there were thousands and thousands of quebecers and canadians who drowned out that noise and generously welcomed strangers into their communities. they are the ones thúy pays tribute to in her love letter to quebec. they are the ones i, too, applaud.
toula drimonis is a montreal journalist and the author of we, the others: allophones, immigrants, and belonging in canada. she can be reached on x @toulastake
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