A little while back, I gave a talk on the St George’s Society of Montreal. It went well, and there were some great questions. After the talk a man came up and asked me if I did this for a living, because I was so “passionate” about it. And that was the moment when it hit me – I was no longer a professional historian. It was a sad realization.
I left my work as a historical researcher for another opportunity a few months ago. I am now an executive director for a not-for-profit professional organization. It is an interesting and challenging job, but it is not history. For so long I had framed myself as a historian. I am still a historian, I am just not paid as one.
Does this make me an enthusiastic amateur? A hobbyist? An Independent scholar? Do all the years of study, the three degrees, two theses, and a post-doc keep me as a professional historian, even if it is not my main occupation? Do I need to be paid to be a professional?
A significant part of my identity is grounded in my research and writing of history. Yes, I do other things, such as popular culture, art, and other creative endeavours, but history and research are intrinsic.
I think that the hardest thing about changing jobs is the need to adjust my thinking about work and identity.
Which will you wear – a leek or a daffodil? Today is St David’s Day, on which the patron saint of Wales is remembered, and all good Welshmen and friends of Wales will mark the occasion by wearing either a leek or a daffodil in their lapels.
Actually, legend has it – and the Welsh won’t hear otherwise – that the first daffodil to bloom naturally each year blooms on St David’s Day. Its use as an emblem is something of a concession – it smells better than a leek, especially after a few hours in the lapel. Anyway, a Welshman will tell you, the daffodil is a distant relative of the leek.
Tradition claims that Welshmen wore leeks, on the advice of St David, to distinguish themselves from the enemy in a 7th century battle against the Saxons. David himself probably was the son of a Welsh prince and was one of Wales’ first bishops, the founder of more than 500 churches and a cathedral. He was born about 500 AD and legend claims he lived for 147 years!
David was a holy man and the Welsh made pilgrimages to his tomb. The Norman king of England, who found the Welsh unwilling subjects, induced Pope Calixtus II to make David a saint in 1120. The Welsh were not entirely appeased with this and, although they accepted the saint, went on fighting the English for centuries until a Tudor king with Welsh blood sat on the throne at London.
Regardless of its history, St David’s Day is the day for all Welshmen everywhere to think of the beauties and wild grandeur of Wales’ tumbled mountains and lovely shores. It’s a day for them to raise their musical voices in their beautiful anthem, “Hen Wlad Fy Nhdau” – “The land of my fathers”.
We all have family stories that we are told growing up, about some ancestor – famous, infamous, interesting or exotic. As adults we wonder if the stories are true, or if they have a grain of truth in them. I have a few stories which come from my father which do inspire me into looking closer at them….
The story goes that one of our ancestors was Indigenous. My Dad told us that she was Iroquois, from the Mohawk Valley in New York, who fled with her white husband to Glengarry, Ontario during the American Revolution. No name was given for the family, and there were no other details. Dad thought that this was where he inherited his black hair, high cheekbones, and darker skin tones.
Fast forward to adult me, now I have the skills to research this! I first have to figure out which line in my father’s family this story could apply to.
Genealogy ensues.
I was able to trace some paternal lines directly back to Scotland and Ireland. They were eliminated from consideration, which left only one possible line, that of my Great-grandmother Mary Jane Cashion. Her family had settled in Charlottenburgh Township in Glengarry in the late 18th century. They gave their name to the town of Cashion’s Glen. I was able to trace the family to their settlement in Canada, and this did not lead to an Indigenous ancestor. While I am still not sure if they were Scottish or Irish (sources disagree), they were definitely British.
Mary Jane Cashion
So, what next? DNA was another way to question the existence of an Indigenous ancestor. The DNA results essentially show about 6 generations back, a small percentage should show up. I took the Ancestry DNA test and waited. When it came back it was obvious that I have no Indigenous ancestry visible in my DNA. I am actually scarily British with a touch of Scandinavian.
The story is not true. But the story came from somewhere and was believed to be true by my father and other members of his family. Where did it come from? And why was it told? Why would they believe themselves to have Indigenous ancestry?
As Darryl Leroux has so ably demonstrated in his book Distorted Descent: White Claims to Indigenous Ancestry[1], many seek, or stress, the presence of an Indigenous ancestor in their pedigree to connect to the land, nation – a sense of entitlement and belonging which pre-dates their settler ancestors. It is also used by many to undermine the rights of Indigenous peoples, and stems from racist attitudes towards First Nations peoples.
Was that a part of it? Were my ancestors using the idea of an Indigenous ancestor to buttress their entitlement to property? I only heard the story from my father, who was disconnected for the most part from his Glengarry roots. But it is quite possible that it played into it for earlier generations, although not knowing when the story entered the family folklore makes it hard to get context. Certainly, racist ideas and stereotypes played into it. Dad felt his dark hair and skin were evidence of an Indigenous heritage. Looking through images of the Cashion family there are a number of family members who had similar dark hair and brown eyes (Dad had blue eyes). Such features are stereotyped as “Indian,” but they are hardly unique to North American First Nations peoples.[2] Black or dark brown hair is the most common hair colour in the world, and brown eyes are the most common eye colour. Why would the family leap to this conclusion about their heritage?
Here is where I step into the scary world of speculation. I think that a lot of this identification has to do with where the Cashions settled.
The area where they settled is close to the Akwesasne Mohawk First Nation (Called St Regis in early documents). More significantly it is the location of the Cashions’ original land grant – Lot 26, Concession 4, which is located adjacent to what was referred to as “Indian lands,” lands set aside for the St Regis reserve when the area was surveyed, after the American Revolution.
In 1802, John Cashion, Mary Jane Cashion’s great grandfather complained to government officials that he had “lost” about 100 acres due to the bad job of surveying the area, and that the tenants of the St Regis Indians had been encroaching on his property, granted to him 14 years prior. This complaint was made in tandem with his neighbour John Grant.[3] He had a lot of support from other officials, who stated the survey was not done properly.[4] The documents I found, spoke of having some of the land granted to Grant and Cashion after damage done to other property by Americans during the revolution, and also through purchase. The men were defending their right to the property as British loyalists, and denying the Indian rights by questioning the surveying process.
The land adjacent to the Cashion property continued to be referred to as Indian land throughout the 19th century, and even the 20th.[5] Such proximity to an area associated with an Indigenous population, and the preponderance of black haired and brown eyed Cashions might have made the mental leap easy.
Is this how the family story was started? Again, this is an educated guess. It seems plausible that being close to an Indigenous community, and having stereotypical “Indian” features might have started a rumour, which continued on through the generations.
[1] Darryl Leroux, Distorted Descent: White Claims to Indigenous Identity, University of Manitoba Press, 2019.
[2] I just watched an episode of DNA Secrets where a woman was convinced that she was mixed race because of darker skin and eyes, but ultimately found out she was 100% British. Physical characteristics are not fool-proof determinants of ethnic heritage. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q_22JBPVZ6M&t=1974s
[3] RG1 Volume 23, Reel C-102, #140 – Lots 25 and 26, Concession 4, Charlottenburg, 9 November 1802. Library and Archives Canada.
[4] I haven’t dug further yet into the dispute itself, or its resolution. I really don’t think it ended well for the St Regis Indians. See footnote 5 for more information on the Indian Lands for more general information.
[5] “Historic land records categorize some of the lots in the larger study area as “formerly Indian Lands”. These lands, also known as the Nutfield Tract, were a 3.2-kilometre-wide corridor running north from the St. Lawrence River to the height of land (or the 21st Concession) along the northern border of the county. The lands are believed to have been a First Nations passage from the St. Lawrence River to the Ottawa River and, as they were not part of the original Loyalist land grants, the First Nations at St. Regis were given hunting and gathering rights on this 30,690 acre plot under Treaty No. 57. This land was, in theory, intended to appease the Mohawk group after they had been displaced from the north shore of the St. Lawrence River from land earmarked by the government for the United Empire Loyalists. While the land was set aside, however, no formal deed or grant was given, and the Mohawks in turn found it unsuitable for hunting or settlement. Accordingly, they began leasing the land to settlers instead, with rents paid going to St. Regis. In 1809, the Indian Lands were resurveyed by Jeremiah McCarthy (MacGillivray and Ross 1979:24-26). The passage of the Municipal Act of 1847 ended Mohawk claims to the land and by 1852 the government had assumed control, with many lots subsequently granted to former tenants and squatters (Bowering 2006:4 and 5).” Stage 2 Archaeological Assessment for the Proposed North Glengarry Regional Water Supply Projecthttps://www.northglengarry.ca/en/town-hall/resources/Maxville-Water/MAXVILLE-WATER-Stage-2-ArchaeologicalAssessment.pdf (Accessed 21 July 2022).
The North Staffordshire Society of Montreal, which started on the 10th December last, with a membership of twenty-one, has increased to seventy, which number it is expected will be largely augmented shortly, as all Staffordshire men and their descendants are eligible for membership. The group picture in to-day’s Standard represents a few of the members of the North Staffordshire Society who were able to crowd around the table on the occasion of the dinner held recently. The chair was occupied by the President, Mr John Beard, while much regret was expressed on the unavoidable absence of the Vice-President, Mr Henry Wilson. However, the indefatigable secretary, Mr Frank Farr, proved an excellent second to the President.
The guest of the evening Mr Godwin, the well-known cricketer, recited some of the late Dr Drummond’s poems in excellent style. Mr Dunn played the banjo, while many of the members gave recitations, songs and speeches. The following are the names of the members in the picture: – John Beard (president), Jas Nixon, Arthur Nixon, Sam Chapman, Thos Owen, HR Callowhill, Frank Schofield, Ernest Fisher, Leonard Dunn, Robert Bew, AM Udall, Herbert Potter, EJ Philpot, John Jones, Harry Heath, Wm Atkins, Arthur Horsfall, Alf Marchand, Ernest Beil, Edwin Palmer, Jas Salmon, Jos L Carpenter, Frank Farr (sec-treas) Leonard Carpenter, Jos Carpenter, Edgar Heath, Chas Heath, and EJ Wilkins.
[Often we forget the smaller identities that are expressed, in favour of the larger national ones – such as being English. Here is a more local identity – North Staffordshire, which created a society in order to connect with others with the same origins in Montreal.]
(Now that he has gone through the mill and taken his hard knocks with that pluck for which an Englishman, even the most insane, is ever amous, he turns out a good citizen and a man of sturdy family. Education in England on Canadian affairs should be revised and means taken to knock absurd and idiotic ideas about Canada out of the heads of the people, including the newspaper editors.)
The Prosperous English Canadian – “Yes my dears; more naughty stories are told about this glorious country of ours than of any other land. Some day, if you are good, I will take you to London and show you some real live bears at the Zoo; then we’ll go to the British Museum and see a stuffed Indian. England is the only country in which we can see them. Now, we will all sing “the Maple Leaf Forever” and then you must run off to bed like good children.” Finis.
Voila une publication qui rend a la canadienne française dans les provinces maritimes les plus grands services. Née a l’événement de la Confédération des provinces britanniques du Nord en 1867, elle a déjà passe glorieux de courageuses luttes pour les intérêts des populations acadiennes, qu’elle n’a cesse de défendre contre les agressions injustes des ennemis de notre race.
Le « Moniteur Acadien » a exerça dans ses quatre années d’existence une influence bienfaisante et salutaire parmi ce peuple martyr que plus d’un siècle de dispersion et de persécution n’a pu anéantir qu’il a été pour nos frères des provinces maritimes comme un drapeau de ralliement sou lesquels tentes les branches de al grand famille acadienne sont venues se ranger pour combattre pour la grande canse nationale; il a été le porte-voix des plaintes, hélas! Trop bien tondee de cette poignée de braves contre le mauvais traitements de la dominations étrangère; il a été le signal d’un salutaire réveil politique au sein des ramifications Acadiennes dispersées ca en la sur les cotes du golfe, et aujourd’hui grâce en grand mesure a cet organe de l’opinion publique, nous avons la satisfaction de voir, au Nouveau Brunswick, a la Nouvelle-Ecosse et dans l’Ile Prince-Édouard, les descendants des premiers colons de l’Acadie abandonner l’insouciance on les avaient plonges les difficultés inouïes de leur existence parmi des races étrangères et souvent ennemies dans lesquelles ils sont si étroitement concernes.
En effet la Législature du Nouveau Brunswick ne contient pas moins de quatre acadiens français; députés par les comtes de Westmoreland, Victoria, Gloucester et Kent; le comte de Prince en envoie deux a l’assemblée de l’Ile au Prince Edouard; et dans la Nouvelle-Ecosse, Digby et le Cap Breton élisent, sinon les français du moins des hommes sympa thétiques aux Acadiens.
Aux Communes fédérales MA Renaud représente le comte de Kent. Et nous devons dire ici que les Acadiens doivent se félicitera du choix de ce dernier pour les représenter aux Communes Canadiennes; leurs intérêts se sauraient a coup sur être mieux a avis.
Tont dernièrement encore le « Moniteur Acadien » a montre sa grand utilité d’une manière éclatante dans la question de l’Éducation qui agite le Nouveau-Brunswick depuis plus d’un an. Unissant sa voix a celle des Évêques et du clergé, le « Moniteur » proteste au nom du droit et de la justice contre l’usurpation indigne et impolitique commise au détriment de ses coreligionnaires par le gouvernement local, et ses efforts ont si bien tourne que les députés de deux comtes Acadiens, on du, pour échapper a l’indignation et an mépris publics, renoncer a appuyer ce gouvernement, qui les avait jusqu’alors comptes au nombre de ses amis.
La mission du « Moniteur Acadien » est belle, noble et grande; puisse-t-il s’en acquitter a l’avenir comme par le passe.
Pour nous, canadiens nous ne pouvons rester indifférents aux progrès qui s’accomplissent chez nos frères de l’Acadie et nous suivons avec le plus profond intérêt l’amélioration qui s’opère dans leur existence nationale.
Issue d’une commune patrie, frères par le sang, la langue et la religion, les Canadiens et les Acadiens doivent s’aider mutuellement et les uns se réjouir de l’avancement des autres. Réunis sous un même gouvernement par l’union de 1867, que les Canadiens ont plus que tous les autres contribue a faire consommer, nous devons leur tendre une main secourable chaque fois qu’ils auront besoin de nous.
Aussi les injustices faites au Acadiens dans la question des Écoles leur ont-elles acquis nos plus vives sympathies. Nous sommes avec eux de cœur et nous les applaudirons dans leurs efforts pour obtenir le redressement de leurs griefs, nous les aiderons dans la mesure de notre position.
A ceremony rarely seen in Montreal was enacted yesterday when Miss Gracie Man Kee, of Quebec was married to Harry Lee, one of the foremost members of the Chinese colony in Montreal. The little bridesmaid was Miss Margaret Lee. Chinese hymns were sung at the wedding service in the Chinese Mission and quaint customs observed after the marriage.
Gilliandr's Blog 
Being a historian, reflections, 2023
A little while back, I gave a talk on the St George’s Society of Montreal. It went well, and there were some great questions. After the talk a man came up and asked me if I did this for a living, because I was so “passionate” about it. And that was the moment when it hit me – I was no longer a professional historian. It was a sad realization.
I left my work as a historical researcher for another opportunity a few months ago. I am now an executive director for a not-for-profit professional organization. It is an interesting and challenging job, but it is not history. For so long I had framed myself as a historian. I am still a historian, I am just not paid as one.
Does this make me an enthusiastic amateur? A hobbyist? An Independent scholar? Do all the years of study, the three degrees, two theses, and a post-doc keep me as a professional historian, even if it is not my main occupation? Do I need to be paid to be a professional?
A significant part of my identity is grounded in my research and writing of history. Yes, I do other things, such as popular culture, art, and other creative endeavours, but history and research are intrinsic.
I think that the hardest thing about changing jobs is the need to adjust my thinking about work and identity.
I am a historian.
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