Some people just don’t get it. Not yet, anyway. But maybe we can change that.

I’m referring to folks in the world of francophone education who like to talk about a shady group of characters they call “exogamous families.” In French, they call them familles exogames.

Now, if you’re like me, you find the word “exogamous” (pronounced “eggs-aw-ga-mous”) not only odd but downright ugly. It’s slightly less dreadful in French because, well, don’t a lot of words sound nicer in “the language of love”?

By the way, the noun is “exogamy” in English and exogamie in French. Not much prettier, eh? Unless one finds the humour in it, à la Fusion:

I imagine that people who use the terms “exogamous family” and famille exogame simply haven’t given the subject a whole lot of thought. Or it could be a matter of habit — heck, I used to use the term myself, many years ago when I didn’t know any better. And why would anyone in their right mind (other than me… but in my right mind?) spend precious time reflecting on such an obscure issue anyway?

Here’s why: because saying “exogamous family” reveals a lack of understanding and suggests a certain bias.

This kind of thing can spark exciting exchanges between individuals. But when the term is used by someone claiming to speak with any authority on the subject (for instance, educational and community leaders, or self-styled “experts”), well, that’s another matter.

A public service

Anyone who has read the first chapter of Fusion knows why the term “exogamous family” doesn’t make sense. For those of you who haven’t yet read the book, here’s a condensed version of the chapter, which I offer as a public service:

1.   Exogamy is an anthropological term meaning “marriage outside one’s community, clan or tribe.”

• Notice the word “marriage”?
  
  

2.   In 2001, when I was writing I’m with you!, the highly esteemed Richard Vaillancourt and I created a definition adapted to the Canadian context: “union of two individuals with different mother tongues and cultural backgrounds.”

• Notice the words “union of two individuals”?
  
  

3.   That definition has been widely accepted in the Canadian Francophonie ever since. But, when I began writing Fusion, I spent a lot of time thinking about it and tried to come up with an even more straightforward one. That’s why I proposed “union of a francophone and a non-francophone to form a married or common-law couple.”

• Notice the words “union of a francophone and a non-francophone”?
  
  

I know this definition isn’t perfect either, and that it opens up a whole can of worms. What, for example, makes someone a francophone? Is it a matter of language, culture, heritage… or perhaps choice? What do you think? What does someone speaking to you “with authority” think? You might be surprised at their answer.

But those questions are for another blog. Right now, if you look at the words highlighted above, you’ll see that they point to an inescapable fact: exogamy and its adjective exogamous refer to couples, not to families.

Why bother?

Why have I taken up this noble cause of setting the record straight? Ah, my friends, there are many reasons…

… starting with the fact that labels can be, and have been, used to divide communities. That’s regrettable enough, but things can really take a nasty turn when those labels are used incorrectly.

So, in the case of exogamous, if you apply it (correctly) to couples, you’ll split off a sizable portion of your school community. Apply it to kids (incorrectly, as “exogamous family” members) and you bring that separation right into the heart of the school. Now how do you like that, if you’re a parent in a mixed francophone/non-francophone couple?

People who say “exogamous families” are making a distinction between “francophone families” (two francophone parents and their offspring) and the families of couples who have two different languages and cultures. Labelling children as “exogamous” therefore suggests that those poor kids are somehow different.

As a parent in a mixed francophone/non-francophone couple, I’d ask one question of those who would call our family “exogamous”: could you possibly be implying that my kids aren’t, say, as francophone as certain other kids?

Unfortunately, that kind of attitude has been found in some francophone communities in the dark, distant past. And that’s where it belongs: in the past.

Today’s francophone schools are for all kids whose parents have the right to send them there, and in order for those kids to succeed, the doors must be open to all parents, too. Splitting communities by using facile labels — and especially using them incorrectly — is no way to accomplish that.

Stop this rant before it starts!

I could — believe me, I really could — start ranting about this, but I won’t because I’m sure you get my point.

In my eyes, kids who have a non-francophone parent are as much a part the francophone school community as every other kid in their school. If they also happen to have another language and culture, well, that’s just great! That’s why I always use an inclusive approach in my role as a consultant.

One last thing: It’s no coincidence that I’ve written this blog in English, since the initial target of the “exogamous family” label is inevitably non-francophone parents and their spouses. If that’s you, don’t hesitate to challenge people when they talk about your “exogamous family” — especially if they claim to speak with any authority on the subject! That’s the only way we’ll manage to change this regrettable way of thinking.