In my mid-20s, I made a decision that might have puzzled my Finnish grandparents: I departed from Canada for Finland. They had taken the opposite route seventy years earlier, leaving post-war Finland for better economic prospects in Canada. Settling in Montreal, they built a new life and raised a family of nine children.
Growing up in Montreal, I often heard tales of Finland from my grandmother, relayed by my mum or aunts when she switched to Finnish mid-conversation. The country seemed like a distant, almost mythical land. In 2017, my sister Liisa and I embarked on a “heritage tour” to Finland, coinciding with the country’s 100th year of independence and the Juhannus celebration, a significant Finnish midsummer holiday.
During our visit, we met relatives for the first time, explored our grandmother’s hometown, and connected her narratives to real places: the farm of her upbringing, the nearby lake, and the route she took to school. Despite our grandparents’ passing, we believe they would have been pleased that we journeyed to their homeland and experienced the magic of midsummer.
A year later, feeling a desire for change while residing in Toronto, I made the bold choice to relocate to Finland to delve into living in a foreign land and explore my heritage. Securing a job and a residence permit, I initially planned to stay for a year. Fast forward seven years, at 33, I find myself still here, redefining my concept of home.
Previously viewing Montreal as my sole true home where my “real life” awaited, my perspective shifted after relocating. Initially grappling with doubts and uncertainties, Helsinki gradually began to feel like home too. Witnessing the city and its inhabitants evolve over time, I observed friends transitioning, career shifts, academic accomplishments, and new family additions. I ventured into entrepreneurship, marriage, and pet ownership.
Both Montreal and Helsinki resonate with me, each in a unique way. Strolling through Montreal’s Notre-Dame-de-Grâce neighborhood feels akin to putting on a cozy, well-loved sweater. Conversely, exploring Helsinki post-relocation felt like donning a new outfit that boosted my confidence.
Embracing the freedom of anonymity, where past versions of me remain unknown, empowered me to embrace new experiences and self-discovery in Helsinki. However, this anonymity is transient, and as an immigrant, I encounter reminders of not belonging, from cultural references eluding me to the challenge of mastering the Finnish language.
Reflecting on my immigration journey, having grown up in Montreal’s diverse milieu, I now comprehend the integration challenges faced by immigrants firsthand. Acknowledging my privilege as a white woman with Finnish heritage, I acknowledge my ability to blend in until I speak. My experiences pale in comparison to newcomers confronting racism, microaggressions, and substantial barriers to assimilation.
Living nearly a decade in Helsinki has complicated my sense of home and belonging. While Montreal remains my birthplace and haven for family and friends, Helsinki has fostered my independence and self-acceptance. I often ponder how my immigrant experience parallels my grandparents’, fostering a deeper appreciation for their struggles and a heightened empathy for those forging new lives in foreign lands.
Initially drawn to Finland to explore my lineage, I unexpectedly established new roots. I find myself straddling two worlds, not wholly belonging to either but partly to both. This duality feels weighty yet expansive, as I navigate the intricate reality of calling two places home and embracing the richness of such a dual identity.