In 'all thy sons' or in 'all of us' — who is being called to love this country?

In theory, the purpose of a national anthem is to evoke feelings of connection to the state, to eulogize the memories of a land and most importantly, to connect a populace.

But I don't feel anything when I listen to the Canadian national anthem. I don't remember the last time that I sang it. As a Black female immigrant-turned-citizen, I often wonder if this persistent disconnect from one of the signifiers of this country means that I am undeserving of my place here.

That's the thing about Canada: that ostensibly welcoming culture can so often mask a deep and historically rooted discomfort with — and even hatred of —  otherness.

So in this anthem that I feel so ambivalent about, consider the lyric "In all thy sons command" — or the change to "In all of us command" that's currently before the Senate. This lyric has a history of contention and was already updated from its original form, "thou dost in us command." But in order to know what is being "commanded," we must also examine the words that come before: "True patriot love." It is there, not in the debate around gender-neutral language, but in this call to a patriotism so true that it commands a particular kind of love, that I find my ambivalence take hold.

• UPDATE (June 28, 2017): Tory senators succeed in stalling gender-neutral O Canada

As an individual who was born in England and moved to Canada, whose mother is from Grenada and father is from Venezuela, I have never felt as though I belonged to a single geographic space. As a result, patriotism has always been a challenging concept for me to wrap my mind around.

However, beyond my individual distance from the term, the idea of patriotism has come under (much-deserved) public scrutiny in recent years. Patriotism is often used to justify ideologies of exclusion and practices of xenophobia. It is employed to normalize authoritarian practices and obscure the increasing militarization of society. Patriotism is also used to silence a history of colonization, a silence that is complicit in colonial legacies that continue to this day.  

So returning to the lyrics, I wonder about an anthem that calls for a true and patriot love that is commanded in all of us. What true love is this anthem celebrating? Is it a redacted truth of Canadian benevolence or is it a critical and challenging truth that demands accountability? And once those questions are answered, I wonder who is the "us" that is being called to this action. Does it include Indigenous people? Refugees? Landed immigrants? What about people without status?

I appreciate those who are fighting to have the words of the anthem altered from its male-centered "sons" to a more inclusive "us." Since that fight has been waged, my attention turns to the assumptions that undergird these poetic lyrics and the potential dangers that lie therein. It is not the job of an anthem to be critical and specific. It is supposed to unite and inspire. But as long as I'm not sure who is being invited into this unification and to what end, I will remain ambivalent — and hope that these mixed feelings don't jeopardize my welcome in this land.

Next in So, Canada...: Sarah Blyth's take on "with glowing hearts:"