Is it Too Late? Establishing New Symbols of Franco-American Culture

If I showed you a beer stein, most likely, you would know what culture is represented by it. You would look at it and gather from what you’ve seen in mainstream American culture what it is to celebrate German heritage. 

You’ve at least heard of Oktoberfest celebrations, got news of the White House acknowledging German-American Day on October 6th every year, and have seen the traditional Bavarian dress worn at festivals. 

I grew up in the Midwest hearing of Oktoberfest celebrations with people dancing in lederhosen and dirndl while balancing pints of German beer.

Having some German heritage, I admire these festivals’ dedication to keeping the German-American culture alive in the Midwest, especially when you consider the history of the German language taking a massive hit during times of war. 

The language became lost to the German-Americans, so their descendants speak English but deeply love their culture. 

Of course, they throw in German words here and there, but they don’t rely on language alone to express their culture. Instead, they heavily rely on visual culture with traditional dress, dancing, music, food, and beer. 

Along with Oktoberfest, the festival of Maifest also welcomes visitors to a springtime celebration. Because it’s a German-American tradition, the Maipole dancers wear the Bavarian dress adorned with flowers.

They know the visuals that symbolize them as a culture and roll with it, despite not speaking fluent German. People from all over visit these celebrations and enjoy embracing the German-American culture.

Another prominent cultural group I admire in the Midwest is the Dutch, specifically the town of Pella, Iowa. I’ve enjoyed walking the streets decked out with traditional Dutch architecture, complete with a large windmill overlooking the town square. 

Within the central area, you’ll find gardens of tulips with statues of a man riding his bike, a woman holding tulips, and children playfully running. Handpainted murals of Dutch culture greet you throughout the town as you explore. 

Every spring, they hold their annual Tulip Time festival, dedicated to the profoundly Dutch heritage of the town. The children learn traditional Dutch music and dance in public school, which they perform every year for the crowds during the festival.

Speaking fluent Dutch isn’t called for in this celebration. They proudly lean into their symbolism of tulips, windmills, the traditional Dutch dress, their ritual of scrubbing the streets before the festival parade, and fresh-baked Dutch treats. 

When I want to describe the symbols of Franco-Americans, I get stuck on what there is to show. Of course, we have the fleur-de-lys, unique musical traditions of our own, and traditional French-Canadian recipes. Still, I never see anything as concrete as other cultures around us at the forefront. 

Often, our invitation is a question of whether we speak French or not. If we only speak English, we are told that we cannot understand ourselves and are doomed to die out. 

Previously, the closest things to physical Franco-American symbols were symbols of Catholicism. From crucifixes and Virgin Mary figures found in the home to rosaries found within coat pockets and purses, religious symbolism was the visual culture. 

When I visited the area of Sainte-Marie’s Parish in Manchester, New Hampshire it seemed as though the church is only remembered as a historical site of days gone by rather than strong symbolism representing Franco-Americans of today. Walking to Lafayette Park with the statue of Ferdinand Gagnon, it looked as if the area had seen better days.

Exploring more of our history, I visited the Millyard Museum in Manchester. Among the exhibits, I learned the mechanics of the looms that many French-Canadian immigrants worked on in the Amoskeag Mills. 

In another section below the screening of an old documentary was a long glass display case holding various objects. While I admired the cultural artifacts, I couldn’t help but notice that there was nothing to showcase the French-Canadian culture in representing the groups who had contributed to work in the mills. 

There was a flower headdress and a vest worn by young Polish girls, traditional Greek dancing shoes, a Jewish prayer shawl, and juggling batons from German and Belgian immigrants. 

But nothing from the French-Canadians, as if they had nothing cultural to give this display. Not even symbols of Catholicism. Although these objects were donations, it was odd not to see a piece of Franco-America beyond the glass. 

Franco-Americans throughout New England, and the Northeast as a whole, have rich musical talent, French language skills, and deep roots in the Catholic faith. But these aspects of our culture haven’t remained in all of us. 

As Franco-Americans, we have a distinct culture whether we speak French or not. We have our own history and presence that is separate from French-Canada. Because of this, I would like to propose that we expand on claiming certain symbols for ourselves that represent us as a group and a culture in the United States. 

Of course, we are of French-Canada in terms of ancestry, but I believe that some of their symbolism doesn’t represent specific references to Franco-America. We should embrace the traditional French-Canadian music and Podorythmie, folklore like La Chasse-galerie, French-Canadian cultural festivals, and whichever other aspects we choose for ourselves.

Not all French-Canadians are Franco-Americans, but all Franco-Americans are descended from French-Canadians.   

We can take inspiration and cultural identity from our French-Canadian past and apply it to our Franco-American future. We can celebrate our “Old World” culture with the addition of new symbolism that specifically speaks to us. 

Having a cultural identity in the visual arts is crucial to cultural connection, especially within its own group. Language is not the last thread preventing a culture from falling apart. 

So, in establishing new symbolism for ourselves, objects that I think would be excellent symbols for Franco-Americans, and ones that I have not seen anyone else claim are the shuttles and bobbins of the mills. Yet, I’ve seen these referenced before at a Franco-American presentation and described in Franco-American music with a song titled “The Shuttle.” 

We left our home in St. Hubert to work the Amoskeag 

In Manchester, New Hampshire, in 1883. 

Six days a week we rise at four to work our sixteen hours. 

Ma mère and me are spinners inside their tall brick towers; 

Mon père, he’s in the weaving room; mes frères, they sweep the floor. 

We see them, but we cannot speak above the shuttle’s roar. 

Chanterelle, the shuttle

The song describes the exploitation Franco-Americans faced working in the mills, but there is something to be said about the power of their resilience. It speaks to us as their descendants who still hold their surnames in our family tree. When we recognize the many other French-Canadian names found on street signs and businesses, it’s as if the long-gone voices behind those names greet us for a brief moment in the present. 

To diminish the shuttles and bobbins as tools that harmed our Franco-American ancestors wouldn’t be telling the whole story. We can’t imagine how demanding that workload was at the time; we can only picture it from the stories passed down to us by our older family members who lived it. I believe the shuttle is a vessel that keeps these memories alive for us as a group to remember and honor. 

La Dame de Notre Renaissance Française in Nashua, New Hampshire is a statue of a woman and her son. They represent the French-Canadian immigrants who worked in the New England mills, more specifically, as a remembrance of the women and children in the mills. 

In the pocket of her dress, La Dame holds a different mill tool. Instead of a shuttle with a bobbin, she has a spindle, which spun fibers into thread by hand. 

The statue’s artist says the spindle symbolizes the work done in the mills by many women and their children. As reflected in this statue, these tools hold meaning for us through history and culture. 

These were simple objects used for strenuous labor in the mills, but they are more than a simple relic of our past. La Dame holds her mill tool closely, so why don’t we? Rather than viewing them as objects of the past, they have the potential to become symbols of strength and resilience. 

Ma mère grew up in Nashua in what was at the time a primarily Franco-American neighborhood. In response to the idea of making the shuttle a symbol, she told me that when she was in school at Holy Infant Jesus, the nuns gave the kids bobbins to use as rhythm sticks in music class. 

It may seem insignificant, but I find a connection with my mother once holding the bobbins in her music classes when Franco-Americans before her loaded those bobbins into the shuttles during their demanding shifts toiling away in the mills. 

These shuttles, bobbins, and spindles symbolize us: they’re durable and have withstood the test of time. There have to be thousands of them hidden away, disregarded as outdated mill tools waiting to see the light again. 

It’s never too late to recreate symbols of our culture and clear a path forward which allows us to express Franco-America in new ways.