Introducing Maria João (MJ) Maciel Jorge

What drove your decision to explore and write about your experiences through the unique lens of being an Azorean Canadian immigrant? Were there specific motivations or influences that led you to write this collection?
My motivation was twofold.  On the one hand, I wanted to dispel myths about the Azores and its inhabitants while honouring a magical place from where over 70% of all Portuguese immigrants in Canada came.  But I also wanted to capture the complexity of immigrant life, its trials and celebrations.  By focusing on the microcosmos of mainly Azorean immigrants, I also wanted to highlight a shared human experience among those who might see themselves through any lenses of displacement, solitude, and marginalization as it is the lots of most immigrants, even our supposed multicultural society.

How do you believe your connection to immigrant narratives and the Azorean diaspora shapes the authenticity and depth of your writing’s themes of culture, family, and dual identity?
I believe that my early years in Canada and my path as an immigrant of poor means working in low-paying jobs and trying to scrape by. It gave me a complete understanding of how difficult it is to be an immigrant. Then, my many interactions with fellow immigrants, especially women who preceded me without the advantages of education or resources, have not just motivated me but also instilled in me a sense of duty to document their struggles, to honour them in everyday acts by never forgetting. In my privileged path, I’ve also been so fortunate to teach the children and grandchildren of immigrants. They have enhanced my understanding of navigating different cultures, the often clash between tradition and modernity, between their desires and their family’s expectations, and the pressure to succeed financially to make it all worthwhile. My entire adult life has been as an immigrant, keenly aware of others like me, never fully belonging away but making the most of all iterations of one-self, sometimes multiple identities.

What specific examples or experiences have influenced your perspective on cultural misogyny, class entitlement, and colonialism, as expressed in your essays?
From early childhood, I was acutely aware that women carried a profound sadness due to the rigid stratification of Azorean society then and the enduring consequence of the dictatorship.  Tradition and patriarchy were widely accepted as the norm.  Portuguese women did not get equal rights until the mid-1970s, and in a remote region like the Azores, things changed quite slowly. As a girl, I wanted to escape the limitations of my society and experience true freedom. Perhaps for this reason, I’ve always felt an affinity to those who were different. Back then, those who landed in the Azores were usually from colonies or ex-colonies, and many lived at the margins of society.  When women are silent and expected to be so, we become great observers and listeners. I used those skills to try to understand those around me, but only later could I figure out that misery, despair and ignorance were the leading causes of a broken society. I’ve witnessed women being victimized by men and by other women who simply reproduced what had been done to them.  As much as women were usually the scapegoats, men, too, were victims. Gender is also never divorced from class, and because we were poor, there would be no opportunities for me. Today’s Azores are entirely different from the islands of my early childhood. I have established many connections with like-minded Azoreans who have worked diligently to modernize the region, including government officials, intellectuals and everyday people engaged in promoting equality across all levels of society.

In your essay, “The Return,” you discuss the profound influence that Jose Dias de Melo had on your awakening to the world of Azorean literature. Can you discuss the influence of Azorean literature on your writing style and themes and whether you incorporate Azorean literary traditions into your essays?
Azorean literature, particularly the works of Dias de Melo, captured the lives of the marginalized mass poor whose suffering had never been addressed.  His writing about the whaling industry and its effects on the people of the island of Pico was pioneering in that regard.  Those who wrote, especially during Salazar’s dictatorship, used literature as a weapon to bring forth the call for justice, equality, workers’ rights and dignity.  Through the power of language, great fiction brings us together in our shared humanity and tackles truths about our inner desires. Dias de Melo wrote odysseys about ordinary people whose resilience was nothing short of extraordinary: survival heroes. His stories made me more human and more aware, and in some ways, gave me a deeper understanding of the intergenerational poverty and systemic barriers that greatly affected Azoreans and propelled their emigration from the islands.  In my writing, I attempt to sensitize others, promote empathy and drive the message of what unites us all despite our different ethnicities and cultural backgrounds.  And, much like other Azorean writers, Azorean landscapes and the presence of the powerful sea are themes always present in my writing.  In addition, I identify with the world through the lens of an Azorean, akin to Nemésio’s concept of açorianidade, which defines our distinct traits as islanders – akin to mythical sirens – shaped by centuries of isolation in the mid-Atlantic.

How did your family dynamics and cultural identity while growing up in the Azores shape your perspective as a new Canadian?
I have often had this dialogue with other friends and immigrants like me.  Unlike us, our various backgrounds and identities create a certain “spice” in our mainstream interactions with others.  That is really what a multicultural society is: a rich tapestry of diverse experiences and ways of being and behaving coloured by various cultural elements.  The way we greet others is perhaps viewed as overly affectionate from some Canadian’s point of view.  There seems to be a racial ambiguity present, despite being a white woman; my cultural demeanour often leads others to perceive me differently. From a young age, our culture ingrains in us the concept of family unity and togetherness, which can sometimes conflict with the emphasis on individualism common in mainstream North American culture. Yet, ultimately, bringing one’s cultural identity into multiculturalism enables me to inject a sense of otherness, richer with complex layers. As an Azorean, that sense of otherness contains a hint of superstition, awareness of one’s place in the world, something that comes with small island life, and perhaps even a different aesthetic that injects a different way of seeing the world as scholar Irene Marques might argue.

How do you navigate the delicate balance between humour and critique when addressing the concept of Saudade in the context of the Portuguese diaspora in your essay, “Saudade, You Great Trickster!”?
I think all cultures should be critical when certain cultural cliches are packaged, sold and consumed without question.  Saudade, for instance, is one of those concepts that has become a lure for tourism and a hook to keeping the diaspora linked to a newly imagined version of Portugueseness.  This is connected to mass tourism, exoticism, Portuguese exceptionalism and other concepts that promote an imagined identity.  Of course, I feel saudade and use it regularly in my Portuguese environment. Still, I am aware of it being promoted by politicians and marketers as a brand—and this is something we must reject.  I hope this essay gets people thinking about saudade and the need to separate its emotional legacy from its more modern usage.  Many instances of saudade are also linked with a colonial past of grandeur and exceptionalism.  In its pure form, Saudade must be divested from all the “isms.”  Using humour is a way to make light of the fabricated seriousness of it all.  And I also don’t think we laugh enough, especially at ourselves.

Why is it crucial to challenge stereotypes and misconceptions surrounding Azorean identity and açorianidade in a modern global society where information is readily accessible? How can a balanced and updated reflection on açorianidade contribute to a more nuanced understanding of Azorean heritage and evolution over time?
Because the Azores of today are unrecognizable even to Azoreans who left long ago. Myths and stereotypes about the Azores and its people continue still to this day. For example, immigrants from some regions of Sao Miguel are often mistreated because of their particular accents.  The concept of açorianidade can go a long way in explaining our characteristics as Azoreans, the richness of our expressions, or perhaps our identity as quasi-Portuguese.  It dispels myths and does not create additional obstacles. However, the large diasporic identities due to emigration are missing in Nemesio’s original essay of 1932.  Therefore, I felt the need to not only validate our experience as Azorean as we are all ambassadors of açorianidade but also to affirm our participation in its renewal from the 21^st century’s largest metaphorical tenth island—the one here in Toronto.