Before we delve into Jeanne Douillard’s fascinating cultural research, here’s a brief tutorial on how to pronounce her name. In French, “Jeanne” is the feminine version of “Jean,” which translates to the English “John.” But Douillard’s first name doesn’t rhyme with “seen.” Check it out: most people can handle the French male name “Jean,” with its initial “Zh” sound followed by vowels rhyming with “on,” but culminating in a swallowed “N” rather than an expressed one. If you’re still with me, all you have to do to pronounce “Jeanne” correctly in French is to linger on the final N-sound. Voilà: you’re speaking French. Félicitations!
Describing in writing how to pronounce her last name is above my pay grade, but the good news is that you can attend Douillard’s upcoming talk at the Greenfield Public Library at 5:30 p.m. on Tuesday, May 26.
“I grew up in Brightwood, in the north end of Springfield,” said Douillard, who now lives in Greenfield. “My family lived in what was known as ‘petit Canada.’ From kindergarten through eighth grade, each school day was half in French, half in English. Catholic masses were in Latin through the early 1960s; then we switched to French.” Later, when Douillard moved to Denver, Colorado as a young adult, her early life experiences came into clearer focus. “In Denver, Mexican immigrants were treated with disdain and disrespect by others,” she said. “That felt familiar, and it awakened memories of witnessing Franco-Americans being treated as second-class citizens where I grew up.” Interestingly, however, when people in Denver learned that Douillard spoke French in addition to English, they reacted positively, rather than with the derision she’d experienced while growing up.
For more than 25 years, Douillard has probed the history of the French in the Americas as an independent scholar. She began by researching her own genealogy and discovered she had Québecois, Acadien, Algonquin and English roots. “My passion led me to delve deeply into the quagmire of conflicting historiographies,” said Douillard. “English, French, and American historians offered irreconcilable views of La Nouvelle France [New France] and its people. I was intrigued and wanted to explore the truth of why the French in particular have been such a silent presence in New England.”
Douillard’s 2015 book, “I Remember: Je Me Souviens,” launched her avocation of offering public talks throughout our region and beyond.
“I’ve done a lot more research since the book came out,” said Douillard, “and I’m eager to share what I’ve learned.”
Her talk, “Silent Presence: The French in New England,” is appropriate for “teens and up” and will convey how “owning our cultures and ancestry significantly impacts who we are, how we live, and how we share our stories,” said Douillard. “I use a PowerPoint presentation of historical facts while weaving in pieces of my own personal story. Compared with talks I’ve given in other years, this one engages the emotions more.”
After experiencing friends and neighbors in Denver “reacting with awe” to the fact that Douillard could speak French, she became intensely curious about the contrast with New England. “I started reading everything I could lay my hands on about the topic,” she said. “But believe me, if you’d told me when I was young that I’d be talking about this material in public, I wouldn’t have believed it.” Douillard did research for her own purposes, and only later became passionate about sharing her findings with others. Her breadth of knowledge is impressive: she speaks with enthusiasm and nuance about topics ranging from the evolution of the French language, the 17th-century French feudal system, relationships between the monarchy and the Catholic Church, the challenging history of Acadians, and why so many U.S. cities have French names (e.g., Detroit, Baton Rouge, Boise, St. Louis, Des Moines, Louisville). She brings to light some of the many reasons being French was considered shameful in parts of the U.S. and Canada, and why the pressure to assimilate was intense, even though some Franco-Americans staunchly resisted assimilation.
Douillard and I had a lot to talk about, given that we each grew up in Franco-American families. When I described how my family emigrated to New York State from Québec in 1964 (the year I was born) and that I spent my childhood going back and forth between St. Germain-de-Grantham, Québec, and Plattsburgh, New York, Douillard said, “Ah, yes, during the time of the Quiet Revolution.” When asked to define that term for our readers, Douillard noted, “In the 1960s and 70s, people in Québec got the (Canadian national government’s) attention by expressing the wish to separate from the rest of Canada. They’d had enough.”
For those in the U.S., “news from the province of Québec during the 60s and 70s was very thin,” said Douillard. It was easy for Americans to ignore what was happening up north. “For me, this is a universal story,” she said. “It’s about the struggle to identify with something that shapes us, but also causes us embarrassment and shame. Many people who emigrated to the U.S. felt they had to cut off their language and culture in order to assimilate, because the foundations of this country are Protestant and English-speaking.” According to Douillard, some immigrants — including those from Italy and Ireland — proudly held onto their cultures and identities, but others were hesitant to do so. For Franco-Americans, there was some of both: “In earlier times, the French had parades and established newspapers and social clubs,” said Douillard, “but these days, there’s practically nothing.”
Describing the tricky balancing act between “maintaining an attachment to the past while getting fully involved in the present and future,” Douillard captures the conundrum of so many immigrants. Her willingness to speak openly about complex histories and cultural divides makes Douillard a compelling speaker well worth hearing.
Eveline MacDougall’s first name rhymes with “green.” She can be reached at eveline@amandlachorus.org.