Every year when July 1st comes around, I find myself caught between two deeply different emotions. One part of me remembers the Canada that raised me. The other remembers the history they never taught me. Growing up as a first-generation Chinese Canadian in Montréal, Québec, July 1st always felt different than it did for the rest of the country. While fireworks filled the skies across Canada to celebrate Canada Day, the streets of Montréal were alive with a completely different kind of energy. Families were busy packing boxes, carrying couches down narrow spiral staircases, and loading moving trucks. July 1st wasn't just Canada Day it was Moving Day ( La fête du déménagement ). As a child, I never questioned why. I never questioned much of history at all. School taught us a beautifully curated version of Confederation. We learned about the brave explorers, the provinces, the prime ministers, and the grand narrative of how Canada was built. We were told this nation was peaceful, we...