Mirror, mirror on the wall: who is more Portuguese than me? The illusion of unity in an age of appearances

Today, I write from the heart. Setting aside the ethics and journalistic values that guide me, I could not resist sharing my opinion. Dear reader, they say distance brings people closer together. In the case of the Portuguese community in Canada, it has done the opposite: it has placed people into rigid boxes. What is troubling is not that the division exists, but that almost no one is shocked by it anymore.
There is an invisible map that today organizes parties, associations, friendships, and even silences. On one side, “those from the mainland.” On the other, “those from the islands.” And in between lies the question no one asks because the answer is uncomfortable: did we emigrate to become a Portuguese community, or to recreate the borders we already left behind in Portugal?
The division is felt everywhere. It is in the tables that form naturally at events, in the invitations that never arrive, in associations where certain names circulate with unspoken priority. It is not an open conflict. Worse than that, it has become a comfortable normality.
Here comes the uncomfortable part — the one many avoid because it touches pride, tradition, and memory. For decades, regional identity has been treated as heritage. And it is. But it has also been used as a boundary. In Canada, far away from everything, that boundary stopped being geographical and became social. Harder to see, easier to ignore.
The result is a community that calls itself “strong,” but functions like small identity archipelagos. Islands within islands. Mainlands within mainlands. Everyone talking about unity that… does not exist.
Then there is the new generation — often mentioned in speeches, rarely listened to in practice. For those born in Canada or raised between two worlds, this division no longer makes sense. It is not tradition. It is not culture. It is inherited noise. And perhaps that is why it unsettles so many people: it exposes that what is protected as identity may simply be an unquestioned habit.
There are young people — and not-so-young people — hearing that they are “not really from here nor there,” as if belonging were a test with correct answers.
And here is the uncomfortable truth: this division strengthens nothing. It merely manages old fragilities. It creates an illusion of authenticity, but the price is fragmentation. And a fragmented community does not disappear — it loses its voice. And we are losing ours.
The simple truth is this: the diaspora is not divided out of inevitability, but because of a lack of willingness to confront what is uncomfortable. Because unity requires giving up small symbolic powers.
As an Azorean, for example, I see no sense in fragmenting what already unites us. An anthem should not become a symbol of division, and creating parallel versions only weakens our shared identity. I admire Natália Correia and recognize the strength of our culture and our people, but I do not support that idea. My anthem is the one of “against the cannons” — and that is enough for me. You may start throwing stones now…
Perhaps the new generation is unsettling because it does not reject culture, but refuses to inherit walls. And how much longer will we confuse emigration with carrying borders behind us?
In this community, appearances are valued more than substance: quantity over quality, image over culture, visibility over impact. People live to show, but rarely to serve. Dear reader, renewal means adding, not dividing or excluding.
So the question remains: who is afraid of youth — or of those who, regardless of age, think outside the usual box?
Speaking for myself: I deeply love the Azores — every island I know like the palm of my hand — but I never forget that Portugal is a single, indivisible whole, greater than any one of its parts — a nation made of islands, mainland, and stories that complete one another.
I carry with me Minho, Alentejo, Lisbon, Porto, Madeira, and the Algarve. I carry — or perhaps bring — an entire country that recognizes itself through difference and grows stronger through unity.
It is time — it is always time — for us to be better.
Romulo Ávila/MS






