Being born Canadian bestows advantages most of us take for granted.  I’ve been thinking about my birthright a lot since my AirB&B guests arrived. Let me explain.

A & Z flew from Istanbul on May 28 and eagerly entered my house with the luggage you’d expect of a 10 week holiday in Canada.  A made a b-line for the sofa, unzipped the hoodie that shrouded her belly, and released her swollen feet and ankles from their sup-hose casings. From social media, I know A is usually a slim, glamorous 30 year old, and, like all her contemporaries, is as comfortable with being photographed and as she is to share the images with the world. That evening, though, she had the grim look of determination that pregnant women have sported for millennia. I kept the pace of the house-tour slow, as A gamely climbed the stairs despite being in some degree of discomfort from the trans-Atlantic journey. Through their interpreter/friend, J, I inquired when the baby was due. 

“In a month,” J responded on their behalf. 

“Oh!” I exclaimed, “you’re having a Canadian baby!” I was unable to disguise my surprise. 

Until I did a quick Google search that night, I was innocent about the world of birth tourism: travelling to another country to give birth to gain a different and more coveted citizenship for a child. Wikipedia’s birth tourism entry shows Canada and the US remain among a minority of countries where birth in a country is the only precondition for citizenship. Other Western democracies - Australia and New Zealand, parts of Europe, the UK - have changed their citizenship laws to make it less automatic. To some, our laws allow a backdoor entry to citizenship that further privileges the already-privileged. For a look at that commentary, read a recent National Post article here. 

Most people I’ve spoken to since I met A & Z have not been aware of birth tourism either. It seems pretty unthinkable to most of us to sacrifice the comforts and security of birthing where language and culture are familiar to go across the planet to a place where everything and everyone is foreign just to give the “anchor baby” a leg up in life. 

The exception was my Turkish-Canadian friend. When I told her I had a young couple from Istanbul living temporarily in my house, her only question was: “are they here to learn English or  to have a baby?”  Birth tourism is, I gather, definitely a ‘thing’ in Turkey! 

You’re likely wondering about the mechanics of this. Me too and A & Z have been remarkably forthcoming. (They were also comfortable with me blogging about this - don’t worry, I checked!) J, the person who acted as interpreter for me upon their arrival, receives $18,000 for providing airport transport, arranging for a doctor and a hospital (A will not give birth at my house as I’d hoped), translating at all the appointments and the delivery, and, I believe, providing essential baby items. Google translate is just too unwieldy to ask everything of A & Z that the former lawyer in me would love to understand: who bears the financial risk, for example, if there are complications and mom and baby must be hospitalized longer than the minimum? How many birth tourists couples does J assist each year and is this a service requiring HST? How does she market herself in Turkey? Can I set myself up as a cocooning space for other young Turks who will await their Canadian births? But for the linguistic barrier, I’d be all over this! 

What I do know is that while A & Z were already considering Canada as a place to have their baby, when they learned they were having a girl, their concern about the role of women at home made it an imperative. They want to be sure Lidya gets opportunities she may not otherwise have. 

Being in Canada is exciting for a couple whose social media shows they are no strangers to adventure. A & Z are an engaging pair and I’m enjoying a blossoming friendship with them, made possible by translation apps on our phones and Z’s confident approach to learning English. We’ve toasted their good fortune in my gazebo. We’ve eaten Turkish food, including A’s homemade dolmades, in the dining room where I have hosted so many dinners in the past. Yesterday, I took them on a road trip to Stratford so they could see some of the countryside and one of Ontario’s finest small cities. They beam when we discuss their pre-baby life and the one they plan to have once Lidya is born. Their enthusiasm is infectious and I’m excited to be an AirB&B granny, already imagining my visit to their home in Istanbul and how Lidya will one day visit me when she attends UofT. Ah yes, imagination is a powerful thing! 

In the meantime, Happy Canada Day weekend, folks. Give a thought to the power of being Canadian and the lengths others will go to achieve it. 

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