Exclusion on ethnic origin

The Paper Trail to the 1923 Chinese Exclusion Act
by Catherine Clement

Oakville: Plumleaf Press, 2025
$59.95  /  9781069093516

Reviewed by May Q. Wong

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In the annals of Canadian migration history, Chinese hold a unique distinction. Two experiences separate them from all other early migrant communities: exclusion and excessive documentation.

Photo identification documents (I.D.s) are innocuous – aren’t they? A driver’s licence is a teen’s right of passage and is one of the last privileges seniors relinquish. Canadian passports allow us to travel widely. We wear photo key cards at work. We even buy annual memberships at big box stores that require photo I.D.s. These all give us certain rights.

Did you know there was a time in Canadian history, and for only the Chinese, when I.D.s were used to monitor and intimidate, limit access to civil rights, and deny economic opportunities?

Catherine Clement’s new book, The Paper Trail to the 1923 Chinese Exclusion Act, and the commemorative exhibition that preceded it, takes an unflinching look at the inter-generational impact of the “…fanatical documentation [which] reached its apex with the passing of the federal 1923 Chinese Immigration Act.”

This story is a personal one for me, because my family was impacted by this law, also known as the Chinese Exclusion Act. 

Much like veterans of the First, and the Second World War, who did not talk about their war experiences, Chinese elders, like my father, rarely shared their stories of exclusion with their families. But the various I.D.s created by the government offer a glimpse into some of their lives during this time. Finally, the silence that has enshrouded this era of exclusion has been shattered. This book is at once, a photojournalistic memorial to those who suffered under the burden of this and other racist legislation, and a celebration of the resilience of a community in the face of systemic discrimination.

The Canadian government passed The Chinese Immigration Act, 1923, on July 1, 1923. Dominion Day, as it was known then, celebrated a “white man’s” country. This legislation virtually barred all further Chinese immigration for 24 years and required all those already in the country to be registered with a photo I.D..

My parents were forced to live apart for almost a quarter of a century. My older sister met our father only twice in her lifetime; for the first time when she was twelve, and the last time when she was in her mid-thirties.

The Chinese Exclusion Act was the culmination of many racist laws that had come before it. After tens of thousands of Chinese workers were recruited to complete the building of the Canadian Pacific Railroad linking British Columbia to the rest of the country, the federal government enacted the Chinese Immigration Act, 1885: An Act to Restrict and Regulate Chinese Immigration to Canada. The first Canadian legislation to exclude immigration on the basis of ethnic origin, it imposed a $50 head tax on every new Chinese immigrant (except merchants and their families), regardless of age.

A tax receipt, the C.I.5 (labourers) and C.I.50 (merchants), had to be shown on demand by any law enforcement or immigration officer. Without it, the person could be fined, jailed, or even deported. In 1900, the head tax was doubled to $100, and in 1903, raised to $500. In 1910 ¹ , the government started to require a photo to be attached to the head tax receipt.

My father came to Canada in 1921 and paid the $500 head tax.

With the possibility of finding better paying jobs than those in China, creating a better life, and supporting the families left behind, the men (and mostly men) kept coming to Canada. Despite the reality of working years and even decades to repay the costs of their passage and the head tax, limited job opportunities, and being paid lower than white man’s wages, there was still a glimmer of hope for reunification.

But the Chinese Exclusion Act eliminated all such hope. In addition, all Chinese had to meet onerous registration requirements within a year, again with the ultimate threat of deportation. These included an interview at a government office or police station, which “…reminded many Chinese of the traumatic interrogation experience they faced when they first landed in Canada.” What was galling was the requirement for “…immigrants who had been residents of Canada for many years and had successfully applied to become naturalized British subjects” and “…the most egregious insult…,” Canadian-born children, to be registered.

Previously issued C.I. forms that already had a photo attached, were stamped with a registration number on the back. Presumably new photos had to be bought to accompany C.I.s that were issued before 1910. Canadian-born children were issued C.I.45 photo I.D.s. Anyone wishing to make a return trip to China was required to apply and pay for a C.I.9 each time.

“The nationwide registration of all Chinese resulted in the creation of almost 56,000 new forms with photos and personal information,” writes Catherine Clement. “These forms, which were completed and held by the government, were given the designation C.I.44….These documents capture a community as it descended into its darkest period.”

A significant legacy from the project was the release of the C.I.44 records to the public; an invaluable source of information for their descendants and historians.

My father saved enough money to travel back to China three times during this era: in 1929 to marry, in 1934 to build a house (my sister was conceived), and in 1947, to ensure his family was safe after the war, when my brother was conceived. This time, Father witnessed the birth of his son.

The survivors of the Exclusion era, 1923-1947, lived through the Great Depression, the Japanese invasion of China, and the Second World War. During this time “…adult men outnumbered adult women by almost 35 to 1. While some found love and married Indigenous or White women, most were resigned to living alone in Canada. The Chinatowns where they felt safe amongst their own countrymen, became enclaves of “forever bachelors.”

“As late as the 1970s, hundreds of elderly ‘bachelor’ men could be found across Canada, living out their final years of life an ocean away from their families and ancestors,” notes Catherine Clement. “These men never did bring their families to Canada after the 1947 repeal, nor did they return home to China once they were too old to work.”

Photos and heartwarming stories of men who were welcomed into another’s family as an honorary godfather, uncle, or grandfather are included in the book.

Our bachelor uncle was a quiet but well-liked presence in our family. We don’t know his real name, his birthdate, nor the date of his death. We simply referred to him as ‘Sam Gung,’ which literally translates into Third Grandfather…[H]e never talked about any family in China, and being kids, we never thought to ask him about his family roots….He lived in a rooming house but visited our multi-generational family home often…

My mother said Sizlze [JEW Bark Tang] had two children of his own,…I assume his wife raised their children in China as they weren’t here in Vancouver….All I know is that he loved us, and I always called him Gung-Gung (which refers to a maternal grandfather).

My parents regularly brought me to the dark and crowded rooming houses above storefronts in Montreal’s Chinatown to visit men whom I called “Ah Bak” meaning Elder Uncle. Although they did not have much, they always shared with me a coveted salted plum.

For some, the constant racism and surveillance was too much. Some men gave up and left: the country, their minds, or their lives. For example:

TAI Hing Gom (c. 1884-1939) arrived in Canada in 1911. The photograph from his 1924 Exclusion Act registration I.D. “…shows a thin, dejected-looking man in worn-out clothes who appears too broken or ashamed to look at the camera.” Shortly after registering, Hing Gom had a mental breakdown and was admitted into the psychiatric hospital at Essondale, where he died of tuberculosis, segregated and alone.

QUON Moy (c. 1870-1924) arrived in Canada in 1896. “The image attached to his C.I.44 registration form…reveals a smartly dressed yet sombre-looking older gentleman.” At the time, he was in poor physical and psychological health and unemployed. Five months later, he hung himself from the railing of the Georgia Street viaduct. “We felt it was important to remember that these men existed: to bear witness to their lives, to honour their memory, and to acknowledge their suffering by following their paper trail and sharing their stories 100 years later,” writes author Catherine Clement.

One cannot help but be outraged by the fact that children born in Canada before the imposition of the Exclusion Act, who, if they were anyone else but Chinese, would have been British subjects, with all the rights of citizenship. However, their C.I.45 cards clearly stated: “this certificate does not establish legal status in Canada.” Chinese children were forced to attend segregated schools, had to sit at the back of theatres, and were not allowed to swim at public swimming pools.

As adults, they continued to be held back. But sometimes, success is even sweeter because of the bitter struggle.

Bill Wong (1922-2017)…was born in Vancouver, the son of a tailor. He dreamed of a professional career and studied engineering at the University of British Columbia. However, upon graduation…no engineering firm or government civil engineering department would hire him, simply because he was Chinese….Eventually, Bill and his younger brother Jack, also an engineering graduate, took over [their father’s] tailor shop and used their skills to make beautiful, hand-crafted suits….Bill and Modernize Tailors were renown for their longevity: the shop operated for more than 100 years under the Wong family and, in that time, dressed mayors and movie stars.

During the Second World War, hundreds of these young Chinese men and women volunteered to serve in the Canadian Armed Forces. They too wanted to fight against the tyrants in Europe and Asia.

After the war, they reasoned, there would be no more excuses for denying Chinese Canadians the full rights of citizenship and the right to vote….

In some families, more than one child stepped up to join the Armed Forces. In Windsor, both the LEE family and the HONG family saw three brothers sign up for duty. In British Columbia, four KO BONG siblings joined with the daughter, Mary, enlisting first. Meanwhile, all three sons of JUNG Yick Ching of Victoria served in the Second World War: Ross, Arthur, and Douglas. One can imagine the mixed feelings their parents might have had, knowing that all their children were off to war and possible death.

Chinese Canadians served at every branch of the armed services, including the British-led Special Operations Executive, for which a number received the Military Medal for bravery. At least nine young Chinese soldiers, all of whom held C.I.45 cards, were among the Canadians who made the ultimate sacrifice. But when the war ended, and the surviving C.I.45 holders returned to Canada, their status as second-class citizens had not changed.

“But the seeds of change had been sown,” writes Clement. These veterans were part of a national campaign that fought for equality and the repeal of the Exclusion Act. Finally, on May 14, 1947, two years after the end of the war, the oppressive Exclusion Act was abolished. However, while “European migrants had to show only that they had established residency in Canada to apply for the reunification of their families,” the Chinese had many more barriers to overcome.

The first hurdle was to attain citizenship. While the Canadian Citizen Act, 1947 offered the Chinese the opportunity to become naturalized and gain the right to vote, this particular process could be drawn out for two or more years. It could then take another 10 to 15 years before fathers, who could afford the expense to bring their family members from China, would see them on Canadian soil.

But for many, the almost a quarter of a century of exclusion had taken its toll.

What kind of impact does it have when a family is split for decades: when wives are forced to fend for themselves and raise their children alone; when men spend almost their entire life away from their families; and when children never meet their fathers until late in their life? How can you feel a deep bond or have a familial relationship with someone you have never met?

JUN Bing Sun (1903-1975) arrived in Canada in 1920 and worked as a cook and later as a laundryman….Matthew was now a young man of 21 [when he and his mother arrived in 1971]….Bing Sun died a mere five years after his family reunited in China. In the end, the Exclusion Act, with its years of forced separation, meant Bing Sun never heard himself addressed as “Father.”

My father applied for citizenship in 1949; the process entailed eight steps and took almost two years. My mother and brother arrived in Canada on Christmas day, 1954. I was born 10 months later and was the only child in my family to be brought up by both parents.

Over the 38 years the head tax was in effect, approximately $23 million dollars were collected from over 81,000 Chinese individuals. “Many survivors of the long, dark epoch of exclusion could neither forget nor forgive the Canadian government for the suffering, humiliation, and separation imposed over decades by this unhuman legislation,” Catherine Clement writes.”

A nation-wide campaign for head tax redress began in earnest in 1983, and included 4,000 surviving head tax payers, their spouses, and dependants as signatories. Finally, in 2006, the federal government apologized for the head tax. It offered funding for community-led and national historical recognition projects as well as $20,000 compensation to each living head tax payer or their surviving spouse. “According to some figures, fewer than 800 people were able to claim the compensation,” noted Catherine Clement, “and of those 800 claimants, it is estimated that only 20 individuals were the original payers.”

Neither of my parents had survived to hear the apology or receive the compensation. His scanned C.I.5 was included in the Paper Trail exhibition in both Vancouver and Montreal.

The Exclusion Act was in effect for 24 years. From its beginning until the end of 1946, a year before its repeal, only 23 Chinese immigrants were allowed into Canada. The restrictions on Chinese family reunification would not be lifted until 1967. But no apology has ever been issued for the Exclusion Act.

After a year (July 1, 2023 – June 30, 2024) of commemorative activities including: the affecting Paper Trail to the 1923 Chinese Exclusion Act exhibit at Vancouver’s Chinese Canadian Museum, attended by more than 35,000 people; a National Remembrance Ceremony in the Canadian Senate; a rally which saw the “single largest gathering of Chinese Canadians on [Parliament] Hill”; and this beautiful book, this dark period of Canadian history has now been exposed.

This book is an essential read for all Canadians, and should be made available to all schools and libraries. Chinese Canadian immigration history is an integral part of Canadian history, and the Chinese exclusion period should be included in school curricula. I will begin by donating my review copy to my university library.

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May Q. Wong researches and chronicles the extraordinary in ordinary people. A graduate of McGill University, she holds a Masters in Public Administration from the University of Victoria and retired from the BC Public Service in 2004. Her first book, A Cowherd in Paradise: From China to Canada (Brindle & Glass, 2012), concerns a Chinese couple separated for half of their 50 year marriage, (Wong’s parents) and the impact of Canada’s discriminatory laws on their family. City in Colour: Rediscovered Stories of Victoria’s Multicultural Past (TouchWood, 2018) concerns the diverse range of immigrants, and their contributions, to Victoria.  [Editor’s note: May Wong has also reviewed books by Dr. Bernard A.O. Binns & Ron Smith, Patrick Saint-Paul, Ian Greene and Peter McCormick, Beverley McLachlin, Graeme Taylor, and Dukesang Wong for The Ormsby Review.]

Notes

1. https://www.heritage-matters.ca/articles/chinese-immigration-9-certificates-that-produced-non-citizens ↩︎

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The British Columbia Review

Interim Editors, 2023-26: Trevor Marc Hughes (non-fiction), Brett Josef Grubisic (fiction)
Publisher: Richard Mackie

Formerly The Ormsby Review, The British Columbia Review is an on-line book review and journal service for BC writers and readers. The Advisory Board now consists of Jean Barman, Wade Davis, Robin Fisher, Barry Gough, Hugh Johnston, Kathy Mezei, Patricia Roy, and Graeme Wynn. Provincial Government Patron (since September 2018): Creative BC. Honorary Patron: Yosef Wosk. Scholarly Patron: SFU Graduate Liberal Studies. The British Columbia Review was founded in 2016 by Richard Mackie and Alan Twigg.

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