For more than a century, millions of people with French-Canadian roots across the United States have carried unrecognized ancestral ties to Canada, cut off from formal citizenship by outdated and discriminatory laws. That historic injustice began to be corrected in December 2024, when a landmark Canadian citizenship law came into force, opening the door for any descendant of a Canadian citizen to prove their ancestral connection and claim citizenship – a change that has sparked a surge of applications and reignited conversations about cultural identity across North America.
The roots of this crisis stretch back to the 19th and early 20th centuries, when more than one million French-Canadians left Canada for New England in search of mill and farm work. In Maine, where many settled, state laws once banned French instruction in public schools, and social stigma labeled French speakers as second-class citizens. Compounding this displacement, outdated Canadian citizenship rules barred generations of descendants born in the U.S. from claiming citizenship, leaving millions of people now referred to as “lost Canadians” disconnected from their formal national identity.
Joe Boucher, the youngest of five children growing up in a French-Canadian family in Maine, embodies this generational disconnect. While both his parents spoke French to one another and raised their children with pride in their heritage, Boucher never learned to speak the language; his older siblings defaulted to English when talking among themselves, shaped by the stigma and legal barriers that once marginalized French speakers in the state. Today, Boucher is among the thousands of applicants pursuing formal citizenship proof under the new law. For him, the process is not about seeking a new home – though he dreams of one day retiring in Quebec City, where his 17th-century ancestor Pierre Boucher once served as governor of the French colonial settlement – but about reclaiming a core part of his identity.
“It’s nice to know that the connectivity to the home country, as it were, is there,” Boucher told the BBC. Growing up, his father instilled fierce pride in their Acadian and French-Canadian heritage, and now as a musician, Boucher celebrates that history, even adapting Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem *Evangeline*, which chronicles the 18th-century expulsion of Acadians by British forces, into a original song. “My ancestors arrived in Canada 400 years ago and spent generations creating communities and cultivating the land in Quebec and Acadie. This is the family I know and this is in large part who I am,” he explained.
For many applicants, the new law comes at a moment of particular uncertainty, coinciding with the start of the second term of U.S. President Donald Trump. Multiple applicants, including another Mainer of French-Canadian descent Tim Cyr, note that current political uncertainty has made securing a second citizenship an appealing safety net. “It’s not a great time to have an American passport,” Cyr said, though he added he has no plans to leave the U.S. permanently. Boucher emphasized that his own motivation goes beyond political contingency, centered on cultural identity rather than an “escape hatch” from the U.S., where his immediate family and life are rooted.
In the first six weeks after the law took effect – between December 15, 2025, and January 31, 2026 – Canadian immigration officials received 12,430 applications, processed 6,280, and granted citizenship to 1,480 applicants. The surge in interest has upended industries that support the application process, most notably professional genealogy. Montreal-based genealogist Ryan Légère, who specializes in tracking French-Canadian ancestral records, says his former side business has quickly become a full-time occupation, so busy he is now considering hiring additional staff. “It’s completely taken over my life,” he said.
But Légère also warns of growing challenges and unforeseen strains on the system. The law was passed after an Ontario court ruled that limiting citizenship eligibility to only first-generation descendants was unconstitutional, but Légère says Canadian institutions are understaffed, overwhelmed, and poorly prepared for the volume of applications they have received.
Many applicants also face steep practical barriers to proving their ancestry. Quebec did not standardize civil birth certificates until the 1990s; before that, most births were recorded only in parish baptismal records, which are often handwritten in archaic, hard-to-read French script. Many families anglicized their surnames after moving to the U.S., erasing paper trails: Desjardins became Gardner, Bonenfant became Goodchild, and countless other names were altered to fit English language norms. The low nominal application fee of just C$75 (around $55 USD) can balloon to thousands of dollars when factoring in genealogist fees, record retrieval costs, and legal assistance, putting the process out of reach for some applicants.
A spokesperson for Immigration, Refugees and Citizenship Canada confirmed to the BBC that all applications are reviewed on an individual basis to confirm eligibility, and warned that data from commercial online genealogy platforms cannot be used as the sole proof of ancestry. The law does include some parameters: applicants must trace their lineage to a direct parental ancestor who became a Canadian citizen on or after January 1, 1947, when Canada’s first Citizenship Act came into force. Going forward, any Canadian parent must have resided in Canada for at least 1,095 days to pass citizenship to their children born abroad. No limit is placed on how far back an eligible ancestor can be, however, meaning millions of U.S. residents could qualify for citizenship under the new rules.
For people like Boucher, the law represents more than a change in immigration policy: it is a long-overdue recognition of a history of displacement and marginalization, and a chance to formalize the connection to the heritage his parents worked hard to preserve.