“If one looks at the bilingual speaker holistically…Phenomena such as interference, mixing and switching become the subject of analysis, helping us to discover patterns and relationships with other features of speech. A non-native accent and the choice of a wrong word (perhaps a loan translation from the other language) are more likely to be detected in bilinguals…” (Hoffman 1991)
I disagree with the above quote. It isn’t an interference, or a lack of transfer (both pejorative and prescriptivist terms), it is that we bilinguals have more tools in our tool box. We have more language to pull from and as such our language is more dynamic. I sometimes purposefully and sometimes unconsciously move syntax, use vocabulary that “doesn’t belong” for a monolingual speaker—but to me does. I express myself as best I can, and feel my language, the ethos of my language, which cannot be taught. Who gets to decide what is native and that it is my ideal is to be a “native”—what does that even mean? My language isn’t a set standard nor do I desire it to be.
I have been very frustrated and impatient the last few months as the man I am dating learns Spanish. I use Spanish as my language of love and affection, while I use English as a bureaucratic tool to maneuver a white society (not that Spanish isn’t also imperialistic–it just manifests differently in my daily life). As such when my gentleman speaks to me in Spanish, a language he is learning as an adult I swoon, but I know he doesn’t feel what he is saying. As in he is in such an early stage of language development that he doesn’t feel the spirit of the language yet. He says things in Spanish, I am almost certain he would never say in English, they are sweet things but he doesn’t understand the impact his words have on me. The translation is not one-to-one because the literal definition does not include emotional interpretation.
I imagine him reaching a high level of fluency before he gains the ideology, the mentality of the language. I imagine it happening in the marketplace somewhere in Spanish speaking Mesoamerica, him realizing that he has been speaking without understanding the emotion and realizing that his language abilities are not what he believes. That he will come home and tell me the story of how he realized he hadn’t felt a word, felt the emotion of the word, until the context thrusted itself on him. It is at this moment of language insecurity where his capabilities will actually be at their highest. The bilingual speaker is always in that flux of wondering “how can I use all my tools to fully express myself with all the accurate emotion that is available at my disposal”.
The moment he realizes, that he hasn’t mastered the ethos yet and wonders if he is ever capable of it (as I wonder it myself daily and try to manipulate language to communicate and connect) is when I will trust what he says even more fully.
Waves of motivation.
I miss blogging. I miss spilling out the truth until it no longer burned inside of me and the sting had been released.
I miss connecting with amazing people doing amazing things.
I have been scared before about writing publicly and the academic impact it might have. I realize though that blogging helped me get into graduate school. It was blogtitlan that encouraged me to apply, it was members of blogtitlan who looked over my applications and essays. They have given me much guidance and I am now shocked to look around and see how many of us from early blogtitlan went into academia. I wonder how we ended up here.
David always talked about us as being the flowers in the cracks of sidewalks, we found ways to flourish were there weren’t others. We also however, found each other.
I am feeling more motivated to write for multiple reasons. The burning inside is getting to be too much. As I assimilate more and more with academia I find myself unhappier and disconnected from reality. And while fear kept me from writing before, I now recognize the support team I have that understands I am more than someone creating a space in academia. There is more too me than what academia acknowledges. That more is what makes me a different academic and different human.
It is not just the fact that I am Chicana and there are are so few of us, but also because I am unapologetic in my boisterous presence, in my womaness, in my political being, in my engaging in many fashions including blogging.
Here is my gentle wave back into the ocean of blogging, that I deserve and hope to grow from.
There is a movie in theaters now “The Big Sick“. Short summary brown man and white woman fall in love and deal with cultural conflict. I wasn’t interested in seeing it as the previews made it seem awful and racist. However, while driving back from a road trip I got to hear part of an interview with the pseudo-autobiographical co-screenwriter Kumail Nanjiani. I felt connected to his story as he was talking about growing up the child of immigrants. Nanjiani spoke of how he hadn’t given his parents enough credit in their evolving and understanding of his culture, different from theirs.
Then the interviewer Terry Gross, asked pseudo-autobiographical co-screenwriter Emily V. Gordon (spouse of Nanjiani) what her family thought of her being with Nanjiani. Gordon responded that her parents were used to her acts of rebellion they were just happy she found someone who was good to her.
I immediately cringed at Grdon’s gaze of Nanjiani as one of her acts of rebellion and that dreadful phrase “good to her”. Nanjiani then took over the conversation and spoke about how a “rebellious phase” was culturally very American but I was stuck on what Gordon had said.
I don’t ever want to be someone’s tool for rebellion. Which in terms of gender in hetero relationships, as a Latina I am not a tool for rebellion but I have experienced exoticisation, fetishization, for temporary fun, just as a man of color is used as the act of rebellion in temporary fun. I don’t think Gordon thought of this with any maliciousness when she spoke of her family being accustomed to her rebellion. That is part of the privilege for a white woman, that her perspective can be the conflict of dating a brown man as a temporary taboo.
Moving on to the phrase “good to her”– I ignorantly thought this wasn’t something that was regularly used as coded language but something that only I had experienced. I have been told before multiple times that phrase “I just hoped you would be with someone who is good to you”, “I wish you were with someone who could provide for you better”. The racism and sexism were there and what they really wanted to ask was “Why couldn’t I just date someone who was white man who’d take care of a girl?” Recently, a Black man told me that he’d been with non-Black women who had been told “I really was hoping you’d be with someone who was better to you” I was dumbfounded at my naïvety at thinking other people never heard the same things I did. Again, I don’t think this is what Gordon was getting at with saying acts of rebellion and as long as he’s good to me, but her intent and the reality of how many of us experience interracial relationships as an attack on us and those we love–well both perspectives overlapped but not in understanding.
I wonder does Gordon spend her time worrying about Nanjiani when he flies that he will be harmed or arrested? Have people told Gordon that the person she loves isn’t as good as any other white guy? Has she wondered what her presence says when she is next to him? What risks she puts him in by being with her? Hearing Gordon’s perspective only affirmed my desire not to see this movie.
TOSRV 2014 with friends!
Dear Columbus Outdoor Pursuits (COP),
As Tour of The Scioto River Valley (TOSRV) bike ride continues to dwindle in participants, I thought it might be helpful if I reached out, again.
I am a Latina, born in the 80’s, who enjoys cycling long distances. I have done TOSRV 4 times now. I did not participate this year and as it is I do not anticipate participating again—until some changes happen.
If you want to reach younger people, understand younger people aren’t white, and they aren’t middle class. Ohio is getting less and less white. Seriously. We are brown and young.*
Ideas on possible ways to reach new people:
1. Sliding Scale entry fees. (Given white people have every conceivable systematic advantage I wouldn’t charge POC. However, let’s be honest COP, you all aren’t that progressive.) I suggest you make a sliding scale based on income. Making it free for those on free/reduced school lunches. Perhaps, income forms like the YMCA uses for sliding scale fees.
2. Discounts for all first time (at least for the last 5 years) TOSRV participants. (Can’t we compare lists from the last 5 years or so to see if they are “first-time” participants?).
3. Whether or not you choose to have it on Mother’s Day in the future—provide discounts for Mother/Daughter pairs (this also will encourage more women to ride).
4. Discounts when you register 4 or more people together. This encourages teams, and friends to get others out. For example register 4 people at once and one person is free.
5. Work with local breweries. For example, those of you who register as part of the Seventh Son Brewery Team, get to take part in their beer sampling party in Portsmouth!
(Tour de Upland by Upland Brewery was recently cancelled but that was a fun weekend of drinking and cycling—check with them on suggestions of combining microbreweries and cycling. Tour De Upland included meals, cycling, beer, camping and a band for the same price as TOSRV + COP membership.)
6. Create “no-drop” groups: a ladies no-drop group, a first-timer no-drop group etc and allow people to sign up for these when they register.
7. Pay POC and young people to help you come-up with ideas. Don’t expect them to do the work for you and don’t expect that you know how to reach these communities.
*”Ohio Hispanics have a median age of 25.8 with over 21 percent of the population aged 5 to 14 years. For comparison, the median age of Ohioans taken as a whole is 39.3 years”
I am so very thankful for blogtitlan, a group of Latinx bloggers in the early 2000s. It was lonesome being a Xicana in Ohio, not having Latinx friends, being raised in a white community and attending white institutions. Blogtitlan understood me, helped me develop my ideas, questioned me in loving manner and created a community of thoughtful brown folk that I so desperately needed. Part of this community was Veronica Arreola of the blog Viva La Feminista and founder of The #365FeministSelfie. Veronica originally invited me to part of #365FeministSelfie a couple years ago and to their convention being conveniently held here in Columbus, Ohio. I didn’t go and I regret it. It was a really rough time in my life with a horrible professional experience that left me feeling exhausted and hopeless–which is why I should’ve gone to the convention and why I regret so much not making it. #365FeministSelfie is:
…a radical response to the theory that selfies are vain or plain right stupid. Many of the participants in #365FeministSelfie are using this challenge to create media that includes:
- People of color
- People with disabilities
- People with chronic illness
- Not-picture perfect parenting
- Gender non-conforming bodies
- Aging beautifully
- People fighting mental illness
- and the every day struggles of life itself…
So what is feminist about selfies? The people participating in this project are not seeking external validation through their photos. Rather they are creating media that includes people who do not fit the mainstream definition of beauty…although we have some of those too!
At the end of the day (or year), my hope is that people will feel more comfortable in front of a camera, more comfortable with their own image and hopefully see why others in their lives think they are beautiful.
I have started now a couple years late but here I am. I’ve been doing it on instagram (trying to merge with the Flickr and wordpress widget with not great success) and here are the things I’ve found myself thinking with a few weeks in, “selfies are good when I am feeling fugly, looking back on them days later—i am not as awful as i feel., Dayum, i work out more than I thought., Fuck that guy who told me my legs aren’t attractive., You can make anyone look big and small depending on the angle., I really like doing this for me.”
I tend to do decently well, in high stress emergency situations–like a stabbing (yes, I know this from experience). I will act logically, somewhat clearly and then when the threat has subsided I’ll melt into a puddle of emotions.
I was most recently in a situation where my level of fear was heightened and I found myself surprised at my state of alertness, because I tend to get into a decent amount of risky situations. Or at least situations where I question if this is the safest execution of events, and I don’t think I’ve ever been as frightened by my own choices as I recently was. When I say get into risky situations, I mean for example hiding in brothels from people searching for me, crossing borders with people with improper documentation–some seeking asylum, hanging out in prisons, traveling in areas forbidden to foreigners when I was one, dating men (yes, plural) with hits out on them, using authoritative government (is that redundant) regimes internet for non-sanctioned use, disseminating virtual proxies where it is verboten, assisting a friend escape institutional imprisonment–yet again I never felt the level of unease during those events as I did at dinner a couple of weeks ago.
I have friends who through dealings in their business and personal lives have been kidnapped, had family members murdered and take part in affairs I generally find intriguing from a far (here is some back ground on those friends, in an article titled Penitents, Pedophiles, Poets, Movie Stars, Silversmiths, and Drug Lords although the author very much lacks personal insight–she isn’t too far off in most of her accounts). The thing, is when people like those in the article, gather in public they have the potential to be sitting ducks for those seeking retribution. Usually, when we do gather, there is security in the perimeter, and a few better known people, kept arms length as security but disguised as part of the party. Generally, things feel pretty safe– I think the closest I’ve had to an incident where I was present, was at a dance club, where some dude above me in the balcony almost dropped his bottle on me and security moved me out-of-the-way before the guy even dropped the bottle–so not big stuff.
Anyway, some how I ended up at dinner with the wives and children but without any security. At dinner they discussed the changes since Chapo left the game, and how the fight for narco power didn’t respect women and children as it had in the past–I sat there thinking “So why the hell don’t we have any security tonight?” Upon arrival, I’d surveyed our open air restaurant, with multiple entry and exit points, and a balcony above us with great prospect for sniper perches. I felt like we were exposed and vulnerable, and while none of these ladies are super high-profile, their spouses and family members are–we were such easy prey. I still don’t know why we didn’t have security and in fact none had come in armored car, which previously when hanging out with them–they would. I didn’t understand the lamenting of how it wasn’t so dangerous before but yet her we sat with less security than I have ever witnessed. I spent the night fearful, on high alert, and wondering why this felt more dangerous than ever. I am still processing.
In a related note, internally I laugh, when in the US and out with a man who wants to face the door for safety reasons. I invariable will surmise, they have no understanding how funny this is to me, and how much more practice I have of it than them.