beasociolinguist.com

The first thing we need to talk about is: there’s no such thing as “English.”

Okay, that was a little click-bait-y – there is no such thing as a singular form of English. Or of any language, for that matter. What there are are Englishes: different varieties of English, just like there are different varieties of flowers or trees. This is true of all languages. And like flowers and trees, there’s no single form that’s “better” or “worse” than others – we need full, diverse ecosystems – but it’s important to specify which one you’re using when you talk about it. There’s “standard” varieties (though “who determines what’s standard, and why?” is an important question to consider), and varieties considered by some to be more like “wildflowers” (or even “weeds”). It would take forever to list all of them, but I’ll start by saying that my native variety is “Standard” American English. That’s my starting point. I think it’s beautiful, but certainly no more beautiful than any other variety, nor than any other language.

But language – or dialect, or even accent – discrimination is a real thing. Unfortunately, whenever there are power differentials in a society (which, let’s face it, is pretty much all the time), how whoever has the most power uses language is seen as “standard,” “good,” and “proper,” and how whoever has the least power uses language is seen as doing it “incorrectly” or “poorly.” Sometimes this is due to intentional discrimination, sometimes it’s an attitude people adopt without realizing it (“internalizing”), and sometimes it’s even adopted by those who are the ones being portrayed negatively by it, affecting their confidence. Regardless of why, using the “wrong kind” of English can negatively affect how people are perceived by potential employers, schools, coworkers, etc. No matter how good our intentions are, this is something everyone is susceptible to engaging in – it’s important to be aware of it, and to work against it!

Jumping off from English – into deeper waters

Now, we can get into the stuff that can be even more fascinating: experiencing a non-native language from the inside, and exploring how it both reveals and changes us! Because of the cultural values and frameworks that saturate and are represented by languages, people can find themselves feeling quite different, as a person, when they use another language (check out this piece about just that).

In my experience learning other languages as a native “Standard” American English user, I have noticed quite sharply how these other languages both expose & create new aspects of myself. When I use French (I took five years of it through middle and high school, though I feel as if I speak it more like I have only taken three), I feel more confident, more self-possessed, more full of grit. When I learn and practice Japanese (a true beginner, at time of posting), I feel more fully “myself”, in a way that is hard to describe; the strong frameworks of respect and politeness resonate with me, and they are, of course, either absent or used much differently in English (as a side note, they do seem to be evolving in Japanese; who knows what they’ll look like in the future!). When I learn and use ASL (a beginner-intermediate level), I feel softer, more reserved, more creative – and, to be honest, more timid. English allows me a specificity and explicitness that ASL avoids, and it makes me falter in my confidence that I can communicate what I mean. ASL is, frankly, much more of a workout for my brain: it doesn’t allow me the “shortcuts” that English’s specific words offer.

I also feel some pressure with ASL: my daughter is Hard of Hearing, so even though she can communicate well in spoken English, learning to communicate in ASL still feels like an important and time-constrained task for me if I want to be involved in her world as deeply as I can be. The stakes feel high, and because it’s difficult for me, I feel that hesitancy. I want to get it right. Mistakes make me feel anxious and frustrated and not as warm toward the language as I otherwise might.

This sense of pressure is absolutely something that can affect anyone’s presentation of self: if they don’t feel confident in a language, people are going to see a different side of them than they would if they were speaking their native language. (This raises the question for me: how do my non-native English speaking neighbors feel about English? If they moved here because they’re seeking safety, or to follow a family member, or for some other complex reason that means they’re missing home keenly, and they feel lots of pressure to be good at English, what do they feel towards it?) I know, though, that as I increase my fluency, that a lot of that frustration will fade – and in its place a yet newer version of myself will begin to emerge and bloom.

All of my anecdotal experiences with these languages are just that: anecdotal. Someone else – you included! – may have entirely different experiences with them. Maybe counter-intuitively, one of the things that ties our experience of language together is its person-specificity. We’re all different; no two flowers are exactly the same. But the idea that language can change how we feel and how we see ourselves is absolutely a universal experience.

IRL

Think about the culture or cultures you think of as home – what of those cultural values are reflected, and reinforced, by the dominant language(s) of that culture? What of those values have you internalized, embraced, and/or felt uncomfortable with?

If you have the opportunity, ask a non-native English speaker what they feel when they use English. What values does it seem to carry with it to them, and what do they think about those values? How do they feel when they “put on” English?

Do you speak any languages other than your “mother tongue”? If not, get in on the action – it’s good for your brain health, your understanding of the world, and your understanding of yourself! There is so much to see through other linguistic lenses – don’t miss out!