Jocelyn - Week 4: Bilingual?
“Do you speak another language?” Well, yes and no.
My family’s native language is Indonesian. I have heard it growing up and all of my relatives speak it. As the oldest child, it was spoken to me by my parents and grandparents, and was the sole language they used to communicate with. Apparently it was my first language before English, which was only introduced to me when I went to daycare.
To think that I was once fluent in Indonesian baffles me. Now, English is my primary language and my Indonesian is at a beginner level at best. I struggle to piece together words to form sentences, which directly affects my ability to communicate with my family members. What’s curious is that when people talk to me in Indonesian, I can understand them perfectly; the only problem is that I cannot respond back to them, unless I speak English.
This phenomenon is common among immigrant children. It is known as one-way bilingualism, and I have also observed it in some of my friends. As I started attending school and spending less time at home with my family, I practiced my native language less and eventually lost most of my skills. Additionally, my parents became more comfortable speaking English and now use a mix of both languages to speak to me.
It is honestly sad how I have difficulty talking to my own grandparents and that they sometimes switch to their broken English in an attempt to help me. When I travel back to Indonesia and visit my many relatives, I usually do not talk much with them because I have a hard time speaking in Indonesian. Sometimes, when they strike up a conversation, my mom has to help me communicate.
I wish that I could have held onto my Indonesian and remained fluent. For now, I am left with listening to the words of my family, but struggling to find my own.
Jocelyn, I enjoyed your use of anecdotes about bilingualism. It brought me a lot of nostalgia to my own childhood. While I was never fluent in my mother or father tongue (due to their immense differences), I grew up learning Spanish in preschool, Hindi from my nannies, Bengali from my mom, and so many other languages as a child in the diverse Bay Area. I resonate with not understanding how I was so proficient I was at learning languages at an age when I couldn’t even write my own name properly.
ReplyDeleteI think this confusion relates to how growing up changes the way we perceive ourselves. I’ve reflected a lot about learning languages, and my personal opinion is that growing older simply leads us to be less confident in what we say. As we age, we become more aware of ourselves, and are more cautious in what we do or say. This certainly contributes to my moments of hesitation when speaking to distant relatives on the phone. Do I speak in a broken language I don’t know, or speak phrases of English to those who don’t understand it? As I grow, I’ve tried picking up several languages on Duolingo, and while I’m not fluent in any of them, I think it’s the effort that counts! While fluency is something I’d love to attain, I’ve learned to sometimes just have confidence in what I say, even if my English accent shines through.
I liked how you talked about your personal experience during this blog. As a child of immigrant parents, I could strongly relate to the phenomena you mentioned, and I felt it was an excellent mix of nostalgia and regret that encouraged me to consider staying more in touch with the languages of my heritage.
Jocelyn, what initially stood out to me in your blog was the ending. “I am left with listening to the words of my family, but struggling to find my own.” I think you are able to capture the conflict you describe throughout your blogs in just a few words. Indonesian is still part of your identity even though you may no longer have the ability to speak it. I think what was effective was how you understand the language well but are unable to communicate effectively; it shows that losing a language does not mean you are losing that connection with it as it becomes something you can recognize as part of your identity but cannot fully express.
ReplyDeleteI personally have completed five years of French courses, having taken the AP exam last year. I can tell you for sure that in several years time, I may not remember the language completely and be unable to express my thoughts and ideas effectively, but what would have stayed with me throughout is the experiences that were made throughout that journey; the values I learned through my teachers. That will always stay a part of my identity even if the actual material fades away.
I also found it interesting how much of your family relationships are connected to language. Rather than simply saying that your Indonesian skills have declined, you explain the moments where your grandparents switch to broken English or your mom having to help you communicate which creates a much more personal feeling.
Last night my friend and I were perusing our cohorts and talking about the significance of a good title. Yours stood out to me as particularly effective. It’s simple, but not overly vague, and the question mark sparks intrigue. Overall, it made me want to read your blog before even clicking on it.
ReplyDeleteThe single line, two sentence paragraph at the start of the blog continues this pattern of adding interest. The answer “Well yes, and no” raises questions. Like, how is it possible to speak a language and not speak a language at the same time? What experiences could even lead you to do that?
You captured the feeling of not being able to do something that apparently was natural to you as a child really well by saying that it “baffles” you. You’re right–it’s confusing, and it feels like a piece of your identity is missing. I know this is like, really different but I used to eat steak straight off the bone when I was a baby. But now, I can barely stand the taste and texture.
I like how you ended by lamenting “struggling to find [your] own words.” Because a lot of people tend to miss that not fully speaking your native language is not just an inconvenient struggle with basic communication–it’s a struggle to express yourself to the people you love.