Longing to belong
Recently, I learnt about this thing called "Language ego" from my Coursera TESOL course, and it's something I've always been subconsciously aware of, but didn't know had a name to it. "Language ego" is the idea that your identity is tied to the language you speak, and that means when second language learners speak a different language, their identity shifts a little. To illustrate this idea, here are two examples:
#1, I've always resented the fact that I'm not nearly as witty or sharp when I speak Mandarin or BM as when I am when I speak English.
#2, I become meeker when I have to speak a second or third language because my lack of language mastery makes me slightly less confident.
As a result, I sometimes feel that people I communicate to in a different language don't know the real me. And this is a feeling that has followed me my entire life - the feeling that I never truly belonged in all the communities that I've been a part of.
Growing up as a predominantly English-speaking Chinese, I never really fit in with my Chinese friends who much more immersed in Chinese culture and spoke way better Mandarin than I did. My parents sent me to a Chinese school so that I'd pick up the language, and it worked. To this day, I'm grateful for their foresight as being fluent in Mandarin allows me to communicate with friends from Mainland China. Back then, not fitting in in school wasn't much of an issue because I could always turn to my family and church friends to fully express myself.
College wasn't much better, because I went to a government college where the majority was Malay in ethnicity and spoke about every conceivable Malay dialect. Coming from a background in which Malay was my third language, and having only learnt formal forms in school, there were times when my Malay friends would laugh at not just my awful pronunciation, but also overly stiff and proper forms of expression. In order to fit in, I had to unlearn the proper grammar that got me an A1 for SPM BM and instead, pick up West Malaysian slang and colloquialisms. I made some good friends, too, but given the cultural differences, I always felt more like a neutral observer from the outside rather than an insider.
You'd think that coming to the States where everyone speaks English would be just exactly what I needed, but it wasn't quite so. The British English I learnt growing up doesn't sound quite the same as the Southern American drawl. I also don't have a British accent, sadly. =P Besides that, there were cultural differences. People here greet strangers with a smile and everyone talks to everyone. Even if I didn't admit it fully to myself, there was a certain way I wanted people to perceive me and to be accepted. So I became more outgoing and friendly, and put on a happy face most of the time. I wasn't necessarily masking my true feelings (I usually AM happy), but in my natural state, I'm not very outgoing or adventurous. But what can you do when almost everyone you meet is a new friend or an acquaintance? You're not going to show them your deepest, darkest side upon making a connection. That stuff takes years. And if you don't put on a brave face and reach out, good luck making ANY friends at all.
Sometimes, I also wonder why it matters so much to me to feel truly accepted and belong to a community, and if I'll ever truly belong to a community at some point. And then I wonder if maybe, this is how everyone secretly feels, regardless of how well they seem to fit into a particular clique. Maybe it's because this isn't our real home, and it just makes us long for Heaven a little more, where there will be perfect love, joy and unity, among other good things. And I am reminded again that "this world is not my home, I'm just a-passin' through."
#1, I've always resented the fact that I'm not nearly as witty or sharp when I speak Mandarin or BM as when I am when I speak English.
#2, I become meeker when I have to speak a second or third language because my lack of language mastery makes me slightly less confident.
As a result, I sometimes feel that people I communicate to in a different language don't know the real me. And this is a feeling that has followed me my entire life - the feeling that I never truly belonged in all the communities that I've been a part of.
Growing up as a predominantly English-speaking Chinese, I never really fit in with my Chinese friends who much more immersed in Chinese culture and spoke way better Mandarin than I did. My parents sent me to a Chinese school so that I'd pick up the language, and it worked. To this day, I'm grateful for their foresight as being fluent in Mandarin allows me to communicate with friends from Mainland China. Back then, not fitting in in school wasn't much of an issue because I could always turn to my family and church friends to fully express myself.
College wasn't much better, because I went to a government college where the majority was Malay in ethnicity and spoke about every conceivable Malay dialect. Coming from a background in which Malay was my third language, and having only learnt formal forms in school, there were times when my Malay friends would laugh at not just my awful pronunciation, but also overly stiff and proper forms of expression. In order to fit in, I had to unlearn the proper grammar that got me an A1 for SPM BM and instead, pick up West Malaysian slang and colloquialisms. I made some good friends, too, but given the cultural differences, I always felt more like a neutral observer from the outside rather than an insider.
You'd think that coming to the States where everyone speaks English would be just exactly what I needed, but it wasn't quite so. The British English I learnt growing up doesn't sound quite the same as the Southern American drawl. I also don't have a British accent, sadly. =P Besides that, there were cultural differences. People here greet strangers with a smile and everyone talks to everyone. Even if I didn't admit it fully to myself, there was a certain way I wanted people to perceive me and to be accepted. So I became more outgoing and friendly, and put on a happy face most of the time. I wasn't necessarily masking my true feelings (I usually AM happy), but in my natural state, I'm not very outgoing or adventurous. But what can you do when almost everyone you meet is a new friend or an acquaintance? You're not going to show them your deepest, darkest side upon making a connection. That stuff takes years. And if you don't put on a brave face and reach out, good luck making ANY friends at all.
Sometimes, I also wonder why it matters so much to me to feel truly accepted and belong to a community, and if I'll ever truly belong to a community at some point. And then I wonder if maybe, this is how everyone secretly feels, regardless of how well they seem to fit into a particular clique. Maybe it's because this isn't our real home, and it just makes us long for Heaven a little more, where there will be perfect love, joy and unity, among other good things. And I am reminded again that "this world is not my home, I'm just a-passin' through."
Comments
Post a Comment