By Anonymous
“Very the good!”
I remember my mother would say this when I was in eighth grade. When she heard about my day at school, or if she was very happy about something, she’d exclaim those words tinged with her accent. Then she’d suddenly catch herself, as if she had tripped, and followed up with: “Don’t repeat that to your English teacher. She won’t be happy if I’m teaching you wrong English.”
I had no idea why my English teacher would be angry if she heard that. My mom was just expressing her happiness, and I got the message anyway. However, as I grew up, I noticed the smaller things I hadn’t recognized before. The way my parents would try to speak more clearly when talking to the parents at my elementary school, and how their dispositions would become meeker. The way the person over the phone’s tone would change when they realized my dad couldn’t pronounce the r-sound very well. The way my mother would stutter over words and switch up the pronouns she’d use for me and my brother all the time. All the little things piled up until I realized why my parents thought my English teacher would be unhappy. Or rather, why they didn’t want me to repeat the things they said.
If I were to speak like them, then I would be treated like them as well. Even if the other person couldn’t see me, hearing my voice was enough to help them make up their mind about who I was or who my parents were. It was an unspoken rule that I didn’t fully understand, but I adhered to. My parents’ English never rubbed off on me like they feared it would. As someone who grew up in the mold of adhering to society’s standards of English, I can say I enjoy the privilege of being someone who has never had to go through the things my parents did or that some of my friends do.
On the flip side, my English comes at the expense of my mother tongue. My parents did not speak Mandarin or Cantonese with me at home out of concern it would affect my English. Now, people ask, aren’t you Chinese? Why can’t you speak Chinese? It is as if my English is secondary to my cultural identity and who I am supposed to be in their eyes. I sound like I’m Caucasian-American, but I don’t look like them, so of course, there is an expectation that I’m different. In fact, it might be considered strange that I even speak “amazing” English in the first place.
Spending so much time trying to fit into the puzzle of society to the point that I don’t remember what shape my piece was originally has put me into a space where I’m neither here nor there. I never imagined that leaving behind a culture to embrace another would leave me with nothing. That is one of the many lasting consequences of linguistic prejudice when it comes to judging people’s speech. On one hand, people look down on others who don’t utilize “proper English.” On the other hand, racial stereotypes and prejudices bring people to think that you are less, even if you can speak textbook English.
I’ve begun to come to the idea that speaking “standard English” exists only in the minds of those who knowingly or unknowingly propagate that thought. In fact, language is the reflection of the cultures and peoples that make it up, and even English is not a monolithic language despite its growing use. Despite textbook English being taught to many new speakers, language does not exist in the pages of a book, no matter how “standard” it’s supposed to be. Throughout America, there are people who speak different types of slang that are acceptable. Double negatives like “ain’t” or “not nothing” or slang like “y’all” and “gonna” are all used in everyday life without anyone batting an eye. However, accents, broken grammar, and attempts to translate a saying from one language to another somehow get strange looks from all across the room. There is a double standard in linguistics, and there is prejudice against people who learn English as their second language or those who speak different dialects of English. Somehow, they are lesser for whatever reason, such as not being ‘proper’ or ‘understandable.’
The truth is that we grow up speaking the way we do because of the people around us. We want to emulate the speech we’ve grown familiar and comfortable with. At home, I speak Chinglish, a combination of Chinese and English, because there are some words in Chinese that I know wouldn’t have the same effect if I said them in English, and I want my parents to feel the weight of it in a way only they know how. My friends speak in languages that aren’t English to their families and other friends. They switch to slang and acronyms in casual settings. People code-switch all the time to communicate with other people. It’s normal, natural, and ultimately human, regardless of whether you know you’re doing it or not.
However, feeling shame when you have to code-switch, feeling embarrassed and unconfident, is the result of judgment and prejudice in a society that devalues things that aren’t “standard.” There have been many times in my life that I’ve seen people apprehensive about speaking English because they are scared that they will say something wrong. If they’re not fluent and can’t express themselves in their own words, they lose the confidence to communicate their thoughts and silence themselves. My parents, coworkers, friends, and even customers I handle at work tend to diminish themselves in speech so people don’t judge them for their accent, lack of command over English, or need to translate a word they know in their mother tongue.
As someone who can only speak English fluently and is learning other languages, I feel that having empathy for people who are also learning English as a second or even third language is important in uplifting others. I feel insecure when I speak while learning another language, either because I’m vulnerable to judgment or because I’m scared I won’t be understood. Even that feeling is only at a conversational level. In professional settings, these feelings may be amplified to a greater extent to the point that they interfere with how one is treated at work and how well one performs.
Just because someone can’t answer you in English does not mean that they do not know the answer. I’ve been guilty of trying to finish my parents’ sentences when it seems like they’re struggling with the words or if I’m impatient to hear the answer. However, as much as giving the word can help sometimes, it can also decrease a speaker’s confidence in being able to say the right thing. Perhaps they can’t find or don’t know the words to express themselves properly. Assuming that someone not saying something is the equivalent of them not knowing is a false narrative, and correlating intelligence with command of language discourages empathy and communication. Ultimately, everyone brings something to the table, and how they speak should not interfere with our hearing of what they’re trying to say.