Game of tongues
A matter of linguistic identities
What happens to me is no unique case. As I explore new writers and podcasters to get inspiration from, I have found that this occurs to everybody who is bilingual - no matter what languages are involved.
There are some rare specimens of course who have developed a muscle for it, and can speak various tongues without getting tied. But not even in Canada everyone speaks French, just like where I am from not everyone speaks English; even though such languages are part of the required educational curriculum of their respective lands.
During a business trip to L.A. I had the opportunity to hear a similar situation from Brazilians who live in border areas with their Spanish-speaking neighbors. In those areas the Portunhol (in Spanish, Portuñol) was developed. A mutation that arose as a result of a linguistic clash and that mixes her beautiful Portuguese accent with Spanish.
I also met some Japanese people who were also victims of bilingualism and have developed their own middle ground… or tongue. Just like Spanglish.
In the years I have been writing (or at least trying to) there has always been a constant battle between what I write, and the language in which I write it. In the minutes that it has taken me to write these very lines, I have translated every word, back and forth, in my head - to decide which language feels more natural.
That is a typical approach to publishing anything, for me. I have caught myself trying to speak things out before I start writing or recording, and generally, I tend to end up writing or recording first in the tongue that had the better taste.
I am no native English speaker. If you listen to my podcast, you would notice right away. I am from a Spanish speaking island “in the middle of the ocean” somewhere in the Caribbean. I am from where the English language has been pushed (onto its culture) hard, very hard. No Vaseline involved! And from where Spanish sounds different than Spanish from Spain, and even from that of Telenovelas.
By the time I grew up, we (the people born in that island) had been U.S. citizens for quite some time. I was able to see how a mix of both languages (Spanish, and English) has always been present in my life. In every islander’s life in fact, no matter their level of education.
Even in their denial of the imposed and intrusive English, my parents and grandparents used to speak some of it, that came under the guise of our already mixed tongue (with Spanish, African, Taino); along every other tongues that had tasted the beauty of the Caribbean one way or another - feeding its words with their own languages - Catalan, French, Gaelic, Arab…
The difference is that I never really had to speak any of those languages separately. It is not like I was born before they arrived. No! I was born hundreds of years after. There was no class at school for them, or T.V. programs. They were already embedded into the culture, and I grew up speaking them, English too, without knowing it! Where I am from, people grow up speaking those tongues, or at least a taste of it, thinking that it is pure Spanish (until someone from Spain listens to us and says something like “Joder, no entiendo un carajo!”1
English however wasn’t just a topic at school. It was encouraged in order to reach another level - a better job, travel, intellectual aptitude, and the possibility of a better life on the big land - no visa required. Which I ended up doing. English to me has been enriching, because it has opened doors to many other thoughts and voices that I would have not accessed, had I decided that it was an intrusion rather than an expansion of my head.
Language has nothing to do with patriotism, loyalty, or the love of a culture… but with communication, with art, with… understanding.
As I grew up, English was becoming even more present. That was the result of Americanization trying to push away what the Spanish had left us from hundreds of years ago (before anybody in that island even said the word “Yes”). Also, from whatever was left from thousands of years prior, before anybody on that island ever said the word "Si"; from way back when BBQ (barbacoa) saw its first flames.
English became more and more present by 2013. I (with my wife, stepson, and daughter) packed everything and jumped the pond. We moved from somewhere in the Caribbean - to Austin, Texas, where English was very different from that of the movies - and from my limited perception. But given a few years living in the south, y'all get it.
Living in the main US has created a reality in which both English and Spanish exist at the same time-space continuum as Español e Ingles. Two parallel universes interacting with each other in the same space, but they speak differently.
Let me explain what happens in my head when I have a conversation in either language. A glitch happens. A distortion in the fabric of spoken communication that pulls me to the center of those instances in which I speak everything I want to say, in every language I speak, all at once. ‘What?’ becomes ‘Que?’, ‘Entonces’ becomes ‘Then’ - and in between? A fusion where, “I am excited about telling you something” becomes, “Estoy so excited por decirte something”.
This is an issue when I speak with people who do not speak both languages, when I get comfortable and start throwing subconscious tied-up words that confuse the receiver. I see it in their eyes. They start squinting, they pull their heads back a bit, and they reciprocate with a vague smile and a “Right?”, or “Ah, si, si, si”.
When I started writing I hadn’t jumped the pond yet; and I use to do in English (very badly) to sound cool, and I wrote in Spanish (equally badly) when I was saying something that came from the heart. But now that they both exist simultaneously, I write in either language or in both at the same time whenever I feel like it; also, when I don't want to but I have to.
When I started Vertientes y Tangentes (Slopes & Tangents) I made the decision that the space will always be bilingual. I had come to terms with my speaking identity and how I think better (which is when I think in both languages at the same time). Which is cool, and confusing!
Depending on how the week is going (mood, work, home issues, etc.) this could be as simple as blinking, especially at the beginning of the week. By then my mind is already a little rested from screens and articles for work, and research. In a busy week, generally, by Thursday I am already losing my English - and my Spanish feels lost. I sound like I’m wasted.
In a very heavy week, by Friday I need a few drinks and some time alone to collect my thoughts, and that's when hiking comes in handy. When alone in the woods I can mouth any mumble, I want (Spanish, English, Spanglish, and whatever) because there is nobody who listens - and deer don't answer back.
Before this publishing space I had tried a few times to keep a consistent writing practice, but the language issue always ended up taking my muse. While I thought that I only had to write in Spanish to “respect where I come from”, writing in English was also an issue because of “Who am I to think that I can write in English?”
Honestly, very few people ever said anything about what language I should stick to. It was mostly in my head (it is still in there). However, where I am from, there is a phenomenon called “Miedo al Inglés” (fear of English). Which comes as the result of a sense of inferiority that has been around the island for over a century, along of course with a bad educational system.
But there (in the island) we have English all around (music, magazines, social media, video games, computers, etc.). Students take English classes as part of the curriculum from pre-K up to first year or two of university (if I remember correctly), and yet we grow afraid of speaking it.
There, most private schools enjoy a better English education (conversational, and written). But the majority? Well, you know how it is papi? Right through!
Self-induced or indoctrinated, this has been a big issue for me for many years; but I refuse to let it decide what I write or say in the language that I decide. However,…
I have gotten into the practice of translating most of the things that I write and publish - as separate posts on my page. I have found joy and enrichment within each language (separately, and together). I am having the pleasure of exploring the depths of such a thing called translation - where I allow myself to navigate the same ideas but spoken differently.
Shame and fear have turned into curiosity and desire to learn to write and speak both languages better. That along the constant reminder of my wife telling me to stop apologizing for speaking how I speak - and she is right!
Navigating between both tongues I have found space to exist. Slowly but in progress, bilingualism is not a dilemma anymore (not entirely at least), it is a benefit. A hybrid advantage that allows me to travel between worlds; to play with tongues. To taste different accents. To lick ideas with different taste buds - in one tongue, and the other the other tongue, and in a mix of both.
Sometimes those tongues want to speak at the same time, and the three join the game together. Sometimes it is a fight honestly; but accepting it has helped me see it as a pleasure to look forward to.
A tongue threesome! Spanish with its accent and sensuality, English with its sharpness and its own mixed identities, and Spanglish with its two ways to please them both.
It is a game of tongues!
Dam, I don’t understand jack shit!