May said something during today's reflections on the documentary film that resonated with me after class ended.
I too lost the ability to speak my family's native tongue at an early age, but I have never really thought about it in terms of being an Asian American and what it might mean. One of the many languages my parents speak, Kannada, was my first language. My first words were Kannada, but by the time I had finished kindergarten I had completely lost the ability to speak Kannada and was only speaking in and responding to English. Even though today I completley understand the language when heard, I cannot correctly put sentences together myself. My brother, on the other hand, cannot understand anything my parents say when spoken to in Kannada. The language is competley lost with him, and he shows no signs of wanting to learn in the hopes of passing it on to the next generation of our family. It's interesting to think that if I make no effort now, Kannada may be lost with my generation (in the family).
Today's documentary seemed to portray the protagonists loss of language as a sign of her adoptive family (which could be seen as a metaphor for American culture and structure) stripping away her culture. I think supression of her original culture was what led to her lifelong search for an identity. But thinking about the loss of a language in terms of my family, it seems as if my parents stripped away part of our identity as well. And left us with quite the burden. Because my parents never enforced Kannada on me when I began to lose it, I have lost a piece of my identity. I am not able to converse with my grandma who lives in India. I have become more American. Because my parents did not speak fluent Kannada to my brother (due to the loss of the language they watched me experience), he has lost that whole identity.
Currently I have found myself questioning how the loss of this language will affect my future identity and the identity of my future family. If I am never able to speak fluent Kannada, does that mean my children will not? Won't that make them even more American than me? Has my parent's choice to not enforce Kannada left me with the decision of whether or not the language continues on in the family? I can't help but feel that I may be changing the identity of our family from Asian American to American Asian.
Yes, my parents coming to this country makes us Asian Americans. But soon, will anyone even be able tell that that was the case?
This same topic struck me after our Monday class. I had always associated one's "identity" with how they look or how they were raised, but never the language that they speak.
ReplyDeleteThe scene in which Deann first visits her biological family, she says to her mother, "I don't understand a word they're saying." Though they're biologically related, the awkwardness between them two were very clear. They could not communicate with each other, although communication is, I guess, the most important skill in life.
Although I consider myself as fluent in two languages, I find myself more comfortable speaking English than Japanese. Because I slip into English most of the time, native Japanese speakers (like my parents) can spot the subtle grammatical errors in my Japanese. When I've had meals or interviews conducted in Japanese, most of the time I got comments that I was more "American" than Japanese simply because my sentence structures were not like those of "typical" Japanese people. It's pretty depressing to get those comments because identity-wise I am Japanese and nothing will change that.
I was also stuck by how Deann seemed so out of place around her Korean family simply because of looks. She had plastic surgery to look more American, and even her vibe seemed American in a way. Deann definitely suffered through an identity crisis because though she tried to be or thought she was "American" a part of her knew she'd forever be Korean.
Isha, Your post brought to my mind the whole "America as a melting pot" scenario. Barely any of the people in the US today have heritages that link them all the way back to Native Americans. As we know much of our population came from England originally and Africa in the Slave Trade. During the first huge immigration to the US there were possible distinctions to be made between people who came from England and other European countries. Today if someone I didn’t know looked at me, they’d probably have no idea what my ancestry was. From the melding of gene pools and the intersection of multiple heritages, the “melting pot” of American citizens has truly become just that. Of course with the social construct of race in the mix people would allegedly have an easier time of guessing, but even then, it’s likely that the average person wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between mixed race people.
ReplyDeleteBy looking at me you would not necessarily be able to tell that I have Irish, English, French and German ancestries. It’s possible that someone might guess at least one or two of my background heritages, but they would never be able to know that my childhood was very connected with Asian Americans. My babysitter as a child from about 2 or 3 to 5 was Malaysian. I grew up surrounded by a house full Asian Americans, hearing their language and eating their food… and it became my food. I ate it and I loved it and I even learned Malaysian. We found this out when my mother tried to give me bath and I started screaming at her in Malaysian. I now remember only the words ebo (mother/mommy) and the word for water, which I have no idea how to spell.
Basically I think my point is that your point Isha, is prevalent all over America. The melting pot effect is the cause of this blending of culture/community and even I have lost a language that linked to an large defining point of my life, but as a white/Caucasian/European/whatever you want to call me American, didn’t feel it had as much of an effect on me. Now I realize that it’s the same effect. My nanny and her family changed my life by including me in their culture as Asian Americans and I took it in and let it into my life, and then, as a child not knowing the amazing opportunity I was presented with, let it slip through my fingers. I think that what is happening to you Isha, is a natural progression of American citizens and as sad as it is, it’s happening everywhere.
I also thought this part of "First Person Plural" was relevant to my experience as an Asian American. Watching Deann, who seemed so distant from her biological family due to the language barrier, resonated with me because I feel as if I cannot consider myself as simply "Asian" rather than "Asian American" because I am not fluent in Chinese. Over the summer, I had the same types of difficulties speaking with my relatives in Taiwan and consequently became more withdrawn because I was unable to express myself in a language I was not comfortable speaking. To see Deann have the same struggle with her family in Korea made me think about how language shapes familial relations and identity.
ReplyDelete