In 10th grade English students read Their Eyes Were Watching God by Zora Neal Hurston. As we completed the book we began an inquiry of language in our lives. During this inquiry the main question we were investigating was "What are the relationships between language, power, and culture?" To investigate this question we analyzed the language in Their Eyes and then we read several different essays that relate to issues of language, identity, and power. For a complete list of the essays click here.

Students were then given the Language Autobiography assignment:

Your language autobiography will be an autobiographical paper in which you investigate some of the themes from our language unit and relate them to your life. The paper should be at least two pages long (Times 12 point, double spaced). The expectation for this paper is a polished piece of writing that combines personal experience with larger analysis and reflection. To these ends your paper must contain at least one descriptive scene along with deeper analysis. You may choose to incorporate quotes from the language essays we are reading together but this is not required. You will definitely be incorporating quotes in the scenes that you will be integrating into the paper.

You could frame your autobiography around one of the following questions or you can come up with topics of your own.

• How does your language relate to your history?
• What is the relationship between language and power?
• What might the language you use say about you?
• How does language intersect with identity?
• Is language an area of conflict in your home? In school? In other aspects of your life?
• How do you consciously change your ways of speaking? Do you code-switch?
• Do you have a public persona that is different from your intimate persona?

Students began the essay by writing descriptive scenes of memory that related to the issue of language in some way. (Descriptive scenes were a skill we had worked on earlier in the year.) They then used these scenes to develop larger ideas about language in their lives and used these to frame their Language Autobiogrpahies.

Below are some examples:

Guyanese Born America I Reside, by Shareesa Bollers

Growing up in another country is an awesome thing, because you are exposed to many different cultures, but it can also be an element of oppression. Language is looked as something that we speak, but it is more so an identification. Language identifies you in a way that race never can, because language is a reflection of your environment, and race is just the way you or your parents look. If you speak in a proper dialect people will assume that you are from a learned community, and automatically look at you as a respected individual. If you speak with a southern tongue you will be assessed with all of the stereotypes that are commonly known for southerners. As soon as you open your mouth, not only do words escape, but also you give away your position in the world. On my very first words society will categorize me, determine whether I will have a future of not. They will not think that it is my culture, the only way I know how to speak, or it’s how I grew up hearing everyone around me speak daily.
The scorching sun mixed with the red sand from the road causing the grass to sweat. Today was different. The usual lonely street was buzzing with women, men and kids dressed in their best dresses, and shoes heading to town. Families sacrificed their weekly checks to buy outfits for this day. Uncaring if they had to pick calaloo for lunch, or eat shine rice the next day. Today was worth it cause Mash only comes once a year. I was standing at the pipes waiting for my bucket to full, when I saw Dornel coming up the yelling for my brother whilst eight houses away, which is basically his daily routine.
“Ey Baby! Babay!” He hollered. “Boy what de hell you doing sleeping with the sun done rise on ya. Everyday I have to come and wake ya skunt up?” The steps creaked under Dornel’s weight as he walked up.
When you migrate, you leave your true self behind. Although no one ever told me that I cannot speak Guyanese Creole upon arrival in America,, from the time that I crossed the borders, and landed at JFK I knew that mentally I had died. I couldn’t just be a Guyanese, but I had to be a Guyanese living in America. What was I going to do with my accustomed language?
“Morning Miss Cathy.”
“Morning Dornel.”
“Miss Cathy, you aint gah work you need Baby fuh do? This boy sleeping late mawning.”
“ Boy Dornel you know I thus do all me work my damn self. I gah nuff men in de house, but they good for nothing.”

I was given two crowds to live up to, the Guyanese one which was very blatant with their expressions, and didn’t have an age-stratified context, and the American one that I was gonna have to find out about. Guyanese told me to never forget my roots, and always stay true to myself, because I can only be Shareesa. Later on I learned about the American crowd. Who made it quite clear that I was no longer living in Guyana so I needed to become more, and more like an American. How was I going to forget my customary dialect? Even if I did would that mean that I was eliminating my culture?
“Dornel?”
“Yes Miss Cathy?”
“You aint going out today. You know all the young people gon be on the streets dancing, it’s customary.”
“Yea later. As soon as this cricket match finish.”
“Alrite then pickney make ya self comfortable, I busy in heh. I know yall children, and ya cricket. Cant live without the thing I tell ya.”
It didn’t take long for Shareesa to be transformed into something different. I was put in between a pond, and on either side there were two different languages. I made a mental decision to lean towards the closer one. Describing myself was never the same. How could I explain my culture, when I wasn’t allowed to speak it? How was I supposed to reply to an American friend when asked me about my favorite holiday in Guyana, if I couldn’t use my dialect to build up the momentum of Mash? The difference in cultures can never be used as a learning too, because you are always forced to be “either” “or, never both. Did we ever think about the difference it would make in the enlightening of the world to our kids if we incorporated two cultures?
"I feel crushed when someone asks me to speak Guyanese, because don’t matter how much I try I cant bring myself to ever pronounce my words the way I would in Guyana in a “normal conversation.” For example instead of saying what, in Guyana I would say “wuh” or “wuah.” “Wuh yuh seh?” has transformed to “what did you say?” or “pardon me.”
As soon as I opened my mouth to speak on American soil, I knew that I would have to talk; as we call Americans in Guyana a “yankee.” At first the idea that I was demolishing my initial identity never surfaced my mind, because although I changed my way of speaking everyone still knew that I was an immigrant when I spoke.
Transforming your language isn’t just a circumstantial thing/one time occurrence, but it becomes brain washing, because even when I am home I find myself speaking proper “British English” as I know it. Having to speak “proper” English beyond my house at first was strenuous, but because I’ve grown accustomed to it I keep that “proper” tongue on all the time. Language alone gives me three external battles to fight daily.
Guyana my homeland being governed by the Great Britain’s until 1966 has a great British influence. So I grew knowing the British version of English. Many Guyanese subside to different forms of slang, because depending on the part of the country you live that is the amount of English, and education you will receive. I lived on the coastal reigns so I learned coastal slang. However I went to school in the city so I learned city slang in my scholastic environment. So on top of being expected to speak proper English, I am expected to speak American English, and I grew up speaking the British’s version for fourteen years so that is an internal struggle by itself.
I am a confident, free-minded person. I’m not afraid to say what’s on my mind. Every time I open my mouth to speak I run a mental check in my head, because there are only three different accents that can come out of my mouth. Why should I, a smart, articulate, and talented young lady have to second-guess the way she is going to say something, and not what she’s going to say? Should the accent matter? Or should it be the context? What then do we define as articulation? The way our words are spoken? Or the clarity of the accent in which it was spoken?

Language and Environment by Jerome Mcleod

Language Autobiography by Yousuf Khaled

The unbearable heat beat across my back as my family and I sluggishly walked up the hill. Our only motivation was what was at the top. It was worth the walk, for when we reached the top the great sphinx of Egypt greeted us. “Yousuf shof ma akbarha.” My dad said in awe. “Yeah it is big.” I replied. We continued on to the great pyramids of Giza.

“I wanna climb to the top.” My brother yelled excitedly.

“Mafik Faisal Ilshorta yinhabsak.” I said sternly.

“Why would they arrest you?” he asked.

“Cause so many people died trying to climb it.” I replied. We took some pictures near the pyramids and decided that the heat was too much for us so we got a taxi to take us home.

“Guys when we get in the taxi don’t say anything. If the driver knows we’re from America whowa rah yithak elyna.” my dad said before we got in the taxi.

“Why would he try to cheat us?” My sister asked.

“Because he’ll know we don’t know the city.” My mom replied.

This was unclear to me then but now I understand that the taxi drivers used language as a way to identify people. If you spoke Arabic strangely they would surely know that you were from another country. They would exploit that and use it to cheat you.

When we got in the car the taxi driver eyed us all down. I stared straight back at him.

“Asalam uelikum.” He greeted us. “Wa elikum asalam.” My father responded. “Wan bidakit roh?” He asked.

“Elah el Hilton tanimerof. ” Dad replied.

“Akhmin wayne?” He said.

“Ana min lobnan.” replied Dad.

I was starting to get a little worried seeing as my dad just told him that we are from Lebanon therefore, revealing that we weren’t from around here. My worries were soothed away when they started talking about politics. That means they’re getting along. When we got to the hotel the driver had a big smile on his face. We forgot to ask him how much we were going to pay him, allowing him to decide.

“40 gina” The driver said happily. My father took that like a smack in the face.

“Lash 40 gina?” Dad said confoundedly. He had no choice; the rule in Egypt is if you don’t decide they do. That was the first of many times I would witness someone getting swindled by a taxi driver.

By now I’m starting to understand the real power of language. Whether you like it or not what the first words you say to anyone will tell people where you’re from, your social class, your intelligence, and even your religion. You say a lot more then you think.

The next day we decided to go to a Museum in Cairo. We got a taxi a block away from the hotel so it would be more difficult for them to see us as Ajnabi or foreign. This time the taxi driver treated us nicely. When we got to the museum a strange man walked over to us.

“Assalumo elakum” He greeted us.

“Waelakum as salam.” We greeted back.

“Would you guys like a tour?” He asked in perfect English.

“Ea.” We said. So off we went in the museum with this strange man as our tour guide. We told him to give us an English tour because my siblings and I wouldn’t fully understand him. We got to the mummy exhibit, which you have to pay for separately, and the Tour Guide said:

“Here is the mummy exhibit.”

“ Don’t talk when we go get the tickets or they’ll charge us more” Dad said in a whisper. I understood that language identified you but I didn’t know it was to this extent. I looked at the prices and there were three sets: Arabs, foreigners, and Khaligy or people from the Persian Gulf. I asked my mom who were in the Persian Gulf and she said that they where people from: Saudi Arabia, UAE, Qatar, Iraq, Iran, and some other countries. I was extremely surprised that a government owned museum would discriminate not only to those not from the Middle East but also to those who are from the gulf. As I was gazing at the mummies of Egypt and of my past experience in Egypt I wondered. The people of the gulf can easily be identified by the way they speak. People could look at their speech and would charge them accordingly. Language is a very powerful thing in my culture it can bring you up or it can destroy you. It dictates who are your friends, what school you go to, and many other things. The worst part is that no matter what we do there is no way we can stop it.

Links to other exemplary Language Autobiographies:

Shamear

James

Jasmine

Bryanna

Chris

Josh

Melanie

Sam