Rugeaitu Bah ​

 

1-5-10

 

 

Knowing the language doesn’t always means that you’re able to pronounce the words correctly, around the world many people speaks different languages

 

 

“Say Street” My friend said in a very snarky tone, “ShhTreek” I attempted to repeat. “No Street” she said. “ShTreet,” I said again you could hear anger building in my throat.

She began to try to coach me again with saying the word she said “Okay say tree”

I again repeated her “Tree.” I could tell she was becoming restless when she said “ Okay now put an S on the beginning of tree.” “Okay, streck,” I Said. “No S-Tree-t” She screamed. “Forget it, I can’t say it right, don’t waist your time trying to help me.” I said in a frustrated monotone voice. “ It’s easy, I mean you know how to speak English so I don’t know why you can’t say “street” right?” She said with a sarcastic voice it seemed as if she was making a mockery out of me. At this point I was very upset and shouted, “ I don’t know why, I just can’t! Bye.” I said

 

I have had many stages in my life when I would reach a point that silence is all I could muster up, my mouth would shut as if my tongue was like a finger that got slammed in the door, it was throbbing wanting something to come out but it just couldn’t. When I’m around my friends, I “talk black” which is normal for me, I say some words differently then I usually say when I’m around my parents. “Sup Yo” I would say when I’m with my friends and “Hello” I would say when I’m around my friends. My friends say they can hear my accent a little.)

 

I’m supposed to speak another language by the name of Fula, but I don’t because I never lived with my father, that is his native language. I traveled from my country, Liberia to America because my dad wanted us to move here and establish a new life. He thinks there’s better education and changes in America for us. I Spoke English in my country but it wasn’t the same as the way people speak English in America. My English was so different that, whenever I talked to a person from America, they would have a confused face. Some of the words are the same just when we say those words it then becomes different, “Hello, Oo” that’s what we would say in my language.

  

 When it reaches the time to go back to school, I pray that I won’t mess up when I’m reading aloud in class. I know how to read, but sometimes I get mad at myself because it’s very hard for me to pronounce some words correctly in the way. I listen to how other kids in my classes speak and pronounce words. Their voices don’t have an accent, they don’t sound as if they’re nervous, I don’t hear fear in their voice. In the essay The Women Warrior, (Maxine Hong Kingston), the author describes when her little sister and her had to read in front of their teacher, they were scared that they might mess up. In the story the author was scared when it was her little sister’s turn to read. “She opened her mouth and a voice came out that wasn’t a proper either.” When you know a language, you don’t always know how to pronounce words in that language, the author and her little sister clearly knew or were engage in the English speaking language, but they didn’t know how to say or pronounce some words. It’s very difficult to say some words in a language.  

 

“Class, Please take out the class rules sheet” Mr. Kay Said

I Sat down, looking over the paper and praying in my head that he would not call on me. 
“Who wants to read the first paragraph?” –Mr. Kay Said

The other kids raised their hands eagerly ready to read. A lots of kids had already read and it was the time that my heart began to beat extremely fast. I get so nervous it feels like my tongue get stuck between my teeth and the words never come out right when I have to read in front of a large group.  In the Essay, The Women Warrior, By Maxine Hong Kingston, the author describes her reading to her teacher and how she felt, “you could hear the splinter in my voice, bones rubbing jugged against one another.” I always feel exactly the same when I’m reading aloud in class. I let fear take over the fact that I have an accent and I hate the way it sounds when I read. It’s doesn’t sound the same as the other kids when they read in my head it sounds wrong, confusing and people do not understand me.  I get nervous and hate myself because I can’t do anything about it.

 

 

Stephen Holts

“Oreos Are Just Cookies”

 

            “You’re so white!” One student would always say.

            “Yeah! Why don’t you act black?” Another would always chime in.

            “Or at least sound black!” Ever since fifth grade I’ve been subject to insulting remarks like those. But around sixth or seventh grade people started getting original.

            “Yo, you a Oreo. Black on the outside, but white on the inside.”

            I didn’t understand. How did I go from a person to a cookie? Asking questions like that led me to the most important one I’d ever ask. What exactly makes me white? It surely wasn’t my skin. Not to say that I’m especially dark skinned, but I’m dark enough to be incontestably African American, but I digress.

            My peers’ reaction to the question were all the same.

            “You just act and sound white. You’re black. You’re supposed to act and sound black.”

            After hearing this, I asked myself a question that I regretted not asking anyone. What does black sound and act like? What does white act and sound like? Maybe if I asked people this question, they’d realize how stupid they were being. I answered my own question. By observing my white peers and my black peers, I managed to compile a list of qualifications to be black, white, or an Oreo.

            If you’re black, you’re loud. You have a compulsive need to be the center of attention. You’re obnoxious, and if someone doesn’t agree with what you’re saying or doing, you’ll get in their face and scream at them. That’s what black sounds like. If you’re black and male, you’re good at sports. You’re at home with hip-hop. You know every word to every song on the last Lil’ Wayne mixtape, and you yourself can rap like no one’s business. You’re muscular and know how to fight. And because you know how to fight, you won’t back down from one. If someone gives you the faintest reason to, you’ll fight. You don’t need words. Violence are your words. Your words are for bragging after you’ve won the fight. Blacks don’t read. Blacks don’t play tennis. blacks don’t go to prep schools.

            If you’re white, you speak English like you came up with the language yourself. If you’re white you use big words. If you’re white you have the power of calling on any word in the English language and using them to impress whoever you want. Nothing means more to you than education. You’ll ask questions when in class, you’ll listen attentively, and do whatever your teacher tells you too. Rock and Pop are the only genres on your iPod. If you do have a rap song, you white it up by rapping in your high-pitched non-threatening white voice. Fighting isn’t for you if you’re white. You’ll avoid any confrontation that has the slightest possibility of leading to violence. However, you are undefeated in fights, because you use your words to either talk your way out of a fight, or you simply confuse your opponent, leading them to think you’re not worth it. You possess the power of manipulation, and can get what you want without doing anything yourself. You just stand back and watch your puppets do your bidding.

            Oreos are the scum of the Earth. They look one way, but they don’t act the way they look. They’re hypocrites who can’t accept that they’re born one way, and must stay true to that way until they die. They’re hated because they don’t follow the rules of society. Oreos don’t follow the rules blacks must follow. Instead, they follow the rules that whites are made to follow. Oreos speak proper English, don’t have a strict preference for rap, and avoid fights if at all possible. When pressed into a fight, like whites, they’ll talk their way out. They have very vast vocabularies and aren’t afraid to show it. Oreos love reading, and nothing pleases an Oreo more than discussing theories of books with people. Oreos aren’t the only skin traitors, there is also such a thing as an Uh-Oh Oreo.

Uh-Oh Oreos are white on the outside and black on the inside Uh-oh Oreos listen to rap, wear baggy clothes and speak fluent slang. Even though they’re white, they will call other people white if they act like it. They think like blacks and nothing disgusts them more than a traitor that acts different than they look. Which is funny, because they themselves are traitors. Uh-Oh Oreos follow all the rules that blacks are supposed to. They listen to the “right” music, they’re aggressive, and they’re “ignorant”. Any type of Oreo is a traitor because they don’t follow society’s rules of skin.

After defining society’s rules of skin, I realized why I was hated. I was different. Many people followed the rules of race, but I wasn’t one of those followers. I disturbed the racial balance everywhere I went, and to get everything back in balance, the followers of society’s rules had to make me feel bad about myself. They had to make me hate myself enough to change myself.

Through all of the pressure to change myself, I learned two important lessons. The first was that I am who I am, and no one is going to change that. The second is that society’s rules and expectancies of race are only real to the people that follow them. Giona Auzaldúa once said, “I am my language. Until I can take pride in my language I cannot take pride in myself.” I couldn’t agree more. Oreos are just cookies.

Stephen Holts

“Oreos Are Just Cookies”

 

            “You’re so white!” One student would always say.

            “Yeah! Why don’t you act black?” Another would always chime in.

            “Or at least sound black!” Ever since fifth grade I’ve been subject to insulting remarks like those. But around sixth or seventh grade people started getting original.

            “Yo, you a Oreo. Black on the outside, but white on the inside.”

            I didn’t understand. How did I go from a person to a cookie? Asking questions like that led me to the most important one I’d ever ask. What exactly makes me white? It surely wasn’t my skin. Not to say that I’m especially dark skinned, but I’m dark enough to be incontestably African American, but I digress.

            My peers’ reaction to the question were all the same.

            “You just act and sound white. You’re black. You’re supposed to act and sound black.”

            After hearing this, I asked myself a question that I regretted not asking anyone. What does black sound and act like? What does white act and sound like? Maybe if I asked people this question, they’d realize how stupid they were being. I answered my own question. By observing my white peers and my black peers, I managed to compile a list of qualifications to be black, white, or an Oreo.

            If you’re black, you’re loud. You have a compulsive need to be the center of attention. You’re obnoxious, and if someone doesn’t agree with what you’re saying or doing, you’ll get in their face and scream at them. That’s what black sounds like. If you’re black and male, you’re good at sports. You’re at home with hip-hop. You know every word to every song on the last Lil’ Wayne mixtape, and you yourself can rap like no one’s business. You’re muscular and know how to fight. And because you know how to fight, you won’t back down from one. If someone gives you the faintest reason to, you’ll fight. You don’t need words. Violence are your words. Your words are for bragging after you’ve won the fight. Blacks don’t read. Blacks don’t play tennis. blacks don’t go to prep schools.

            If you’re white, you speak English like you came up with the language yourself. If you’re white you use big words. If you’re white you have the power of calling on any word in the English language and using them to impress whoever you want. Nothing means more to you than education. You’ll ask questions when in class, you’ll listen attentively, and do whatever your teacher tells you too. Rock and Pop are the only genres on your iPod. If you do have a rap song, you white it up by rapping in your high-pitched non-threatening white voice. Fighting isn’t for you if you’re white. You’ll avoid any confrontation that has the slightest possibility of leading to violence. However, you are undefeated in fights, because you use your words to either talk your way out of a fight, or you simply confuse your opponent, leading them to think you’re not worth it. You possess the power of manipulation, and can get what you want without doing anything yourself. You just stand back and watch your puppets do your bidding.

            Oreos are the scum of the Earth. They look one way, but they don’t act the way they look. They’re hypocrites who can’t accept that they’re born one way, and must stay true to that way until they die. They’re hated because they don’t follow the rules of society. Oreos don’t follow the rules blacks must follow. Instead, they follow the rules that whites are made to follow. Oreos speak proper English, don’t have a strict preference for rap, and avoid fights if at all possible. When pressed into a fight, like whites, they’ll talk their way out. They have very vast vocabularies and aren’t afraid to show it. Oreos love reading, and nothing pleases an Oreo more than discussing theories of books with people. Oreos aren’t the only skin traitors, there is also such a thing as an Uh-Oh Oreo.

Uh-Oh Oreos are white on the outside and black on the inside Uh-oh Oreos listen to rap, wear baggy clothes and speak fluent slang. Even though they’re white, they will call other people white if they act like it. They think like blacks and nothing disgusts them more than a traitor that acts different than they look. Which is funny, because they themselves are traitors. Uh-Oh Oreos follow all the rules that blacks are supposed to. They listen to the “right” music, they’re aggressive, and they’re “ignorant”. Any type of Oreo is a traitor because they don’t follow society’s rules of skin.

After defining society’s rules of skin, I realized why I was hated. I was different. Many people followed the rules of race, but I wasn’t one of those followers. I disturbed the racial balance everywhere I went, and to get everything back in balance, the followers of society’s rules had to make me feel bad about myself. They had to make me hate myself enough to change myself.

Through all of the pressure to change myself, I learned two important lessons. The first was that I am who I am, and no one is going to change that. The second is that society’s rules and expectancies of race are only real to the people that follow them. Giona Auzaldúa once said that “I am my language. Until I can take pride in my language I cannot take pride in myself.” I couldn’t agree me. Oreos are just cookies.

Stephen Holts

“Oreos Are Just Cookies”

 

            “You’re so white!” One student would always say.

            “Yeah! Why don’t you act black?” Another would always chime in.

            “Or at least sound black!” Ever since fifth grade I’ve been subject to insulting remarks like those. But around sixth or seventh grade people started getting original.

            “Yo, you a Oreo. Black on the outside, but white on the inside.”

            I didn’t understand. How did I go from a person to a cookie? Asking questions like that led me to the most important one I’d ever ask. What exactly makes me white? It surely wasn’t my skin. Not to say that I’m especially dark skinned, but I’m dark enough to be incontestably African American, but I digress.

            My peers’ reaction to the question were all the same.

            “You just act and sound white. You’re black. You’re supposed to act and sound black.”

            After hearing this, I asked myself a question that I regretted not asking anyone. What does black sound and act like? What does white act and sound like? Maybe if I asked people this question, they’d realize how stupid they were being. I answered my own question. By observing my white peers and my black peers, I managed to compile a list of qualifications to be black, white, or an Oreo.

            If you’re black, you’re loud. You have a compulsive need to be the center of attention. You’re obnoxious, and if someone doesn’t agree with what you’re saying or doing, you’ll get in their face and scream at them. That’s what black sounds like. If you’re black and male, you’re good at sports. You’re at home with hip-hop. You know every word to every song on the last Lil’ Wayne mixtape, and you yourself can rap like no one’s business. You’re muscular and know how to fight. And because you know how to fight, you won’t back down from one. If someone gives you the faintest reason to, you’ll fight. You don’t need words. Violence are your words. Your words are for bragging after you’ve won the fight. Blacks don’t read. Blacks don’t play tennis. blacks don’t go to prep schools.

            If you’re white, you speak English like you came up with the language yourself. If you’re white you use big words. If you’re white you have the power of calling on any word in the English language and using them to impress whoever you want. Nothing means more to you than education. You’ll ask questions when in class, you’ll listen attentively, and do whatever your teacher tells you too. Rock and Pop are the only genres on your iPod. If you do have a rap song, you white it up by rapping in your high-pitched non-threatening white voice. Fighting isn’t for you if you’re white. You’ll avoid any confrontation that has the slightest possibility of leading to violence. However, you are undefeated in fights, because you use your words to either talk your way out of a fight, or you simply confuse your opponent, leading them to think you’re not worth it. You possess the power of manipulation, and can get what you want without doing anything yourself. You just stand back and watch your puppets do your bidding.

            Oreos are the scum of the Earth. They look one way, but they don’t act the way they look. They’re hypocrites who can’t accept that they’re born one way, and must stay true to that way until they die. They’re hated because they don’t follow the rules of society. Oreos don’t follow the rules blacks must follow. Instead, they follow the rules that whites are made to follow. Oreos speak proper English, don’t have a strict preference for rap, and avoid fights if at all possible. When pressed into a fight, like whites, they’ll talk their way out. They have very vast vocabularies and aren’t afraid to show it. Oreos love reading, and nothing pleases an Oreo more than discussing theories of books with people. Oreos aren’t the only skin traitors, there is also such a thing as an Uh-Oh Oreo.

Uh-Oh Oreos are white on the outside and black on the inside Uh-oh Oreos listen to rap, wear baggy clothes and speak fluent slang. Even though they’re white, they will call other people white if they act like it. They think like blacks and nothing disgusts them more than a traitor that acts different than they look. Which is funny, because they themselves are traitors. Uh-Oh Oreos follow all the rules that blacks are supposed to. They listen to the “right” music, they’re aggressive, and they’re “ignorant”. Any type of Oreo is a traitor because they don’t follow society’s rules of skin.

After defining society’s rules of skin, I realized why I was hated. I was different. Many people followed the rules of race, but I wasn’t one of those followers. I disturbed the racial balance everywhere I went, and to get everything back in balance, the followers of society’s rules had to make me feel bad about myself. They had to make me hate myself enough to change myself.

Through all of the pressure to change myself, I learned two important lessons. The first was that I am who I am, and no one is going to change that. The second is that society’s rules and expectancies of race are only real to the people that follow them. Giona Auzaldúa once said that “I am my language. Until I can take pride in my language I cannot take pride in myself.” I couldn’t agree me. Oreos are just cookies.

By: Kimberly Parker

 

“I told you, I don’t got your eyeliner!” my sister screamed.

“You don’t HAVE my eyeliner?” I yelled back, making sure I emphasized the have because it really gets under my skin when my sister uses improper language.

“Nah, I don’t got it. That’s your fault, keep track of your stuff, it ain’t my fault you always loosin’ your stuff.”

Just hearing that sentence coming from her mouth made me cringe, improper language is my number one pet peeve. My sister and I were raised to always use proper English. Both of our parents talk virtually flawless all of the time. Growing up, if we said one word out of line, we were immediately corrected. My mother especially held zero tolerance for improper language. If we walked past someone who was talking improperly, a disgusted look would come across my mother’s face and she would warn my sister and I to never use that kind of language, she would say, “You will sound like an idiot if you talk like you are dumb.” I was brought up to believe that improper language is any word that is slang, shortened or when poor grammar is used.

To my mother, if you don’t talk as perfectly as she did then you are either uneducated or just stupid. It doesn’t occur to her why people use different ways to talk the English language. People speak ‘loose English’ because it is a part of their culture and everyday life, they especially use this ‘improper language’ around people they are especially close to.

In fact, improper language is very popular considering it is constantly being used in some of the music we listen to. In the rap and hip hop industry, the lyrics to songs are heavily flawed with grammatical errors. This music uses all kinds of slang and curse words and yet people are getting paid to produce it. Rap and Hip Hop music is in high demands, especially for the younger generations. What these rappers and singers are not thinking about are the children that they are influencing with their lyrics. This kind of music does have a huge influence on people, especially younger kids like my sister. They think it is cool and hip to use the type of language that there favorite singers are using. These kids see these performers as role models and use their language. Ever since my sister has been hanging around a new group friends and listening to rap music, her language has defiantly been effected in a negative way. This just shows how easily children’s language can be influenced. This drives my mother crazy, at first she constantly tried to correct my sister and remind her that she goes to a good school that taught her how to speak the correct way. My mother was implying that my sister was being a fool for using improper language because my sister is in fact educated. This leads to another conclusion that my mother is drawing which is that people who use improper language are not educated, which is not true. I personally cannot stand when people use improper English intentionally but I do think it is also unfair to label people and jump to conclusions. You cannot just assume because a person talks improperly that they are stupid and or uneducated.

Sometimes when my sister uses this improper English, I tease her saying that nobody is going to hire her for a job if she still talks the way she does today. She always just gives me a sour look telling me how dare I think that. I am only trying to help her by informing her that in reality, improper English is not desired in the working industry. If she did go in for a job interview and used improper language, chances are she would not be hired. Jobs are a formal matter, appearance is key and if you speak improperly, it is going to be noticed and frowned upon. Improper language is very unprofessional and in the business world it is never used. It is looked at as being low class and everyone in the business industry wants to be on top. Nobody wants to appear as being low class and that is why the vast majority of the people in this industry have close to flawless English speaking skills.

My sister has been using improper language for two years now and does not see the significance of using ‘proper English.’ Other people as well do not see why speaking properly can be beneficial. Clarence Darrow who was an American lawyer in the 1920’s said, “Even if you do learn to speak correct English, whom are you going to speak it to?” This quote is questioning if speaking correctly is really worth learning. I respectfully disagree with this quote because in this day and age, you can speak correct language to your boss and coworkers who do not want to hear any kind of improper language. By reading this quote, proper English must not have been too important to Clarence and being a lawyer, I don’t see why he would that speaking proper is a waste of time. Being a lawyer, speaking properly is a big part of the job because speaking is in fact your job and the use of proper English is critical. 

The way that English is used is up to the person who speaks it. There are countless variations on how the English language is used and there are many ways to use the language properly and improperly.  This all depends on the person, the person’s history, and surroundings. The way that you use English effects how other people think of you and can often be stereotypical. The use of different variations on the English language can affect your life in both negative and positive ways. What my sister doesn’t realize that she is developing a bad habit that might affect her life down the road in the working industry. If she doesn’t start practicing proper English now, she might always be an improper monster.

 

 

 

Iraida Serrano

Gold Stream

Language Essay

The Truth

“¿Que Pasa?”

“What did you say to me?”

“All I asked was what’s up I don’t see why you have to get mad.”

“Please, for all I know you said something else in that made up language of yours.”

As he, one of my classmates from the 8^th grade walked away from me to join the swarm of kids that were outside playing at recess. As I turned to my friends and all I received was laughter. At the when that this happened I hadn’t been able to understand what he meant. As a way to avoid having this happen again I refused to talk to my friends in Spanish. To me what I had said was simple and easy to understand. For some time after that I felt stupid that I hadn’t switched back to talking in English as soon as I saw him walking towards me.

As I went through the routine of going to class for the rest of the day, I couldn’t help but shake the feeling that what I had said to him was wrong. When I spoke to my mom at home that day, I had accidently spoken in English. Knowing that she barely understood me, I just decided to not talk at home. A few days later back at school, at another recess, the same kid came up to me and made fun of me.  He was saying sounds to act as if he was speaking Spanish. At his parting words he once again repeated what he had said just a few days ago, that my language was made up. This time I decided to gain the courage to ask him what he meant.

 

“Oh look, she don’t know about her dumb language.”

With that he left with his newfound friends, my friends. Ironically my next class was Spanish. I walked into the classroom only to see that the only seat left was the ‘danger seat’. It was called that because sitting there was a guarantee that you would be speaking in class. The boy was sitting two seats behind me and was laughing loudly with my old friends. The teacher went up to the front of the class to start her lesson.

            “O.k., I need someone to come to the front of the class to write and recite a sentence about what you do in the summer. Who would like to come up?”

Everyone had turned his or her head to the side and away from the teacher. I knew that if she picked on me I would have to speak Spanish in front of him again. If the language wasn’t real then what was the point of speaking it, but just my luck, the teacher had picked me. In a desperate attempt to get out of speaking I complained of a sore throat so I could only write the sentence. I did and went back to my seat when I finished.               As I sat there looking at the desk in front of me I heard some people saying that I thought I was better than them because I could write a sentence in Spanish. In the following month I started speaking in Spanish again at home. It was comforting knowing that somewhere, someone accepted the fact that I was bilingual. I now knew that I would have to change how I talked at home from how I talked in school to how I talked with my friends.

            In the words of James Baldwin, “To open you mouth…you have confessed you parents, your youth…and, alas, your future.” He believes that speaking a certain way can led people to figure out your parents, youth, and future and in a way he is correct.             If I hadn’t changed the way I spoke with my classmates, they would have thought that I was acting like a ‘know-it-all’ without even bothering to see if it was true or not. In their eyes, I was a kid with Spanish speaking parents and in the future at the school I would past every test in Spanish just because I spoke it. From then on I only spoke English in school and when in Spanish class I tried to make excuses or just try to not get called on.   I was starting to fit in again.  I was able to talk to my friends and gain new ones. I thought that not being myself had given me a new perspective on the things happening around me. Yet still, in the back of my mind a small voice wouldn’t stop nagging me, telling me that I should be myself and every time that happened I would just push the voice further and further into the back of my mind.

After almost three months of this, I found out the answer to the question that I had asked a few months back. I was helping my mom on researching different languages.       I don’t remember why but I do remember what I found out. Through the research I found out that Spanish originated from Latin. That was not the only one; there are other languages, such as Italian, French, Portuguese, Romanian, and Catalan. I was surprised to say the least. I had spoke Spanish for so long thinking that it was its own language and to my amazement, I was okay with this not being true. I think it was due to the fact that I was apart of something bigger, something unique. It wasn’t just a few words that originated from Latin like in the English language; it was the entire language.

            After that I started to speak in Spanish more freely in other places that weren’t my home.  I finally realized that it was stupid of me to think that talking a certain way in front of people made me fit in. What made me fit in was the fact that I was being who I really am. Sure I lost some of my newly made friends but I gain new ones as well. From then on, I spoke how I wanted and even tried to teach other people how to speak the language, my language.

Cyndi Lynn Sheridan                                                                                                English – E

January 5, 2011

                                                A Trip of Language Chaos

 

“May I have a soda please?”

“Excuse me? What would you like?”

“A soda please.”

(The cashier just gazed at me with a blank stare.)

I tried to organize my thoughts before I was embarrassed even further. I felt my cheeks turning red as if my face was burning up. Then, I thought to myself and realized that maybe the residents of Pittsburgh pronounced or had different words for certain products as compared to how residents of Philadelphia may call them. I just arrived here no more than two days ago for just a simple doctor’s appointment, and I’ve have already been faced with an obstacle involving language. Despite the fact that I was thirteen, I still had trouble grasping languages from around the world. With one more hopeful try, I asked once more but with similar words in which I was trying to portray the first time.

“May I have something to drink?”

“Oh yes, what would you like? We have ‘pop’ if that’s okay.”

Without causing more confusion, I just agreed with what the cashier said. She handed me a bottle of Coca Cola soda bottle. Exactly what I was asking for from the beginning.

“Is that all?” she asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

Walking towards the car, I hilariously shared my experience with my parents. At first, they giggled a little but then just stared at me wondering why things were so different between Philadelphia and Pittsburgh even though they are located in the same state. After explaining what just happened to me, they burst into obnoxious laughter. They tempted to make an effort and describe how certain things conflict with language, environment being one of them. For example, since I was raised in the South Philadelphia region my accent is different then most because I pronounce water by saying “wudder”. Their words of wisdom reminded me of an essay I read in which my view on language was effected.

            In the essay How to Tame a Wild Tongue by Gloria Anzaldía, the main character creates a language to suit her identity as well as the environment she lives in. The girl is experiencing difficulty deciding between speaking one language; therefore she develops a language that correlates between her personality and her opinions. Although I only speak English, sometimes I do the same exact thing depending on where I am. Also, my beliefs on language are quite similar to the author when she states, “ A language, which they can connect their identity to, one capable of communicating the realities and values are true to themselves.”

This shows that a language is spoken and used to appeal one’s characteristics as well as to portray the aspect of a person’s life. Identity clarifies the inner beauty of someone by many actions, language being one of them. This is relevant to me because when I socialize with my friends I usually say things that express how I feel and what I am all about. On occasions, I speak to authority figures with proper vocabulary and a respectful tone in order to show my appreciation, but it still shows who I am despite the community I am involved with.

            After several experiences of being in the state of embarrassment on either the words I used for something or how I pronounced something, I’ve came to realize that there are always struggles you are bound to face throughout life but you have to approach them differently. This means that everyone is unique in their own type of way especially when relating to language, so you just have to keep your head held high and overcome this obstacle without being self-conscientious about yourself. I’ve gained a large amount of knowledge by experiencing faults with my language, but now I have a clear understanding on how to connect with people from different backgrounds.   Acceptance is a main goal that you must be able to accomplish in order to actively engage within a community because then a positive attitude is being conveyed. Also, it allows people to use their language in whichever form they feel comfortable with. Clearly, language reflects upon strength, dignity, power, and beliefs because it either builds or breaks you through your identity.

 

Sierra Dinvil

Gold English

January 6, 2011

Language Essay

 

“And what would you like to order?” the waitress asked as she patiently stood over our table.  

“Can I have a Chicken Quesadilla with –“ I paused, taking my eyes from the Menu to look at her.   She looked back at me with a puzzled look on her face, holding her hand up to her ear, and leaning further in towards the table.  

“She’ll take a chicken quesadilla with no guacamole sauce,” my dad said quickly before I could even repeat myself.

“You need to learn to speak up,” my dad said sternly.   The waitress, and everyone else let out a quick giggle, but I didn’t find anything funny.   As she continued to take my table’s order, I thought about what my dad said.   This isn’t the first time that he’s told me this.    It actually happens every time we go out to eat, or any time we’re out in public.   I used to think that this was a simply a problem that I had in restaurants, but I eventually realized this problem occurred everywhere.

After we left the restaurant, I became more self-conscious of my speech.   When I got home, I went straight to my room to practice making my voice projection louder.   After about an hour I stopped, and was very proud of the progress I thought I was making.   I then started to go downstairs to talk to my mom.

“Do you know where my navy blue pants are?” I asked as I slowly began to walk down the steps.

“What?” she yelled back at me.

“My jeans! Do you know where my jeans are?” I said with an attitude.   It made me a little upset that she couldn’t hear me the first time.

“I can’t hear you,” she yelled back again.

“Either walk all the way downstairs or talk louder!”  I couldn’t believe it.   All that time I wasted in front of a mirror and still showed no signs of progress.   I went back to my room and sat on my bed.   I couldn’t understand how even when I yelled my voice wasn’t loud enough.   Richard Rodriguez once said, “Linguistic difficulties have no serious consequences” insinuating that even if you have a hard time with your speech it is unlikely that you will be penalized for it. My life at the time was proof against his theory.

I had been dealing with this problem for years, and couldn’t figure out an effective way to fix it.   As a result of being so self-conscience of my speech I refrained from speaking in public.   I started to think about this effected not only my personal but life but my school life as well.   I began to think back to my latest report card.   Teachers would constantly give me B’s and C’s in the participation portion of my grade because I would hardly ever contribute to classroom discussions.   However, whenever I did grow the courage to raise my hand to answer a question or contribute to the class, they would ask me to repeat myself or cut me off mid-sentence to tell me to talk louder.   I hated that.   It started to become annoyed after a while, which made me stop participating altogether.   Another result of my poor projection was that I would receive low scores when presenting something orally.   Oral presentations were the one part of school I hated the most.   As soon as I would start presenting, I could immediately tell no one could hear anything I was saying.   Some would look at me with puzzled faces, some would break off into conversation, and others would just find something else to do.   Throughout the presentation I would constantly try to raise my voice but I would never have any luck.   This caused me to think further into my future, would people not listen to me because I couldn’t speak loud enough?   Would they be able to respect me and take me seriously?   No one really listens to someone who has a soft voice.  

So much power is given to the force behind a voice.   It’s lets people know that your serious about what your saying, and they need to listen.   Have you ever heard of some one robbing a bank saying, ”Excuse me… but can you give me all your money” in a soft voice?    I don’t think anyone would take him seriously and a few people may even laugh at him, but If he came busting through the door yelling

“GIVE ME ALL YOUR MONEY!” then he would get more of the response he was looking for, he would be taken seriously.  

Knowing this, I also want the ability to put meaningful force not only behind what I say, but how I say.   I want people to take me seriously, and not to ask me to repeat myself several times before they can clearly hear me.   Projection is a skill, and a lot more then how you speak.   Since then, I have been working on my voice projection, making sure that everyone can hear what I have to say.   I’ve found a way to put power behind my voice and I wont give up until I have perfected the skill.

 

            

            “Yo. You def need to talk to him, like you obviously like him.” I said to Tsion on our usual morning trolley ride to school. We had met up at the 45^th street trolley stop, and it was time for our usual girl talk. Girl talk is when we each tell everything, no holding back.

“I don’t like him!” She tried to hide her awkward smile, but I saw through her lie. We were the loudest people on the usually quiet trolley. I never realize it until all eyes are on our conversation.

“Oh my gosh, you are such a liar. I hate you and your lies.” I said to her in a serious voice. I couldn’t help but laugh after I said it. She laughed back, but her laugh said it all. It was the “Amanda you so crazy laugh”.

Then she actually said it “You are so crazy, but I do a little. I just don’t want to anymore.” I laughed at her. I hear those words everyday “Amanda you are so crazy”. I completely agree with that statement, those words not only describe my speech, but also my actions. It’s strange, but I only hear these words from my friends.

 “How has your winter break been?” My Great Aunt Linda asked me when I was over her house for the traditional Christmas dinner.

“The break has been wonderful. So far, I have completed all my homework and my mother and I have watched a few movies.” I replied in a light, yet sweet voice. Then I smiled, and put on a complete “I-am-such-an-angle” act. My family always falls for it .I could also see something else in my aunt’s eyes when I talk; judgment.

 “Our family looks down on us because I am a single mom. They pity us and they don’t think I raised you right. That’s just our family, get used to it.” My mom stuck this idea in my head when I was young. I grew up trying to be better than my families perception of me .I couldn’t be relaxed around them. I had to be perfect, I had to show them that my life was completely normal and that I was intelligent.

According to James Baldwin “You have confessed your parents, your youth, your school, your salary, your self-esteem, and, alas, your future.” In simpler words the way a person speaks, the vocabulary they use and the accent they have, can tell all about a person. For instance, if a person always talks with words that aren’t in the dictionary and their grammar is completely wrong, then most likely this person didn’t go to one of the best schools and probably works a minimum wage job. This could also mean that their parents didn’t push them enough or that they have too low of self-esteem to really believe in them selves.

Since I believe this quote to be true, I am afraid to use slang or just say whatever is on my mind around my family. Using slang will prove what they already think is true, that I am not educated well and that I pretty much live in poverty. My family believes that because I never went to the most expensive private schools or had a father in my life to support me. My guard always has to be up around them, I can’t just let lose and be goofy. I have to be proper and always watch what I say.

I was always the youngest in the family. The only other girl in the family near my age was about six years older than me. I was out casted because of such an age difference. My cousins didn’t want to have a deep conversation with me; I was to young too talk about anything relevant to their lives like dating or high school. I knew from a young age they didn’t want me around. I could just tell by the stares that pierced me whenever I walked into the room.

“Hello” Glenda my oldest cousin asked while going in for an awkward hug. She didn’t say it as if she cared, it was just something to say to break the tension between us.

“Hello …”I go in for the unwanted hug and then pulled away quickly. She stared at me.

“How have you been?”  I said swiftly, I wasn’t used to these word. “What’s up?” is what I say to my friends, she wasn’t my friend. She was far from one.

“Great.” Anywhere but here, it was like she was thinking out loud. Glenda walked to the other side of the room as soon as her mom peered out of the kitchen. I didn’t know what to say, it was strange because I always have something to say. I always felt this way around my mom’s half of the family.

I couldn’t help but to notice that I wasn’t myself around people I wasn’t comfortable with. With my friends I felt like I could just be myself and talk anyway I pleased. I didn’t feel the same around my family .It could be the fear of not being accepted by them or just not knowing what to say in a conversation. Whatever the reason, I can’t help but to code switch. 

    “Haha. What did you just say?”

            “I meant: ‘I’ve already done that’”

            “No, no. That’s not what you said.”

            “Yeah, say what you said just now.”

            “Ok, fine.” I made air quotes with my fingers in an attempt to disassociate myself from the grave grammatical transgression I had just committed. “’I been done that.’”

            My two aunts and my cousin burst into laughter.

            “Hey Dad,” my Aunt Tasha yelled up the stairs, “Come down and hear this.”

            “Oh, Tash, don’t do that,” said my Aunt Ricky.

            My grandfather used to be a professional writer and from the moment I received my first “Great Job” on a precociously written complete sentence, he had taken an interest into my way with words.

            “What?” he shouted down the stairs.

            “Nothing, Pop.” My cousin Sydney had just turned 19, and was supposed to be at her college studying for midterms.

            “I’m gonna go see what Nick’s doing.” I started outside to cool off my burning ears in the winter wind.

            “Don’t you mean ‘Imma go trahta chill wit ma cuz’?” Sydney called. I sulked out of the house.

            “We’re just kidding, Abe,” called my aunt as I left.

             The language of the New Jersey natives is all about outsmarting whomever you are speaking with. When you’ve engaged in conversation with someone, you are expected to call them on every “whole ‘nother” and correct every inconsistency. Most importantly of all, you must make full use of your most powerful tool: sarcasm.

            My family is used to speaking a certain way, a way that would be considered by many to be “normal, proper English”. Often, our conversations will be punctuated with interruption because someone misused a pronoun. To them, English is a form of power, and those with more knowledge of how it's used can place themselves in a position higher than everyone else in the room.

            My bimonthly visits to New Jersey have given me a decent idea of how they talk, but I have much more experience with the slang that many of my friends from Olney, North Philadelphia use.

            The North Philly dialect is about convenience. We’ve developed a manner of speaking that allows us to convey whatever point we wish as quickly as possible. Whether this is through shortened, slurred words or with the unique slang we’ve developed. This dialect is generally associated with the uneducated and those of a lower class.

            The area of New Jersey where most of my family lives is a stereotypical suburb. The houses are painted white, everything’s within walking distance, and the perfect green lawns are broken only by bright red brick paths. Olney, however is a completely different story. Not worse (that would depend on your own definitions), but different. Since the first time my cousins visited, I have felt that they look down on Olney. I believe this is largely due to the difference in English dialect. My family is accustomed to using English as more of a weapon than a communication tool, and when they visit, their natural reaction to a dialect that sounds uneducated is a desperate grasp for power. They put down our way of speaking, because they want to control their weapon.

In the words of James Baldwin, “People evolve a language in order to describe and thus control their circumstances, or in order not to be submerged by a reality they cannot articulate.” The reality by which my family fears to be submerged is that those who sound “uneducated” may be more intelligent than them. It could ruin the “perfect English” that they’ve worked tirelessly for centuries to attain.

Whenever I visit New Jersey, I find myself speaking differently. This is not noticeable to anyone but me, save a few slip-ups, and is not so much out of embarrassment, just an automatic adjustment to the attitudes and tone of our family gatherings. I’ve developed two dialects of the same language, and I am proud of each, but only when I use them in the right setting.

This isn’t uncomfortable, and I’ve found I can seamlessly switch between the two. I can be the highly intelligent wordsmith that my relatives know, or the mumbling “white boy in the ghetto” that my friends see every day.

Unfortunately, my relatives do visit every once in a while, and the two dialects clash.

Again, this is completely internal.

In fact, the time that my relatives visit is when I can most clearly see the other side of this verbal war. I’ve discovered that my friends, who I’ve long thought to be victims of an exclusive language, have their own language problem that they fight daily to keep away. They come from a world where improper language is used by the oldest, wisest and most respected people in the neighborhood. The notion that another world exists, one that they could be expected to speak properly in, is a terrifying prospect. This is all too real for the people of Philadelphia’s poorer neighborhoods. It is no secret that those who speak “proper” are held higher in society than those who don’t, and this is an idea that crushes the spirit of the people of my neighborhood. Subpar education, and a broken (yet ingenious) form of speech, in a world run by those with proper grammar, is a reality in which the people of Olney struggle to stay afloat.

I consider myself privileged to be able to see both sides of this spectrum, and I try to keep up my allegiance to both sides. However, I also feel that I’m trapped in a world where language is no longer a way to enhance human interaction, and I must always be on guard.

One false move, and I could be annihilated by the weapon of the English language.