Language Autobiography 2013: Double Sided
“I understand what you’re trying to say but...” The most common words in my family. We always start the same, ten o’clock, the t.v. turned off and we’re all ready to go upstairs and slide into our beds. Then someone remembers one last story, one last thing that happened that day. They begin their story and out of courtesy we all stay to listen.
“So, today in class we were talking about women in advertisements.” Today is my turn, I begin but my family only listens with uninterested faces. Yet I know they care, “It said that owning an image of a nude woman is the same as a desire to own the portrayed woman.” They’re listening now so much so that it’s their turn to talk.
“That’s ridiculous,” My mom starts angrily but with a smile on her face, “I mean if that’s true then we own a lot of women.”
“Yeah I know, so I spoke up afterwards when we were talking about it saying that I disagreed and Block responded, ‘So you think putting porn on your wall is different than a nude portrait, interesting.’” I know I’ve lost my story now because they’ve all started talking, saying more or less the same thing.
“He actually said that?” My sister questions, rolling her eyes, “Well that escalated quickly.” This is how it starts, this is how it always starts. And then we get further into the ideas and principles behind the event and we each take our own stance.
“I’ve never understood the fascination with Barbie though,” I start a new side of the argument, “I mean I understand what you’re saying but there are a lot of people who take that too far, I mean you guys let me play with Barbies and I didn’t ever want to be like them, nor do I know anyone who did.”
“That’s true,” my dad starts, ready to counter but my mom cuts him off quickly, “But that doesn’t mean there aren’t girls who do.” We could go back and forth forever.
This is how it always was and I hope will always be in my family. My parents have never told me my opinion is wrong but they often attempt to convince me of their opinion. However because of the argumentative strategies they’ve taught me, I rarely back down, in fact I oppose them as well. Language for me has always been able to give me the ability to oppose and to stand up.
Language can give you the power to convince others you’re right. To explain to them what it means to be you, and what it is you believe. I have always been in an environment that allows me to express what I’m actually feeling. This isn’t to say that there aren’t times or moments when I am not interrupted or yelled at. I just always have someone I can go to to explain what it is that I meant or what I was going to say.
The front door opens as I sit on the couch. I can see who is there, just that there’s someone. “Spies!” I scream towards the shape coming through the front door that I hope is my sister.
“Dinkleberg!” She calls back, confirming it’s her.
“Maybe you should sell me and buy a rabbit instead!” I scream again, sprawled on the couch.
“At least a rabbit would be better than you!” My sister walks into the room calmly.
“I bet it’d be smarter than me too!”
“And quieter!”
“You’d like it cause it’d be stinky like you!”
“Go to your room!”
“I’m already in my room!” I laugh as we finish the scene so often recited by our tongues, the scene from Lilo & Stitch.
This other side of language, the side of love and happiness. The way that my sister and I can speak to each other and know how we’re feeling just by the quotes we say or the songs we sing. We’ve always worked as a unit, knowing where to be and what to say because of all the things we’ve said in the past. However each time is different. Each word can take on so many different forms, creating endless options. Language has connected us in a way nothing and no one else has. Similar to Gloria Anzaldúa in How to Tame a Wild Tongue, “My ‘home’ tongues are the languages I speak with my sister and brothers, with my friends.” This is how I feel when I speak with my sister, I feel at home.
Because of this I am a rare one. I am different. Others do not have to freedom and support that I do when it comes to language. They are restricted and kept in by it. They often do not get the chances that I get to speak out. I do not know what this feels like. I do not know the thoughts that you might think. However, I know how good it feels to have this freedom, and I respect it. I know I am lucky.
Language can transform from something all about power and the ability to stand up for yourself to being able to connect with someone. I have been lucky enough to learn both sides of that in the same household. I have grown up appreciating every word and syllable I and others use and know. I have grown up with the idea that you must be careful with what you say but you must also be willing to take a break, to go “without a filter” as my mother says. You have to know when to say what you want, what makes you comfortable, and when you must say what you mean.
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