"Maybe you should shut the hell up before I kick you!"

"And who is going to do it, your mommy?"

"No, I will personally do it!"

"I hate you so much, I will ***"...

            Arguing with Ilia, and cursing pretty badly at each other, I did not notice my mom walking towards me on the street. She was shocked. I always was a very polite person at home, never cursed, and practically was a different person then she saw just now. Unfortunately for myself, I used to lie about the fact that I never curse, but after seeing that, she understood that it all.

"Sergey Kuznetsov, I can't believe what I am hearing!"

"Am... mom? What are you doing here, I thought that you weren't going to the store today, how much did you hear?"

"I have heard enough, you both are in so much trouble! You yourself are grounded, and Ilia's mother is going to hear about this as well!"

"Mom, please, we didn't mean what we said, it was just a joke!"

"Maybe you should have thought of it before, lets go!"

She didn't even want to talk to me after it. Even up until now, I am trying to understand why I used to change the way I talked with people so drastically, but no matter how I approach the problem, I can't. Changing the way I speak still helps me drastically, but while I am growing older, I start changing a lot less, and acting more similarly everywhere.

It is very possible that one of the reasons that I have spoke that way, was because I accidentally entered the reverse speech stage. It sometimes happens to me, when I go to extremes with my feelings, and at that moment I have really been disappointed about what happened. As was said by By Kathy J. Jeffries "the Reverse Speech of a person indicates their subconscious or unconscious thoughts. The Reverse Speech of a person indicates truthful responses or thoughts. The subconscious cannot lie. These thoughts can be on a conscious level, contradicting or confirming the forward speech. This would be the first level of Reverse Speech. The second level of Reverse Speech reveal a persons personality make-up, emotions and thoughts that are not on a conscious level. These reversals use metaphors to communicate the messages from our unconscious mind. The third level of Reverse Speech indicates emotions and feelings from within our deep self. Third level reversals use archetypes as well as metaphors to describe ones' innermost beliefs. As third level reversals come from the very core of ones' being, they are very powerful in their meaning." When I spoke to my friend, I have been only in only in first level of reverse speech. If my mom hadn't stopped me however, I might have even entered the 2'd or 3'd stage, which would probably cause a break of our friendship to occur. The hard thing is to know when to stop, when you enter the first stage. Anyone can enter those stages, but the ones that may actually hurt from them are politicians. If they accidentally say something to the press that they should not hear, then their life would be destroyed.

            Code switching also is a very big issue, especially when people are starting to learn a new language. (Author unknown, Power of code switching) "Professionals studying code-switching continue to debate about the advantages and disadvantages of code-switching for second language learners. Some arguments against code-switching say it is not a true language; one is not fluent enough in either language if code-switching is necessary; or, code-switching is not academically appropriate. On the other hand, there seem to be more arguments in support of code-switching." This person states that there are two sides of the coin in code switching. If both are taken in consideration, it is neither  good nor bad. It makes people harder to understand, but at the same time, if a very literate person is trying to say a metaphor in English, but only knows how to say it in his native language, he or she should be able to say it in English, and if they get a bad reaction, then they may explain what they have mean.

"Serge, are we not late?"

"No, it's only 4 PM, we still have 3 hours."

"How did you know, did you look at the clock when I didn't notice?"

"No, my organism works like clocks!"

"What do you mean?"

"Well it means that I can feel what time it is, and approximate, apparently this time I was correct."

"Hm, If you say so."

January 4, 2011

English

Silver Stream

Self Confidence

“What’s your name?” she says.

“Arlana Brown I am here for an interview. I am supposed to meet with Mr. Jackson,” I state.

“Have a seat Mr. Jackson will be with you in a while. While you wait can I ask a question?” she says.

“Yes you may” I reply.

“What school do you go to? Most youth come in here with their pants down, cussing, and just everything we don’t need here?” she stammers.

“Thank you I take that as a compliment and I go to Science Leadership Academy on 22^nd and Arch Streets” I reply.

“Oh that really good school that just opened. I heard about them before my niece is supposed to go there. Well thanks for answering my question and nice talking to you. Actually Mr. Jackson is waiting for you. Sorry to keep you waiting. And by the way, off the record I think you will get the job. Good luck!” she says happily.

“Thanks Miss.”, I say confused.

“Mrs. Williams”, she replies.

“Thanks Mrs. Williams you have a good day” I reply.

I go and take a seat and remember what she says. It brightened up my day with the compliment she gave me. Most people say I am hyper and that I usually mispronounce my words. I guess I talk differently around my friends and then when it is business. It’s a time and a place for everything. It was my time to go in for the job and of course I am looking fresh. I have fresh dress clothes on and now time to switch to business mode. I leave street talk behind when I walk through his door. This is the start to my whole life.

We start the interview. He came to a decision I was still in school and the job was far to travel to everyday. He said it wasn’t that I wasn’t capable and wasn’t qualified, it was that the time of my school and the job would interfere. He told me to come see him when I turn 18 and he would have a position ready for me. Walking away that day didn’t make me see that things went bad for me, it actually went good. I was happy that he told me that because I knew for myself that I was capable of talking to people in higher places than they and I thought I was highly educated for my age. I went back to Mrs. Williams and explained what happened and she exclaimed with “What! If I was in there I would hire you, I would pick you up everyday so you could have this job. Well he is obviously blind to not hire you. But one day he will remember and will be very upset to see you on Oprah. You’re a talented and intelligent young women and I wish you the best”.

I was so shocked she said this that I flew over and gave her a hug and told her “thank you”. In How To Tame A Wild Tongue, Glona Anzaldía writes, “Ethnic identity is twin to linguistic identity-I am my language”. Your language is the same as your skin, as is your personality. Your language represents you. She also writes that, “Until I can take pride in my language, I cannot take pride in myself”. I have had experiences when people would tell me “you say this wrong” and I would get mad and feel I hate the way I talk, until one day. I had to learn that no matter what you speak or how you speak, you are who you are. Nothing can change that not even your language. From that day I had the self-determination that I could do anything no matter what! I learned people that knew me for 5 minutes gave me more credit then people who knew me for a lifetime. Just the way you look can determine the language you speak. It’s your choice to live by the stereotype.

Morgan Marant

Gold Stream

A SEPTA Mentality

            There is a natural code of conduct while riding a SEPTA bus. That is: you’re in public, treat this bus better then you would yourself. SEPTA even took the time to put these rules on every bus in Philadelphia. Apparently, the woman next t me had never taken the time to read the rules or to even consider that she’s not on the bus alone. She talked animatedly into her phone and loudly popped her gum; unaware that everyone on the bus could hear her conversation.

“I don’t unda-stand ‘POP’ why I didn’t get the job! ‘POP’ I mean, I’m qualified and sh*t ya know what I’m sayin! ‘POP’ they just aint hire me cuz I’m back.”

My first impulse was to slap the phone out of her hand. The reason you didn’t get the job is because of the way you speak not because of your ethnicity, I thought. She probably doesn’t know any better. What a shame.

James Baldwin the author of several books writes “To open your mouth…  is to ‘put your business in the street.’ You have confessed your parents, your youth, your shoo, your self-esteem and alas your future.”  He is undoubtedly correct. The way a person speaks not only conveys their language it can exhibit how they were raised.  Language and speech can dictate who a person becomes as an adult.

My mother and father both pushed me to speak properly. My mother- a lawyer- and my father –a school teacher- taught me to use correct grammar at some of the earliest stages in my life.  There were many times in my life where I went to conventions and legal functions with my mother. Several times I was complimented on how well spoken I was at such a young age. When I attended middle school the way I spoke began to give me a problem. My peers would often tell me that I didn’t speak like the stereotypical black girl was supposed to therefore that made me not black but an Oreo; white on the inside and black on the outside. My speech displayed that I was and still am destined to be successful. It appears that the way a ‘black girl’ speaks does not reveal those ideas or characteristics.  

After those incidents I began taking out my anger on people who resembled the ones that made fun of me; most of them were of my own ethnicity. I looked down on them. Why couldn’t they speak proper English like the rest of the world? Why were so many of them loud and angry? Why couldn’t they be like everyone else? Then I came to an understanding that I knew nothing of every individual, black person in the United States. I was judging them solely, on how they spoke. Their language defined the identity that society had already created for them and I went along with it and even believed it.

A language does show a lot about a person’s identity. A language can even determine people’s initial reaction upon first meeting them but a language cannot determine where a person ends up. If and only if they allow the identity that society has placed upon them to hinder them then they have allowed themselves to become a product of their language and environment.

            Even though I am older and wiser I still cringe when I hear a person speak like the woman on the SEPTA bus. A small part of me retreats back into my old personality and says, “Here’s another black person setting us back five years.” As I pull myself out of that mindset I know that it is just a language. A language that only defies how the person speaks and not who they are. A number of comparisons can be made between ethnicity, language and class but the truth is the way a person speaks does not create their identity.  It creates the identity that society has designated for them. 

Gold Stream

“The Sound of White” 

“Why ya talk like that?”

“Like what?” I replied.

 “Like that.”

“I don’t know what you’re trying to say.” I exclaimed.

“Ya talk … like a white person.”

“Oh… ok,” I stammered.

How should I reply to someone calling me a “white person”? Am I supposed to recognize different types of speech at ten years old? I’ve constantly been told that I speak differently, but I didn’t really notice it. I felt that I spoke the same way everyone else did. Well, that was in fourth grade, but throughout elementary school, I wasn’t able to tell the difference. I mean, there were a few kids in the class that occasionally used “slang”, but I didn’t think it was different than how the rest of the kids spoke.

I went to a K-8 school, so the same people that called me “white” in elementary school were the same people that called me “white” in middle school. In middle school, I was jokingly called “white girl”, but I didn’t really mind it anymore. It had been going on for so long that I just ignored it, and would answer them anyway. It didn’t really offend me. I had no idea as to what their intention were for calling me that, but it was never said in a harmful way so I had no reason to get angry about the name.

            It wasn’t until the summer before seventh grade that I actually questioned how exactly a “white person” spoke. Of all the year’s I was called “white”, I never really questioned the reason for them calling me that.

“Why ya talk like a white person?”

“How does a white person talk?” I questioned.

“They talk all proper and stuff.”

Honestly, I was still a little confused. I didn’t feel that speaking proper was exclusively for one group of people. I’m an African – American, but people don’t think that. Everyone speaks a common language, but people aren’t all the same, so there are different ways that they sound.

            A few weeks ago, I was on ichat with a friend.  We weren’t really talking about much, but my responses to her made her question me.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing much. What are you doing?” I replied

“Why you typing all proper?”

I didn’t really know how to answer that. It’s no different than someone asking me why I spoke like a “white girl”. I don’t have an explanation for why I speak the way I do, except that I was raised this way. Yes, sometimes I might catch on to what other people are saying, but the way I speak will stay the same.  This is who I am, and there is no one, and nothing that will ever be able to change that about me.

According to James Baldwin, “language incontestably reveals the speaker”. He feels that a person’s speech reveals their identity, and defines them as such. This is why many people are judged. Some people believe that your race determines the way you speak. There are many connections that people draw to conclude the race of someone. For example, African – American’s are stereotypically loud, obnoxious, and speak using slang. But, not all African – American’s fit into that stereotype. I’m one of those people. I am a little shy, and am soft-spoken.

From these experiences, I’ve learned something. You can’t judge someone because of the way they speak. There are many qualities of people that are different than others. People sound, act, and look different than each other. You just have to accept that. Your speech may somewhat reveal who you are, but you have to move past that and view them as a human being.

NaQuan Harding

1/5/11

Gold English

Comedy: A Double-edged Sword

There I am, sitting in a cramped room with the school’s principle. It’s my interview before I’m actually accepted into the middle school. My attitude could make or break my chances of getting in. I have to maintain an acceptable attitude and stay calm. Here goes.

“So, NaQuan, what makes you want to come to this school?” asks the teacher.

“Oh, you know…I was thinking about it,” I joked. “I mean, I like the idea of fun staff, friendly students, no uniform code, and a half-day each week, but what really had me hooked were the school vests. Those things look awesome!”

She chuckles.

“Funny. You’re quite the goofball, aren’t you?”

“I try.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll be right at home. Now you know you’ll have to work hard, right?”

“Bring in all the work you want. It can’t be much compared to the chores my mom makes me do.”

Et cetera, et cetera, insert funny comment here. That’s usually how my conversations go.  It’s like what James Baldwin once wrote, “Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker” He couldn’t be more right. The way you speak can say a lot about the kind of person you are, sometimes more so than your actions can. I’ve always been aware of this fact, and made sure I never rubbed anyone the wrong way. How? By always being the funny guy. The comic. The class clown. The goofball. If it involves comedy, that’s the kind of person I’ll be. Nothing says friendship like making jokes about it.

            If anything, I’m always trying to keep a funny attitude, preferably a sarcastic one, but not so much that I look like a jerk. Humor has always been my thing. It makes people laugh and keeps them on their good side. Whenever I first meet someone, I always try to come off as the funny guy. It’s an excellent way to break the ice, raises my chances of making early friends, and leaves a good first impression. It’s my specialty. Once I make someone even giggle, I know I’ve left my mark. It’s funny because I don’t make up my own jokes, but feed off of the situation to make my jokes. It works because it’s unexpected, but still related, and of course, funny. But not everything goes according to plan. There are times and places for jokes, and times and places to be serious. Churches, funerals, boot camps, these are places where jokes aren’t welcome, and they warn you that. But of course, I took these warnings about as seriously as I do 2012, and joked away. And let me tell you, when the consequences hit, they hit hard.

Luckily, I’ve never been to boot camp, and out of the two times I went to church, I don’t recall making any jokes, mostly because I was sleeping. But I won’t deny; there have been times when I was in the red on the jerk spectrum. On several occasions, I made the mistake of getting personal with my jokes, usually bringing family into my jokes. In other words, my jokes came off as insults. That doesn’t make someone like you, that makes them hate you, and when they hate you, they don’t laugh. That’s a big no-no when you’re trying to be funny.  I sometimes feel like I have no control of my sarcasm sometimes, and it pops up at the most inconvenient times. Like, for example, at a funeral.

The sister of a really good friend of mine died and I went to the funeral with him. Now, he was very familiar with my comedic nature, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt if I tried to cheer him up a little bit. I said, “At least she can’t annoy you anymore.” Again, I made a joke about family, and at the worst possible time to boot. Needless to say, that was a stupid thing to do. Very stupid. Extremely stupid. Obviously, he took that in a way I didn’t want him to, and that left a heavy blow in our friendship and left a bad mark. I looked like a cold, heartless jerk. It took months of me apologizing, begging, and even doing his work for him before he could even talk to me again, and even more groveling after that to restore the friendship.  That taught me the lesson of choosing the proper time and proper place to joke around.

I’m not a bad person, and I’m not a boring person. Being funny helps dispel those thoughts when I meet people. It’s always worked for me in the past, and will keep working in the future. Like I said, it’s my specialty. I don’t think I could be anything else. I’m not anyone else. I’m not the cool guy. Not the mysterious guy. Definitely not the tough guy. I’m just the funny guy, and that’s the way I like it.  

Adjusting to a brand new environment is not always easy. A wide array of unfamiliar faces, languages and cultures can really have its toll on your self-expression and how you react to the new people around you. When I first moved to America and started the seventh grade at my new school, I did not talk to anybody. I could tell that I did not fit in, so I tried desperately to stay by myself. I was completely surprised when a kid walked up to me during lunch on my third day of school and began speaking to me in Jamaica Creole, but I was even more surprised when I responded in Creole too.

         “Kuyaman, awara Shamarlon?” said Stephen politely.

--Hey Shamarlon, what’s up?

         “Nutten nah gwaan, a nyam mi a nyam lunch.” I responded, looking up

           from my table.

         --Nothing is going on, I am just eating lunch.

“Suh, yuh gudehe? I hav bwein nuticing yuh ina klashe ahn yuh sheem suh kiete? Ah why yuh suh shiete and tensiete? ” replied Steven, in a fluent Creole accent. He stared into my eyes as if he was reading my mind.

--So, are you okay? I have been noticing you in class and you are so quiet! Why are you so shy and tense?

“Bway, ebethinete es jus nwew tuh mi bekahese mi jus movitete fah Jamaica. Mi jus nuh fit een!” I answered. I was gaining more confidence with each question I answered.

           --Well, everything is just new to me because I just moved from Jamaica. I  

              just don’t fit in!

“Haha…Bway mi diiete pheel de samiete way pheie mi de movitete fah Jamaica tuh wen mi dida jus six. Eniyone woulda pheel dat way ef dey lefiete deh jome dey phewn alla dey liphe. Jus khone dat yuh a mi fren.” he replied in a friendly voice as he turned and walked away.

--Haha…well, I felt the same way because I moved from Jamaica too when I was only six years old. Anyone would feel that way if they leave the place where they had grown up all their life. Just know that I am your friend!

 Over the course of the next few weeks, Steven and I developed an unbreakable and sacred friendship that was centered around our similar language. We did everything together, from sitting at the same table at lunch to going to the movies on Saturdays. Throughout the course of our friendship and by speaking to him in Creole, my personality had begun to change. I was not the same shy insecure boy who was afraid to talk to people and to be apart of the society that existed outside of my home. I was not the same boy who only left my house when I had to go to school and who didn’t socialize with anyone except for my family. I had always blamed my language for my complete withdrawal from society because English was the dominant language in this new country and I did not relate to it. I soon came to realize that Creole also liberated me from the same secluded pit that it had created. Creole was the reason why Steven and I developed such a wonderful friendship and through this friendship, I gained a better understanding of society and my language. From this experience, I developed the courage to speak Creole in public without looking over my shoulders to see if someone is ridiculing me. Fast-forward three years and now I am teaching my friends how to say different phrases in Creole. My friendship with Steven has changed my life by making me embrace my language and not being ashamed of it. Due to the fact that Steven also moved to America from Jamaica, and went through the same situation that I was in, he gained a lot of experience on how to not seclude himself from society because of his language.

In the words of James Baldwin, “…[Language] reveals the private identity and connects one, with or divorces one from, the larger, public or communal identity.” Language can either bring people together or set them apart from the larger identity that is widely accepted by the speakers of this language.  Language can also determine how you associate yourself with a person and also a larger group within society. Through this, it also helps you to understand your true identity and develop your own unique perception of your language. In my story, I had difficulty associating myself with other people at school, in my community and wherever I went. I only connected with people who spoke Creole, including my family and Steven. It came down to the point that my language controlled my life by alienating me from the rest of society, but at the same time, it connected me with a specific group of people. As time progressed and with the mentoring from Steven, I was able to develop a better understanding of my personal identity and Creole. I realized that my language made me unique and that I should embrace and not disgrace it. From understanding my personal identity, I was then able to connect with other larger groups in society, something that I had never done before. I began to socialize with my peers, teachers and anyone that who I came in contact with.

“Patios es apaat a yuh identity, yuh jus hafi akcep ite. Yuh language fi mek yuh hapi!” was an inspirational phrase that Stephen often told me to live by every day and that it will always bring guidance and support.

--Creole is apart of your identity and you just have to accept it. Your language should make you happy!

I often told Steven that he was Dr. Phil’s little prodigy because he is such a smart person who can solve anybody’s problem and make them happier. I am surely a testament to that.

“Hablas Español bien. ¿Eres una mastra?”

“No, viví en El Salvador.”

            I look back and forth from the waiter to my mom not understanding what they were saying. Almost every time we went to a restaurant and the waiter spoke Spanish she would have a conversation with them. All the adults sitting at the table looked like they understood every word as the kids waited for the conversation to end so they could be told what was said. When I heard my mom say El Salvador I knew right away that she was explaining how she knows Spanish so well.

            Spanish has always been apart of my mom’s life. The first twelve years of her life she lived in El Salvador because her father, who was a missionary, became the principal of a school there to help it get back on its feet. Her parents made sure she and her brother were immersed into the culture. One of the ways they did this was send them to an all Spanish school. When they came back to the states she was still connected to El Salvador especially because she never lost the language.

            Remembering the language has helped her in many ways. One way it helped her is that when she has gone back to El Salvador or when she went to other Spanish speaking countries she was still able to speak Spanish. This was important because none of the people she visited could not speak English. Language helped my mom connect to her country because without it she would not be able to communicate with people Spanish countries. One way it has helped her is a woman she knows talks in Spanish when she is angry. Most people have to have her repeat what she says in English so they can help her. My mom is able to both understand her and talk to her in Spanish so it is easier for my mom to help her. Being able to communicate is a very important skill. Knowing more then one language helps with communication in a diverse area and helps connect someone to more of the people in that area.

            According to Glona Anzaldúa, “Ethnic identity is twin skin to linguistic identity.” She is saying that what language someone speaks and how they speak it ties in directly to their history, and the history of their of their family. I find this true for my mom because even though my mom has not lived in El Salvador for her entire life she is still ethnically tied to the place. This because she could still connect to El Salvador because when she visited she did not have to stay in the touristy area because she could speak the language.

            Spanish has also been in my life. I cannot speak Spanish beyond what I have learned in school. Still the sound of it has always been familiar because I have heard it all of my life.  

            One of the ways I was introduced to Spanish is that Mama Alba, my first babysitter, spoke only Spanish. My mom though that this would make me learn Spanish at a young age. Unfortunately I spent most of my time with her foster kids who spoke both Spanish and English.  I was also stubborn so once I learn how to say something in English I did not want to relearn it in Spanish.

            My mom wanted me to get at least a little of the experience of her childhood. So my family traveled to El Salvador when I was almost three, Costa Rica when I was five, and Guatemala and Honduras when I was ten. It was not until I was ten that I wanted to do more then just go to different countries; I now also wanted to understand what they said. Unfortunately, since I was older I was never able to learn. I had fun on these trips, but the trip would have been better if I knew Spanish because I could connect to the people there more. 

             Overall, I have learned how much language helps connect people to other countries. Being able to speak with out limitations because of little knowledge helps both parties communicate and u677feel connected. If someone is unable to connect through language then they will never feel apart of that country. The learned language must not be lost for if it is lost then that person can no longer feel like that country is apart of them because what connected them to the country is lost and can not be easily obtained.  

The Voice We are Given

I walked into the office with nerves jumping around in my stomach like kids in a bounce house.

“ Are you here to start the scrabble club? Symone right?” He asked.

“ Yes.”  I said.

He walked into the principal’s office assuming that I would follow. The principal met us there and introduced herself. We sat at the table and they began to ask me different questions, the usual questions.

“What school are you from?” the principal asked

“ I am a student at Science Leadership Academy.” I replied

“Oh ok. What grade?”

“ I am a sophomore.”

“ So how are you going to run the club? Do you have supplies or do we have to provide them?”

“ Well, I have to attend an orientation next week. There I will be given all of the details as to how exactly I am to run the club and activities that the kids can do. As for the supplies the company that I am working with will provide them.”

“ Okay, well it seems like there is nothing further we can do until you go to the orientation. So here how about you take my card and you can email me with details, questions, etc.”

 My building contact Mr. Jengo finally chimed in, “Did Avi give you my information?”

I had to think about it for a moment. What did he mean by information? All I had was his email address, nothing more.

“Um, no” I said thinking that he was going to give me something other than his email. He wrote just his email on the back of the card. I felt extremely bad, I felt like I had lied to this guy because I already had his email.

 I left the building and headed for the car. That’s when I began to think, I should have said this and I slightly began to panic because I didn’t know the answers to the questions that they had. They probably thought I was just some high school student that did this because they had to, not because they cared. Plus I probably slurred my words again, I hopped that spit hadn’t flew out of my mouth. Who knows what they were saying about me after I left. I often have these kinds of after thoughts whenever I’m talking to someone important or to a group of people. One thing said wrong could make me sound unintelligent.

In her story about a young girl Maxine Hong Kingston wrote “It was when I found out I had to talk that school became a misery.” The little girl in this story felt different because of the way she spoke. She found it stressful to speak in front of the class. This little girl just wanted to be accepted by her peers rather than be teased by them for the way she spoke, so she didn’t talk at all. I find myself feeling the same way in class or even on important interviews. If I don’t have to talk then I don’t because I’m afraid to say something stupid or that doesn’t make sense. I know people are going to talk about it later either way.  I want to give the best impression I possibly can. But lately I have realized that the impression I have been giving is not the real me, because being quiet just isn’t me. I am a loud but intelligent person and that I need to embrace that while I’m with my friends, in class, or even during interviews.  I should not strive to be something more proper than what I am, using big words and trying to sound more sophisticated. I have been striving to express my ideas in class discussions in a way that sounds profound, to make my voice heard rather than letting it fall to the wayside.  But something that needs to be pounded in my mind is that I don’t have to try so hard to be profound because my way of expressing my thoughts may already seem profound to others and if not that is okay to. I just have to believe in myself and stop worrying about what others think. The interesting thing is there are a lot of people that act the same way, maybe not the same situation I’m in but similar. They act and speak in a way that is not them just to receive the approval of others. A prime example is when kids start at a new school. They want to be accepted by their peers so they start to talk differently and even dress differently.  The truth is you should want people to accept you for who you are not for some front that you put on to impress them.  This is where language and identity fall into play. The way you speak is not necessarily who you really are, your true identity. Rather it could be what you are hiding behind. Even if you’re different and speak differently as long as you are being the real you it is a good thing. 

“Ok kids, this is Tucker Bartholomew. He just moved here from Virginia, and he’ll be joining us next week. Turn around now.”

            I stood in the back of the classroom with my dad and little sister. I stood there rather awkwardly for a seven year old, not really knowing if I should wave, or if I should say something. The teacher, Ms. Gandy, told me to come up to the front. I walked up to the front while my dad and sister waited in the back. I realized that if I didn’t say anything now, it would be considered impolite.

            “Hey ya’ll,” I said. This resulted in fits of giggles that only six and seven year olds can do and get away with. I was a little confused, wondering if my attire was inappropriate seeing as this was a uniformed school. It wasn’t like I was starting school today though so I didn’t get too embarrassed.  

            “Tucker and his family just moved into their apartment up on the west side. Who else here lives on the west side?” Three of the twelve students raised their hands. Zach Whitford, whom I had already met the day before, was one of them. He seemed like a nice kid. He talked pretty fast, however.

            “Ah think Ah met a few already.” More giggles.

            “Now class, what are you laughing at?” asked the teacher. An unusually petite girl named Gabriella Rovalino, answered before anyone one else could.

            “He talks funny.” This brought a repeat of the hearty laughs. This took me aback. I had never thought about the way I talked. Everybody talked like I talked, at least in Virginia. In the next few weeks I discovered that I did in fact speak differently than these New Yorkers. I realized that there is such a thing as accents.

I had always known my grandparents had southern accents. When my grandparents visited us, even in Virginia, sometimes people could not understand them. I became a translator. In the north, no one could understand them. After that, I started noticing more differences. People aren’t friendly; they don’t look at you in the subway, and they especially don’t want you to talk to them for whatever reason.

            I realized at that young age that language could affect opinions. Southerners talk more slowly, like molasses rolling off the tongue in words. People in New York always talked like they had something better to do at that moment. This, of course, is not necessarily true all the time. It’s a stereotype that I established. Stereotypes and their underlying assumptions divide the north and the south. James Baldwin once wrote, “Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker.” This is true in many different settings. People hear the way southerners speak, or they hear the way northerners speak, and they form opinions based on speech whether or not they are true. My future first grade classmates and possibly even my teacher labeled me as “slow” or naïve from my first “hey y’all.”

            I never really knew how to respond. I was too shy to really defend myself, so I ended up not talking as much as I usually did. This is when I first began to realize that the way you speak matters. My ideas of speech have matured over the years to the point where I understand better why it matters. I now understand why my grandparents often feel uncomfortable visiting in city areas. No one likes to be laughed at.

            I’ve never felt largely uncomfortable in a situation where I spoke differently until I went to my Uncle Nub’s funeral in 7^th grade. I had been living in Philly for several years. His name was not actually Nub. It was Curtis. Everyone called him Nub because, as a teenager, he laid his hand on the chopping block and dared his older brother to chop off his finger while the brother was chopping wood. His brother accepted the dare, resulting in the missing end of Uncle Curtis's middle finger. Incidentally, that brother is the one who gave him the nickname, Nub. 

Uncle Curtis was a man of stories and colorful language, so naturally he had many friends. As we were waiting in line for Barbeque before the service, my granddaddy was in line in front of us.  I had not seen him in years so I didn’t really know him or his second wife Helen. The topic of northerners came up when I said something very Philadelphian, and Helen said, “Don’t you ever become a Yankee. Don’t ever become one of them. You remember where you were born.”

            Although the next comment was a discreet comment from my older sister saying, “But also remember where you're being raised Tucker. And that’s the north!”

            This sent me into a whirlpool questions and concerns on how I would define myself. Am I from the south, or am I from the north? Do I adapt my speech to the people around me or do I simply decide not to care what others think? If I were asked where I am now from based on how I speak, I would say the north. I speak like I go to a high school in the north, which I do. I’m glad, however, that I have already gone through this sense of questioning where I’m from. I’m a bit wiser because of the questions that I have wrestled with and the answers I have developed. Realizing at a young age that language does creates opinions forced me to consider who I was and who I wanted to be.

By: Kam Huds

When you look at me in contrast to my parents it’s interesting because you don’t always see a parent and child relationship. Why? Well the main reason would be how we talk to each other. Sitting down stairs in my living room I’ll have conversations with my mom about men, love, sex, and random other things depending on what’s on her mind.

 “You know, marriage is a beautiful thing. Two people come together and are in love.  But you know… love doesn’t last forever. The flame doesn’t burn endless. The fire dies if it’s not fed and kept up by both partners.” I remember my mom telling me that one time. “Well that shouldn’t be hard if they both love each other, right? Then they both should be willing to keep the fire strong.”

            She laughs a little to herself. “You’d think that… But the thing about it is, when the flame gets weak, the relationship strains and sometimes one or both people will lose hope in the relationship. They lose the will to keep trying. Then gradually the relationship shrivels up. The flame dies… People can fall out of love.”

With my dad, we cover all the other things like sports, life, religion, racism, society, how people think. With my dad, I’ve shared some of the most interesting conversations ever. The information I get out of them is precious to me but the thing I love about it the most, the thing I love about talking to both my parents, is that most of the time we speak as equals. We’re not child and parent, we’re two intellectuals having a deep educated conversation.

I guess that after living with them for so long, living with this attitude, I’ve grown to think that all adults should be able to talk to me like this. I learned the hard way otherwise though.

My little sister’s godmother and I would be a good example. Large, loud, opinionated type. She’s very argumentive but more to me than many others. We’ve been in many situations where I’ve challenged her intelligence by saying something that she didn’t understand. Then she’d usually get upset and say something demeaning towards or at me. For a couple years now we’ve been in situations where I hear, or see something, comment on it, and then she challenges me as is me having an opinion is a capitol crime. One time I remember I was talking to my mom about what I would wear if I ever went to prom.

“, And we’ll get you a nice dress to wear for your prom” my mom ended her sentence. “I don’t even know if I want to go to prom. Oh, I saw this cool suit set the last time we were at the mall. It’s black with a mint green vest and tie. If I ever decide to go to prom, that’s what I want to wear. “ My sister’s god mother looks at me and with out fail has something critical to say at me. “Now you know you need to stop being stupid. Wearing a suit to prom. What, do you think you’re a dike now?”

On the inside I’d have a variety of choice words I wanted to reply back with but because I knew she would just argue with me I chose not to respond. Into the silence she comments again to herself yet directed at me. “Always saying something stupid. You don’t need to be talking if all you gonna say dumb stuff.” Angry, offended, and ridiculed are the words I could associate with how I felt at that moment.

When we got home my mom said, “Every time we go over there you say something to upset her. Why don’t you just stop talking when we’re there…” My mother found it kind of humorous that this woman always had something to say to me when I dared to speak. “I have the right to my opinion. If she doesn’t like it, it’s her own fault.” I said back. “Yeah… but is it worth starting an argument over every time we go over there?” Without replying I went upstairs to ask my dad to explain to me why me talking and sharing what I thought was such and issues to my sister’s god mother.

Basically he told me that it’s a matter of dominance and respect. When me and my mother talk on the same level in her eyes, it shows that I don’t respect my mother and that my mother isn’t in control. That reminded me of another time where me and my mother were talking in her house and she interjecting. I was trying to pursued my mom to let me go to best friend Jennifer’s house and we were in the process of bargaining because that’s how me and my mother work. If I want to do something and she wants otherwise we find a compromise.

“Why you bargaining with that child? Are you the mother? Look, she said she don’t want you to go so you can’t go. End of story. You need to stop playing game with her Rosemary. And you don’t need to go see that girl anyway. You always want to go over her house, what are you two? Lesbians?” my sister’s godmother barks at us. I noticed that as a pattern she liked to attack my intelligence and gender.

Remembering that scene rose a follow up question for my dad. “So is it like a lack of maturity or is she like too narrow minded?” my dad laughed a little. “It’s a bit of both.”

That struck a chord with me, this realization that adults can be very immature and narrow minded. They get set in their ways and then are too stubborn to talk change upon. I could never have a real conversation with adults like that because everything I would say would be wrong. As James Baldwin would say, “Language, incontestably, reveals the speaker.” In relation to all this, this quote means that if adults like my sister’s god mother took the time to actually listen and process my words, my language, they would see that I’m an intellectual. They would see that my voice was just as defined and meaningful as theirs. They would see that my voice was capable of speaking on equal planes.