Saturday, June 1, 2019
Languages :: Personal Narrative Foreign Papers
Languages im torn/rejecting outfits offered me/regretting things ive worn-Ani Difranco, Pale PurpleBilingual people make me feel guilty. I read somewhere that in Sweden as well as many Asian countries schoolchildren be required to learn two languages at the very least, one of them English. I feel proud as a speaker of excellent English. This is in part because the United States is such a powerful entity (the dominating world power), but I dont destiny to think about that. However, when I spent time in Brazil with my Portuguese-speaking native mother, I was a gringa my English forming gravel in the mouth, harsh and conflict against the smooth samba-based rhythms of Portuguese. I was the colonialist, the military colossus, the politicians and baby-kisser. I was the United States.This feels deja vu. I have written this essay before. It got me into New York University. Then it was about finding a ethnical niche during a four-week tourist vacation in Rio, Sao Paulo, and Bahia one summer. I postulated, Up until the summer of 1998, the culture limb of my body sculpture was not nevertheless carved. Rio took up the chisel, and Bahia the hammer. . . I . . .danced the samba. . .and gained a cultural identity. The power of the mind is overwhelming I cannot distinguish whether I truly believed that I became Brazilian on that berth to my motherland or if I just thought such a poignant essay-where I come to the realization that I do not make to speak the language to be Brazilian-would get me into college. My mother is trilingual she speaks Spanish, Portuguese, and English fluently. She has this uncanny ability to recognize the rhythms of foreign languages (foreign. . . what an alienating word that is). What language are they speaking, mommy? became a common question whispered when walking down the street. At one point, she worked for the New York City court system as a translator. And I, I speak but English. Only English. Beautifully, but still. As I wrote in that fateful essay, When I was two I knew more Portuguese than I know now. I picked up a few basic phrases when I visited-wheres the bathroom? and I like chicken-but the only thing Ive retained is how to insert myself. Eu me chamo Lila. I blame most of this on my father. His line was speak English to her.
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