Language

RECENT POSTS

More on the languages we don’t speak – but are presumed to

Photo by Florian SEROUSSI/Flickr (Creative Commons)

A couple of posts this week have explored the awkward moments when people are presumed to speak (or not speak) a certain language because of how they look, whether they be children of immigrants who don’t speak their parents’ native tongue, light-skinned Latinos mistaken for non-Latino whites, Filipinos mistaken for Latinos or any other linguistic mistaken-identity case.

The most recent post featured two readers’ personal anecdotes and drew a couple of additional comments, including this one from Sylvia Cabus:

I’ve been mistaken for many nationalities, even Brazilian-Japanese, but fellow Filipinos don’t believe I’m from the Philippines.

The language problem is complicated as well because I speak Visayan, not Tagalog, and my Moroccan husband (who looks Latino) and I speak French at home.

That does sound complicated, although Lun30 pointed out the bright side:

Oh, that is why I love this country. It is so diverse!

I am from Ecuador and everyone thinks I am Peruvian or Venezuelan, no worries. But with my blond dyed hair I could pass for…whoever that speaks English… I do, but I have to admit that Spanish will be my main language ever. English (and this amazing country) united us…

Read the original post here, which highlighted an essay from a half Filipina, half German-Irish writer who is consistently presumed to speak Spanish, but doesn’t.

If anyone identifies, share your story below.

When you’re expected to speak a language you don’t – or vice versa

Photo by polandeze/Flickr (Creative Commons)

A short post yesterday highlighted a recent essay from a writer who is part Filipina and part German-Irish, but is often presumed to be Latina – and therefore, to speak Spanish. Only that she can’t.

Spanish makes her nervous “because I can’t speak it, and I look like I should,” author Sabina Murray wrote on The Nervous Breakdown website. “If you speak to me in Spanish, it feels like an invitation to something great that, unfortunately, I can’t accept.”

As expected, the post resonated with readers who posted comments about their own experiences with the languages people expect them to speak – or not – based on how they look.

The “or not” is a biggie, too. Take it from yours truly, a native Spanish-speaking Latina who is all too often asked “How did you learn to speak Spanish so well?”

Here’s the comment that Elson Trinidad posted:

Yes, I get this ALL THE TIME as a Filipino. Ironically, though I’m fluent in neither, I know more Spanish than Tagalog. Having grown up all my life to embrace my Filipino heritage, it bugs me a bit when people speak to me in Spanish…but I’m also a native Angeleno and it just comes with the territory, so if I understand what they’re saying and can respond in Spanish, I’ll do that.

What REALLY annoys me is if I tell a (nearly always) 1st generation Filipino that I’m a kababayan (fellow Filipino) and they’ll be in disbelief, and in fact doubt my Filipino-ness. Maybe it’s because I have an ‘American’ accent, which smashes their paradigm of what defines a ‘Filipino,’ but sadly in my life I’ve been told by waaaaaaaay more Filipinos that I’m “Not Filipino” than white people who have told me I’m “Not American.”

On the other hand, the other week, I was buying oranges from my local farmer’s market and the Latino vendor said “Maraming Salamat!” to me as I paid for my purchase. I smiled.

That made my day.

And on the other side of that coin, this comment from Engrpax, who identifies as Norwegian-Mexican-Jewish and speaks more Spanish than his half-Peruvian son in law, who people assume speaks Spanish but doesn’t (confusing enough?):

I, on the other hand, am Anglo appearing, (blond hair, blue eyes, I’m of half Norwegian descent and I’ve been told that I spoke Norwegian before English, although I don’t remember it at all), but I am also of Mexican descent, and I speak Spanish with some ease…

Nevertheless, I was also raised in a half Jewish family, where Yiddish was the other family (business) language.  I’ve also formally studied Arabic, French, and Japanese with varying results.

I have an adopted (Anglo appearing) daughter who is of Irish/Italian descent who also easily speaks Spanish; she is married to a man who is of German/Peruvian descent, who looks very Latino, but doesn’t speak Spanish at all. In social/public situations, he is often addressed in Spanish, and she has to reply for him.

Oh, yeah, we live in So. California, where Spanish IS the other language…

More thoughts, anyone? Have you ever been presumed to speak a language that you don’t speak because of your appearance, derided for not speaking your native tongue, or thought not to speak it (when you do) because you don’t fit an expected stereotype?

The cultural mashup dictionary: Tweecanos

Photo by TexasT

I’ve never met @xicano007, but a tweet from this East L.A. blogger and sports card collector brings us yet another entry for our evolving dictionary of cultural mashup terms: tweecanas and tweecanos.

Here’s how it was used, in a tweet from yesterday mentioning an upcoming performance by Aztlan Underground:

RT @xicano007: Next Saturday at the BLVD in BOYLE HEIGHTS join @Aztlanug @laloalcaraz & some tweecanas/tweecanos for a night of rebeldia

It’s perfect. Not sure if @xicano007 coined it, but who cares? Plus it sounds like a great show.

Multi-American’s cultural mashup dictionary kicked off this spring. It’s a collection of occasional entries, bits and pieces of the evolving lexicon of words, terms and phrases coined as immigrants and their descendants influence the English language, and it influences them.

We’ve been on a social media kick so far, with entries like Googlear and Twittear and Feisbuk. The series started off with the meaning and etymology of the term 1.5 generation.

Have suggestion for an entry? Feel free to post it below.

The cultural mashup dictionary: Twittear and Feisbuk

Photo by TexasT

A recent post on the neologism Googlear has inspired two related entries to Multi-American’s evolving cultural mashup dictionary: The social media mashup terms Twittear and Feisbuk.

First, the Wiktionary definition of twittear:

Etymology

From the online microblogging website, Twitter.

Verb

twittear (first-person singular present twitteo, first-person singular preterite twitteé, past participle twitteado)

1. (Internet) to tweet

I’ve used and heard “twittear” among Spanish-English bilinguals for quite a while, but there’s also this adaptation below, as posted in the comments under the “googlear” post by ar2ro:

more than likely i see “el twitter” being used more in time than “twittear.”

ex: ya mandaste el tweet? (did you send the tweet?)
mire tu mesaje en el twitter. (i saw you message on twitter)
me gusta el twitter (i like twitter)

twittear somehow does not sound right. even googlear sounds a bit funky, but does roll off the tongue in spanish rather well.

Then there’s Feisbuk, which began as a Spanish-friendly unofficial phonetic spelling for “Facebook” but has taken on a life of its own. There are Feisbuk Facebook pages, a spoof analog version, even a page inspired by an alternate pronunciation (“Feisbul”) called “mi mama dice feisbul,” or “my mother says feisbul.”

“Twittear” has been similarly inspirational: There’s a Twittear.com, described in Spanish as “a place where people can meet and leave their ‘twitts.’ ”

The cultural mashup dictionary kicked off earlier this month with the etymology of the term 1.5 generation. Have suggestion for an entry? Feel free to post it below.

Pik-sa, pisa or pizza?

Pizza (or pik-sa, or pisa) con jalapeños, May 2009

A reader responding to a recent collection of awkward language moments experienced by English learners, or people who were raised by them, has shared a good one: “pik-sa,” better known as pizza.

Edith Padilla wrote:

I cannot seem to shake my habit of saying “pik-sa” instead of “pit-za.” I don’t make that mistake with the word mozzarella but pizza is a whole different story.

I’ve heard that one among Latinos, as well as “pisa,” like in the leaning tower of Pisa or the Spanish verb “pisar,” meaning to step or tread on. I visited my parents last weekend and shared a “pisa” with them for lunch. A Hawaiian pisa with barbecued chicken, which was quite tasty.

Have an ESL moment to share? Feel free to post anecdotes below.

The cultural mashup dictionary: Googlear

Photo by TexasT

Thank you, News Taco, for calling to mind a term that merits a place in the evolving cultural mashup dictionary: Googlear.

Yesterday the website published a brief post on a report from ClickZ, which provides marketing news, on the Google search habits of Latinos. I’d seen the report earlier and it’s interesting in itself: Among other things, 93 percent of Latinos use Google for searches, 80 percent of Spanish keyword searches come from the search engine’s English interface (which likely means that bilingual Latinos are searching the English interface), and Latinos are big smartphone users, with a greater tendency to use cell phones in their searches than the general market.

But back to the term “googlear,” which the post featured prominently in a graphic. I say this all the time without thinking about it. It’s not just any neologism but a double one, a new term coined from another new term. Here is the sort-of official definition of googlear from Wikipedia:

Googlear (guglear o googlear) es un neologismo que es cada vez más corriente entre los usuarios de internet que utilizan el buscador Google.

Translated into English:

Googlear (guglear or googlear) is a neologism that is ever more common among Internet users who use the search engine Google.

The name of the search engine officially became a verb, as in “to google,” in 2006, when it was added to the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Dictionary.

There will be more entries of this ilk, such as “twittear.” In the meantime, if you have a suggestion, feel free to post it below.

Five awkward language moments

Photo by Visentico/Sento/Flickr (Creative Commons)

In a post earlier this week, I described what can best be called being haunted by the ESL ghost. I learned English in kindergarten and have no discernible accent, no trace of my native Spanish in my otherwise very American-sounding speech.

But growing up in a family of immigrant English learners, I picked up many of the mispronunciations that are common to those who learn English as a second language, and some of these dog me to this day.

In the post I shared a couple of awkward language moments, like times I’ve mispronounced colander as “co-LAN-der” and my tendency to call a skiing balaclava a “ba-CLA-va,” which sounds a bit like one of my favorite pastries.

Since then, readers have responded by sharing some of their own ESL moments. Here are a few, edited slightly for typos:

Rogelio Gómez Hernández wrote:

Try confusing chicken and kitchen. Or wheel with will (as in testament).

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Introducing the cultural mashup dictionary: Our first term, 1.5 generation

Photo by TexasT/Flickr (Creative Commons)

Just like Southern California’s culture is shaped by immigrants and their descendants, so is its language. There is an evolving lexicon of words, terms and phrases coined here and elsewhere in the U.S. where immigrants have influenced the English language, and it has influenced them.

And it’s worth compiling into its own dictionary of sorts. Today I’m introducing the first entry, a term I use often: 1.5 generation.

Here’s how Wikipedia defines it:

The term 1.5 generation or 1.5G refers to people who immigrate to a new country before or during their early teens. They earn the label the “1.5 generation” because they bring with them characteristics from their home country but continue their assimilation and socialization in the new country. Their identity is thus a combination of new and old culture and tradition.

There’s a bit more to it than that. I use it rather loosely to describe people who, like me, arrived in the United States as children. But the term, and how it’s used, is rife with complexity.

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