“We die. That may be the meaning of life. But we do language. That may be the measure of our lives,” ― Toni Morrison.
My aunt wrote to me about my last post and commented that it really does make you think about how much language is tied up with identity and it really resonated. My blog is called “but who you be really” because it’s a common question that I get asked in St. Kitts and it means more than just “who are you?” and more “who are your people, what is your story?” When I had the café in mum’s art gallery in St. Kitts I would get asked this on a daily basis by locals and tourists alike; locals wanting to know how a young white person like me (with a South African? Australian? accent) had ended up in St. Kitts and locals wanting to know how come I sounded like them. I have so many different accents and none of them are forced. I don’t know what my natural speaking voice sounds like. I speak Kittitian amongst my peers at home, a mix of British English and Kittitian with my mum and some sort of hybrid English with foreigners. When I’m selling to my American customers I say “twennee and thirdy” instead of “twenty and thirty” because I can’t help but pronounce it in the same way as they do, so that they know I am saying the same number (experience has taught me to change how I pronounce it). The language I use is made up from a combination of my life in St. Kitts with a British mother, my studies in the UK and Ireland, my travels and now my attempt to enter into some part of Spanish life. And how does everything I’ve done before now shape who I am, right here and now?
In English it’s not just the way that my accent changes though – my demeanour and sense of humour do too. I think, and have also been told, that I am funniest when speaking in Kittitian. There is a quickness, and definitely at times a harshness, to the humour but it’s also when I’m at my most relaxed. So it made me wonder about what I’m like in Spanish. I still struggle with picking up little jokes and I definitely fail pretty much every time I try to be humorous. But I seem to have made friends despite not being funny which for me is generally quite an important thing. Now just being able to speak and be understood is pretty high on the list. As my Spanish improves, obviously the goal is to say things correctly and with some complexity (here’s me thinking I can have complex thoughts, ha!).
In Spanish I have to think about whether I am speaking to one person or in a group, if I want to use the polite usted form of the verb or if I am comfortable tuteando. And then you have to throw the dreaded subjunctive in which has a lot of beauty and nuance but lawd it does give some headache as it speaks about uncertainties and desires. There are so many ways of expressing something and a switch between the indicative or the subjunctive can not only change the meaning completely but additionally how the speaker is perceived. I was once told I could be a bit rude or brusque in Spanish which has never (yet) been my intention but I think it may be because words fail me and so I try to say it in the simplest way possible which isn’t necessarily lo más bonito. As my Spanish improves I am obviously expanding my vocabulary and at times look for words of a higher calibre and it occurs to me that this plays into my identity too because it ought to demonstrate to the listener that I am potentially capable of talking about more than just the weather (which, as I’m in southern Spain is generally great and there’s not much more to say on that).
Language is so wrapped up in identity because it is one of the ways that we are able to connect to someone else and how we recognise whether or not they share some of the things that we identify with. In this new time of having our faces covered by masks, we are less able to facially express things (of which I am a huge fan) and so words seem even more vital now. And if my words (and thus my language) fail me, then it almost feels as though a part of my identity is failing. It’s not only my ability to not show my personality but also the loss of possibility of discovering shared identities. Again I need a reminder that patience is key in this.
So I suppose I’m finding that maybe I have several different identities that are forever changing according to the environment in which I find myself (and the language that I am speaking at the time). They all sit more comfortably together as each year passes, coming out as the need arises and adapting as I learn more from each environment.
Evolution. Evolución.
But Who You Be, Really? 