Cesar Cano Language: Unifying and Divisive Tool
Standing in front of me at the checkout
line, stands a man holding several items in his hand. He seems to be in his
early fifties, wears boots, plaid shirt and a hat. With his wife he discusses
the correct price for two of the items in his hands. The entire conversation
takes place Spanish. Neither can reach a satisfying decision on the price and
decide to ask the cashier. I glance over at the cashier. Her black straight
hair, brown eyes, and almond skin tone fit the profile in this side of town. Her
name tag reads Maria. She beckons the couple to her lane. The two eagerly step
forward and immediately bombard her about the price. There is a moment of
silence, and Maria in an exasperated tone declares, “I don’t speak Spanish.” The
man’s enthusiasm is deflated and replaced with exasperation. He cannot believe
this young Hispanic woman refuses to speak their shared language. He turns to
his wife, and in a voice loud enough for the entire store to hear, says, “Con el
nopal en la cara y no habla español!” Which loosely translates into “the cactus
on her face and she can’t speak Spanish.” Cactus is a symbol of Mexico. It
stands at the center of the Mexican flag and part of the regional cuisine.
As
a member of the 1.5 immigrant generation, which defines an individual born in a
foreign country but brought to the USA at a young age and raised in the host
country, the interchange described above occurs with accepted frequency. I have
slung the comical plastered-on-the-forehead-cactus remark at schoolmates, sales
people, and coworkers. New world immigrants from Latin American countries
continue to flow in large waves into the United States. Upon arrival these new
immigrants come into with both members of the dominant culture, and second,
third, fourth, and even fifth generation Hispanics. Some of these established
Hispanics no longer speak Spanish. This creates the abrasive interaction
described above. How important is language to a person? Being caught in the
middle of both worlds led me to think of the importance of language, the
challenges to preserving the mother tongue in future generations, and the
cultural limbo second generation Mexicans find themselves in.
Paule Marshall, an immigrant from Barbados,
believes the “use of language, reflects not only the most fundamental views
[people] hold of themselves and the world but their very conception of reality”
(87). The offspring of Mexican immigrants find themselves caught between two
realities. The reality at home speaks Spanish and sings about tradition, work,
family ties, and community. The reality at school is an English one led by
higher education, independence, modernity, and assimilation. The second
generation lives in two spheres: the public and private. Each sphere is defined
by a different language. English becomes the “dominant language in public
spheres, the mother tongue is more and more restricted to use with social
intimates, especially family members” (Alba et al, 2002). The mother tongue, in
this case Spanish, becomes an intimate language reserved for use exclusively
within the home and mostly to address parents or grandparents. The newly
acquired language is the tool necessary to navigate through school, work, and
social situations. This creates conflict between second and third generation
Mexican Americans and those recently arrived from Mexico. In Mexico, Spanish is
both the public and private language; there is no distinction between spheres.
So, when new immigrants encounter a person of perceived Mexican origin who does
not speak Spanish, it is an anomaly to them. First generation immigrants fail to
understand the two realities second and third generations Mexican Americans are
trapped between. Paule Marshall’s childhood helps highlight yet another facet
of language issues between immigrants and their children. She describes “the
uneasiness and fear…reflected in [the] attitude toward the children…given birth
to in this country” by her mother and the friends which congregated in their
kitchen (Marshall, 85). Such an attitude stems from the language gap between
generations. This gap leads to diminished levels of communication between parent
and child, role reversal, and power imbalance in the family (Schofield et al,
2012). Parents feel the language barrier will hinder their ability to guide and
raise their children in a different culture from their own childhood. Many times
the children of first generation immigrants serve the role of contact between
parents and the dominant society through the practice of language brokering.
Language brokering is defined as “translating or interpreting on behalf of adult
family members or siblings, in conversations with officials or professionals who
do not speak the family’s home language” (Cline et al, 2011). Language brokering
has both positive and negative effects on family dynamics. The children feel
positive about being helpful members of their family. Their linguistics skills
improve at a greater rate since they are constantly using both languages.
Critics of language brokering point to the excessive and stressful
responsibilities placed on the shoulders of young children (Cline et al, 2011).
The greatest danger however could be the reversal of roles in the family. By
being the linguistic link between their parents and the host country, children
adopt a role of parent and the parents the role of child. In their respective
home countries, it would be the parent facing officials and professionals for
the sake of the child. In the United States many immigrant children fluent in
English accompany their parents to doctor visits, job interviews, social
gatherings, banks, etc., essentially anywhere the language barrier may be a
problem. This additional responsibility accelerates the time in which children
will no longer depend on their parents and make their way in the new society.
Justifiably so, parents resent the diminished role they are relegated too due to
their lack of English fluency. This feeds the exasperation felt at children who
cannot speak Spanish. Language brokering becomes a double edge sword. The need
of the parent pushes the child into independence. An immigrant youth must be
child and contributor simultaneously.
How can a child reconcile both of these
realities into one unified self-identity? It is no easy task. Children are
pulled in opposite directions by various factors. Racial discrimination pushes
many second generation youths to cut ties with their culture. They cut off
Spanish from their life to avoid being associated with a disadvantaged minority
by the host country (Portes & Rivas, 2011). Alba et al (2002) state a “lack of
English proficiency is a serious disadvantage in the U.S. labor market” (p.468).
Portes and Rivas (2011) point out youths at a linguistic disadvantage face
“insurmountable barriers” in their adult lives. Such barriers affect chances for
higher education, job opportunities, and improved quality of life. Immigrant
parents understand the importance of acquiring the language skills necessary to
succeed in the new country. Parents face a difficult decision, do they encourage
the acquisition of a new language and with it new cultural values for the sake
of financial success? Or do parents devote themselves to maintain a family
language at the risk of endangering their children’s future? In some cases focus
their children’s linguistic abilities to the language of the host country,
English. These children grow up and raise English speaking families. In most
cases of immigrant families, Spanish is lost by the third generation. Michal Tannebaum (2012) quotes Eva Hoffman addressing the
issue of an interior language, the language of a person’s inner voice, the
language of dreams. It is often asked of bilingual individuals if the think in
one language or another, if they dream in their native tongue or their new
language. The mother tongue is central to a person’s internal sense, self and
cultural identity, and serves as a link to childhood and family. What happens
emotionally to an individual when the mother tongue is systematically pushed
aside, or shares the mind, with another language? For immigrant children,
generations 1.5 and 2nd, it is one of the most trying aspects of
growing up in a foreign country. The age of adolescence is typically a turbulent
time for youths worldwide as they try to find their place in the world, and find
direction for their adult lives. This journey is compounded for immigrants
because now the pull comes between two cultures, two sets of values, two
languages, and two paths. And perhaps the need for one interior language makes
future generations opt for the functional language of the host country. Language can be a tool of cultural preservation as well as
the scalpel that cuts cultural ties. The decision to adhere to a native language
is conflicted by socio-economic, emotional, filial, and personal factors. As
long as new waves of Mexican immigrants continue to arrive in the United States,
a friction will exist between the Mexican Americans already established in the
dominant culture. It is unfair to judge any group as making the best decision or
whether they should suffer criticism for their decision. Language serves as a
key to self-identity and the search for the self is a universal human quality.
References Alba, R., Logan, J., Lutz, A.,
Stults, B. (2002). Only english by the third generation? Loss and preservation
of the mother tongue among the grandchildren of contemporary immigrants.
Demography, 39(3), 467-484. Cline, T., Crafter, S., O’Dell,
L. Abreu, G. (2011). Young people’s representations of language brokering.
Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural
Development, 32(3), 207-220. Marshall, P. The Making of a
Writer: from the poets in the kitchen. Portes, A., Rivas, A. (2011).
The adaptation of migrant children. The
Future of Children, 21(1), 219-246. Schofield, T., Beaumont, K.,
Widaman, K., Jochem, R. (2012). Parent and child fluency in a common language:
Implications for the parent-child relationship and later academic success in
mexican american families. Journal of
Family Psychology, 26(6), 869-879. Tannenbaum, M. (2011). Family
language policy as a form of coping or defence mechanism.
Journal of Multilingual and Multicultural
Development, 33(1), 57-66.
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