同病相憐 - starting with English and Australian English as a child, going back and forth between the two countries, and becoming increasingly complicated with the acquisition of various other languages as the years went by. This really speaks to my own experience, beautifully expressed.
To answer your last question, the floor, such as it is, must be English, my mother tongue, but there is the English I speak with English friends, and that with fellow Australians. I unconsciously code switch most of the time, but there have been occasions when, simultaneously encountering close friends from both countries who really know me well, I have been challenged and confounded by the realisation that however I speak, one side, or possibly both, will think I’m putting on an act; which is not altogether untrue, but not willingly so. Although I am Australian and Australian-born, and have lived more of my adult life in Australia than in England, when I am very tired, or have had more to drink than I probably should, the tones of the 1950s Surrey prep school of my childhood take over, so perhaps that is after all the real floor. My first Chinese teachers were from Beijing, and I have lived there off and on for some 12 years or so, but during the four years I lived in Shanghai I came to modify my accent to something closer to a more standard putonghua; and similarly when in Taipei I adjust. It would not be true to say unconsciously, as I’m aware of what I’m doing, but neither does it feel like a deliberate act of the will. Perhaps it is just a weakness of character on my part. One of my brothers-in-law came to Australia at the age of five and never lost his Derbyshire accent.
Richard, 同病相憐 indeed, and thank you, that means a great deal coming from someone who's lived the back-and-forth himself. What strikes me in what you describe is that it started so early, two Englishes before there was even a choice to make, and then only branched further with each language after. I think that's the part outsiders miss: they imagine you arrive somewhere and settle, when really every new tongue rearranges all the ones already there. I'd love to know whether, after all of it, any single language still feels like the floor you stand on, or whether that question stopped making sense a long time ago.
Just so! But good practice for later years, the Mandarin of Beijing and Taipei, the Spanish of Mexico and Madrid… and so it goes! Thank you for your wonderfully perceptive and insightful writing, on this and other topics.
As someone who grew up speaking central “standard” Thai, learned American English, immersed in Tokyo Japanese and now studying textbook putonghua, I never really had this kind of struggle between dialectic lines before. It was until I came to the UK and experienced the north-south divide that I finally understood this. Of course, my American English got mocked a lot too for speaking like a “stupid yank” 😂😂
I think growing up in Thailand played a big part in why I didn’t really understand this. While some regional prejudices do exist, most people in Bangkok can say a few words from other regional accents because we don’t look down on them; for example, when we eat something really spicy, we use a northeastern word for it, simply because it is the best way to describe that hot feeling in your mouth.
I read this with so much fascination because, as a Malaysian, we grow up in an environment where we end up using multiple languages. The pressure and "shame" I feel is that I was never fast enough to master languages. For example, having lived in Kuala Lumpur for most of my life, I'd be side-eyed for not bothering to learn Cantonese.
Our unique education system - we have schools whose primary languages are either English (private schools), Malay (national schools), Chinese or Indian (vernacular schools) - meant that there's no one Malaysian with the same command of language in any language.
My strongest language is English despite being in a Malay-dominated national school because my family are Northern Peranakans, and the Penang Peranakans are Anglophiles who sent their kids to missionary schools. My parents and I speak a mixture of English and Hokkien at home. Among my siblings, I'm the most fluent in Hokkien and Mandarin. Mandarin was a 'chance of geography'. I grew up in Johor, but unlike my siblings, I just naturally learned Mandarin while they didn't.
The Peranakans are Chinese, but we don't really feel an inferiority for not speaking Mandarin or our native mother tongue fluently because it's understood that most of us *can't*. The Malacca Peranakans, for example, mostly speak Malay.
We also don't feel any shame/superiority/inferiority for learning a language. As I said, if anything our shame comes from not mastering a language well enough.
I'm an odd duck in that I have really good accents in my languages (great Malay and Mandarin accents) but my vocab sucks. My accent makes up for it lol.
So, in summary, Malaysians don't really have an identity crisis over our mastery of language. At least I don't. It just IS. But I hear that among the Chinese educated, they do feel bad if they can't master English.
But again, when most of Malaysian society is multilingual, able to switch to multiple languages (sometimes in one sentence), the shame comes from not mastering a language fast enough.
I think one reason you might have felt so drawn to Cantonese and Taiwanese is their authenticity. For me, Mandarin is a synthetic, unorganic tongue, particularly as it is framed in the PRC, i.e., 规范汉语. I spent decades mastering Mandarin — and have no regrets — but finally came to understand: Few Chinese can cuss with panache in Putonghua, much less use it to 叫床 . . .
This lands hard, and the 叫床 test is the perfect one, because that's the body talking, not the mind, the exact register a standardized tongue can't reach. But I think you're pointing at something even more structural than authenticity. Mandarin as 规范汉语 is a state artifact in a way Cantonese and Taiwanese simply are not, codified, reformed, and propagated from the center as an instrument of administration and national integration.
Hard relate. 作为一个去北京上学前说安徽土话的人, thinking of the untouched affinity between all the 土话 defenders and defectors.
A few years back, I was determined to rid my writing of academic registers, but I soon realized there is no previous "unpolluted" language to return to. The task is actually to invent an updated language befitting a new identity, a new set of purposes and desires. 每个人都在创造他自己的语言。
Just love this post. The writing is so beautiful, it is almost poetic. While I am not Chinese, I feel this has documented my own life journey - just that the languages and the places are different. Your point on Singlish is absolutely on point. This was a joy to read. Thank you!!
If you treat language as a game it’s much easier, much more fun. If it’s a badge of identities, a portal into something of far greater import for your mental and material wellbeing, the consequences are far more serious. You are to be congratulated for putting this so beautifully —in an adopted language — that few people who speak your adopted language natively could ever hope to do.
I do code switch but for different reasons. Initially it was because I didn’t know the words (mostly nouns and a few verbs) so I would speak with a mixture of English and Mandarin, a bit like the Singaporeans I suppose. I learned later that this was odd and to some, it gave them a sense of superiority of my part (which I didn’t intend). I actually found a sense of pride when I could just speak in one language because, well, I had enough mastery to not code switch!
I will say that I didn’t have a sense of shame for speaking a language that’s not mainstream in the west where I grew up. If anything, I felt it was a way that I was different from others and therefore a point of pride.
Growing up is difficult and there are many things that felt “normal” (e.g. being embarrassed about certain things) that, once you grew up, you see as abnormal. Case-in-point, the culture at many (most?) western schools where being dumb was supposedly cool. But that’s a subject all on its own.
同病相憐 - starting with English and Australian English as a child, going back and forth between the two countries, and becoming increasingly complicated with the acquisition of various other languages as the years went by. This really speaks to my own experience, beautifully expressed.
To answer your last question, the floor, such as it is, must be English, my mother tongue, but there is the English I speak with English friends, and that with fellow Australians. I unconsciously code switch most of the time, but there have been occasions when, simultaneously encountering close friends from both countries who really know me well, I have been challenged and confounded by the realisation that however I speak, one side, or possibly both, will think I’m putting on an act; which is not altogether untrue, but not willingly so. Although I am Australian and Australian-born, and have lived more of my adult life in Australia than in England, when I am very tired, or have had more to drink than I probably should, the tones of the 1950s Surrey prep school of my childhood take over, so perhaps that is after all the real floor. My first Chinese teachers were from Beijing, and I have lived there off and on for some 12 years or so, but during the four years I lived in Shanghai I came to modify my accent to something closer to a more standard putonghua; and similarly when in Taipei I adjust. It would not be true to say unconsciously, as I’m aware of what I’m doing, but neither does it feel like a deliberate act of the will. Perhaps it is just a weakness of character on my part. One of my brothers-in-law came to Australia at the age of five and never lost his Derbyshire accent.
Richard, 同病相憐 indeed, and thank you, that means a great deal coming from someone who's lived the back-and-forth himself. What strikes me in what you describe is that it started so early, two Englishes before there was even a choice to make, and then only branched further with each language after. I think that's the part outsiders miss: they imagine you arrive somewhere and settle, when really every new tongue rearranges all the ones already there. I'd love to know whether, after all of it, any single language still feels like the floor you stand on, or whether that question stopped making sense a long time ago.
Just so! But good practice for later years, the Mandarin of Beijing and Taipei, the Spanish of Mexico and Madrid… and so it goes! Thank you for your wonderfully perceptive and insightful writing, on this and other topics.
Great post and thank you for your perspective.
As someone who grew up speaking central “standard” Thai, learned American English, immersed in Tokyo Japanese and now studying textbook putonghua, I never really had this kind of struggle between dialectic lines before. It was until I came to the UK and experienced the north-south divide that I finally understood this. Of course, my American English got mocked a lot too for speaking like a “stupid yank” 😂😂
I think growing up in Thailand played a big part in why I didn’t really understand this. While some regional prejudices do exist, most people in Bangkok can say a few words from other regional accents because we don’t look down on them; for example, when we eat something really spicy, we use a northeastern word for it, simply because it is the best way to describe that hot feeling in your mouth.
I read this with so much fascination because, as a Malaysian, we grow up in an environment where we end up using multiple languages. The pressure and "shame" I feel is that I was never fast enough to master languages. For example, having lived in Kuala Lumpur for most of my life, I'd be side-eyed for not bothering to learn Cantonese.
Our unique education system - we have schools whose primary languages are either English (private schools), Malay (national schools), Chinese or Indian (vernacular schools) - meant that there's no one Malaysian with the same command of language in any language.
My strongest language is English despite being in a Malay-dominated national school because my family are Northern Peranakans, and the Penang Peranakans are Anglophiles who sent their kids to missionary schools. My parents and I speak a mixture of English and Hokkien at home. Among my siblings, I'm the most fluent in Hokkien and Mandarin. Mandarin was a 'chance of geography'. I grew up in Johor, but unlike my siblings, I just naturally learned Mandarin while they didn't.
The Peranakans are Chinese, but we don't really feel an inferiority for not speaking Mandarin or our native mother tongue fluently because it's understood that most of us *can't*. The Malacca Peranakans, for example, mostly speak Malay.
We also don't feel any shame/superiority/inferiority for learning a language. As I said, if anything our shame comes from not mastering a language well enough.
I'm an odd duck in that I have really good accents in my languages (great Malay and Mandarin accents) but my vocab sucks. My accent makes up for it lol.
So, in summary, Malaysians don't really have an identity crisis over our mastery of language. At least I don't. It just IS. But I hear that among the Chinese educated, they do feel bad if they can't master English.
But again, when most of Malaysian society is multilingual, able to switch to multiple languages (sometimes in one sentence), the shame comes from not mastering a language fast enough.
I think one reason you might have felt so drawn to Cantonese and Taiwanese is their authenticity. For me, Mandarin is a synthetic, unorganic tongue, particularly as it is framed in the PRC, i.e., 规范汉语. I spent decades mastering Mandarin — and have no regrets — but finally came to understand: Few Chinese can cuss with panache in Putonghua, much less use it to 叫床 . . .
This lands hard, and the 叫床 test is the perfect one, because that's the body talking, not the mind, the exact register a standardized tongue can't reach. But I think you're pointing at something even more structural than authenticity. Mandarin as 规范汉语 is a state artifact in a way Cantonese and Taiwanese simply are not, codified, reformed, and propagated from the center as an instrument of administration and national integration.
Hard relate. 作为一个去北京上学前说安徽土话的人, thinking of the untouched affinity between all the 土话 defenders and defectors.
A few years back, I was determined to rid my writing of academic registers, but I soon realized there is no previous "unpolluted" language to return to. The task is actually to invent an updated language befitting a new identity, a new set of purposes and desires. 每个人都在创造他自己的语言。
Just love this post. The writing is so beautiful, it is almost poetic. While I am not Chinese, I feel this has documented my own life journey - just that the languages and the places are different. Your point on Singlish is absolutely on point. This was a joy to read. Thank you!!
If you treat language as a game it’s much easier, much more fun. If it’s a badge of identities, a portal into something of far greater import for your mental and material wellbeing, the consequences are far more serious. You are to be congratulated for putting this so beautifully —in an adopted language — that few people who speak your adopted language natively could ever hope to do.
I do code switch but for different reasons. Initially it was because I didn’t know the words (mostly nouns and a few verbs) so I would speak with a mixture of English and Mandarin, a bit like the Singaporeans I suppose. I learned later that this was odd and to some, it gave them a sense of superiority of my part (which I didn’t intend). I actually found a sense of pride when I could just speak in one language because, well, I had enough mastery to not code switch!
I will say that I didn’t have a sense of shame for speaking a language that’s not mainstream in the west where I grew up. If anything, I felt it was a way that I was different from others and therefore a point of pride.
Growing up is difficult and there are many things that felt “normal” (e.g. being embarrassed about certain things) that, once you grew up, you see as abnormal. Case-in-point, the culture at many (most?) western schools where being dumb was supposedly cool. But that’s a subject all on its own.