“I am my language” means you are your culture, traditions, and what you speak. Your belief and communications with the world resemble who you are. For example, I speak Mexican Spanish because I grew up in a Mexican household yet, I also grew up in Brooklyn since the age of 5 which in many cases people say I have a Brooklyn accent and I use NYC slang at times. Since I can speak two languages it creates an overlapped dimension of communications. My Spanish language helps me stay in touch with my family and heritage that was left behind. American English has helped me meet many new cultures and people especially living in NYC. I have used many of the phrases and words that Anzaldua mentioned due to us being from the same country. Anzaldua quoted, “Until I am free to write bilingually and to switch codes without having always to translate, while I still have to speak English or Spanish when I would rather speak Spanglish, and as long as I have to accommodate the English speakers rather than having them accommodate me, my tongue will be illegitimate.”, this quote stuck with me since switching among both languages is something I have been doing since I learned how to speak English. Being a first-generation college student or first generation of anything in this country has come with its bumpy road of translation such as even having to speak Spanglish in order to have a sense of what you are trying to say. But at this point Spanglish has become a part of who I am. I also identify as a DACA recipient and under this program it prevents individuals who were bought to the U.S.A. as minors from being immediately deported, a work permit that expires after two years, subject to renewal, and a chance for higher education. Since I was very young when bought to the U.S, learning the American customs were not hard at all but the American Language was because of its tricky hearings and spellings. In mix of NYC I also have my “home” language when speaking with friends such a Anzaldua had with hers. I tended to notice my code switching in high school since my school was the most diverse in NYC, but my Brooklyn accent will still cut through. Society and languages around me all varied that it impacted my speaking especially when it came to Spanish specifically. Since my friends and I all spoke American English, the differs of Dominican, Mixed, Guatemalan, Mexican, and European Spanish have contributed to my way of speaking the Spanish language. Besides being from the city, as far as I can remember my grandma would say this every time I would cry “callate que estas llamando a los lovos” translating to “shut up you are calling the wolves”, saying this would make me calm down since or quiet Mexican pueblo nights were filled with scavengers. This joys me with the diverse representation that I have. My life is mostly NYC which I am proud of but I’m also joyful to be able to connect with the extensions of the Spanish language that I originated from.

“I am my language” signifies an identity belonging to someone through ancestry, heritage, and upbringing. For me, a gay Chinese American born and raised in New York and Long Island defines who I am and the languages I speak: English, gay slang, and Cantonese, a dialect of Chinese predominantly spoken in Hong Kong, Macau, and the Guangdong Province in China. “Wild tongues can’t be tamed, they can only be cut out” (page 69) highlights non-English speakers having their tongues cut out because speaking perfect, standard English is the expectation in America (Anzaldúa 69). Growing up in a bilingual household with my parents flipping between English and Cantonese constantly in addition to my grandmothers’ limited and broken English, I ended up having to take speech classes because of my improper pronunciations of English words through elementary school, like how Anzaldúa took speech classes in college to get rid of the accents. By the time I finished elementary school, my Cantonese-English accent was gone and my pronunciation by American standards improved.

The term “gwei lo (鬼佬)” in Cantonese, my family’s native tongue, makes me feel me, but it does not necessarily bring me joy. Translated to English, “gwei lo” equates to “ghost man.” However, native Cantonese speakers normally use this term as slang for westerners or foreigners, especially for Americans. For me, I am a “gwei lo” when it comes to my Chinese American identity because this makes you stuck in the middle. So, I cannot solely identify myself as Chinese or American since I am American-born Chinese (“ABC”), a Chinese American slang used to describe the offspring of Chinese immigrant parents who were born in America. To an American, I speak English and have citizenship, but I am physically and culturally different. To a Chinese person, I am physically the same, but I barely speak the native language well and I am culturally different also with a lack of citizenship. Therefore, I am a “gwei lo” because I am a foreigner to the Chinese and American people due to my “ABC” label and upbringing with both cultures that makes me too much of a stranger to either identity. But like Anzaldúa and the Chicanos, growing up Chinese American resembles its own kind of culture. For some of my fellow Chinese Americans that I know and I, the culture represents a status of feeling disconnected to our ancestry, enjoying our native food, some native and American traditions, speaking our native tongue with no reading or writing skills, and a multitude of different things that somehow makes us Chinese Americans feel more connected to our Chinese heritage in an American society where we adapt to survive in a world where everyone does not look, act, think, or speak similarly to us or our parents. For example, Hong Kong style mahjong draws me closer to my Chinese heritage and brings me joy because the game of mahjong originated in China, the rules for this style came from Hong Kong where my grandmother comes from, and the game pieces itself have Chinese symbols and characters. In addition to mahjong’s Chinese origins, when I sit down to play a game of mahjong with my family or my friends I taught, I always use a mix of Cantonese and English to speak while playing which makes me feel extremely Chinese American due to the way my tongue functions throughout the game. Therefore, outsiders who do not have Chinese heritage would most likely not understand the game of Hong Kong style mahjong because the rules for mahjong varies by region, like languages, and the game utilizes Chinese characters and phrases. Overall, growing up Chinese American combines two identities to an extent where it feels impossible to solely identify with one; thus creating a new sort of culture and language consisting of weak Chinese skills and somewhat proficient English coinciding with a disconnected feeling to our Chinese heritage.

“Chicanas who grew up speaking Chicano Spanish have internalized the belief that we speak poor Spanish.”, this quote reminds me of when I used to live with my Mother who speaks semi broken and grammatically incorrect English mixed with Japanese phrases. Because of this I picked up a lot of those same patterns and didn’t know a lot of English equivalents for Japanese words. This made me feel very stupid at times since I wouldn’t know how to properly describe certain feelings or how to say everyday terms. I honestly believed I was lesser than others because I couldn’t speak English as well and had a more limited vocabulary. Even though it’s not the exact same, English being the main language I was expected to speak and me not being able to speak it to the extent of my peers had a very large impact on me and pushed me to better my understanding of the language. This in turn caused my love for reading and stories, which has now evolved into my love for movies and cartoons. The mix of Japanese and English I speak with my Mom is very similar to how Anzaldúa speaks Spanglish. I can speak conversational Japanese, but just like how I still have some problems remembering English words I don’t fully know Japanese and still have trouble with some grammar and words/phrases. Because of this I tend to mix in some English words with a Japanese like pronunciation or will say full sentences in chunks of English. Sometimes this seeps into when I’m speaking English, since I still don’t say the r in words like Door instead pronouncing it with an a sound at the end which is something that is very common in words that Japanese has taken from English.

One of my favorite phrases is “You smell like sun/outside”, I know that it is a phrase that is used more in the South. My dad’s side of the family uses it a lot to describe how someone smells when they’ve been outside for a while in the sunny and hot weather. This was said to me a lot as a child growing up so it’s linked with those memories. It’s an interesting phrase since when I tell people it their immediate reaction is “What does that even mean? What does sun smell like?”, and all I can respond is “Sun, I don’t know it’s just that smell you get from being outside on a hot day.” I looked up the phrase online to see what that smell exactly is, and from what I can gather it might be a chemical reaction or just the smell of dried sweat. I also find it very interesting that my Dad says the phrase since he grew up in New York, which means that my Grandma must have been the one who taught him the phrase. This is also interesting since my family has mostly been New Yorkers since about 3 generations ago, making the phrase something that has been consistently in my families vocabulary despite being Northerners for so long.

When I hear the phrase, “I am my own language”, it means to me that everyone has their own way of representing themselves. Everyone has their own culture and beliefs that makes them different from the rest of people. On page 76, Anzaldua writes “There are more subtle ways that we internalize identification, especially in the forms of image and emotions”, elaborating on the idea that everyone represents their identity through image, emotion, beliefs, etc. I agree with this argument, as I am also close with my culture. My parents were born in Poland and my brother and I were born here, in New York City. The Polish language and culture was passed down to us by them. I am proud of my culture and identity and will always represent myself as a polak. I find the polish language interesting because there are some phrases that are different than American phrases, in terms of meaning. For example, a common American phrase would be “Bless you”. Usually after someone around you sneezes, the polite thing to say would be bless you. In Polish there is also a phrase for when someone sneezes. In Polish we say “Na zdrowie”, which interestingly doesn’t mean bless you, but translates to cheers. I find the Polish language and Polish culture both very interesting in their own ways. I would have to say that one of my most favorite things about the polish culture that brings me joy is the Polish food. We have many different food from American food that I like, which include zapiekanki (polish sandwiches) and pierogi (polish dumplings). I am close to many polish people around me and my closest friend group in particular all have similar hobbies, which include dunking and working out at the gym. Overall the polish language and culture represent my identity and I agree with Anzaldua’s argument that everyone should be proud of their culture, no matter the differences.

-David Ciborowski