Many years ago I was at a reading by Jhumpa Lahiri when she was just starting to work on her book in Italian. She said something that I think about all the time. “My mother will never love me in English” I was with a bilingual American who spoke to her mother exclusively in English & her father exclusively in Italian. She burst into tears at the recognition of those words.
The thing about bilingualism and processing emotions makes me think about the time period when I lived in Mexico and became fluent in Spanish (a language I’m no longer fluent in, because I’ve been living in Germany for the past 24 years and German has been stomping on my Spanish for so long that I can barely speak it anymore):
While living in Mexico and learning Spanish, I had a chance to practice speaking every day, practically all day long (I had to--I lived with a family who only spoke Spanish) and was surprised to see a different “me” emerge in this second language. I became a person who’d react quite strongly (emotionally), to things I found pleasurable, using flowery language like “that enchants me” (me encanta)--something I would never say in English. The fact that Spanish uses this form (it does that to me) rather than the way in English, we “do” all these things ourselves (I like, I love, I drop things).
And somehow this opened me up to things there that I didn’t and don’t like in my own culture, for example, country music (rancheras). I would sing along with the taxi driver while on longer drives, join in the group singing in a local pub when someone pulled out a guitar and started singing. Even cried while listening to Chavela Vargas singing Flores Negras. These are all things I never did while living in the States, nor have I done anything similar since moving to Germany.
Somehow, in the Spanish-speaking part of me, I am able to enjoy the passionate expressions of emotion in the cheesiest of music, in poetry, in art and film. And I feel I was a different person while I lived there.
This is amazing! The study about processing emotions differently in a second language is something I always felt but didn't quite know how to articulate. At college I was always way less nervous during a spoken exam when it was in a foreign language (majored in language teaching). It was literally like putting on a different persona, or existing behind a glass - things are a little muted. I find the metaphors about this experience in the article extremely on point.
This is so fascinating! I would love to hear more about multilingualism! This post has inspired an evening of disagreement and questions between my partner and I - we have different mother tongues and our son is learning 3 “native “ languages at age 1.5, one of which neither of us speaks. (So much to say on that topic too!) It’s always been a tension for me as someone who deeply loves precise language and linguistic expression to find intimacy with someone who can’t share the same joy and connection but who reveals so much more/different about my own experience with languages. Similar to experiences building friendships in adult life abroad and finding immediate connection when language comes 100% naturally. I would also love to hear more about (I don’t know how to express it…) multilingualism vs. fluency, i.e. mother tongues from early childhood vs. acquired languages later in life.
I also feel there is something to be said about different language identities and gender dysphoria: using the correct pronouns, the discomfort of being misgendered in languages that use gender (like Spanish or Russian). It's somewhat like insults or praise hitting differently. And the identity you choose when you start transitioning while speaking a new language. I dunno, there could be a story in it.
The headline question itself triggered a response for me, as I've been going through a years-long journey of emotional self-discovery. While I'm multilingual, partly thanks to my upbringing -- and I do agree with the premise that communication in a non-native tongue can enable less cluttered thinking and feeling -- I experienced childhood emotional neglect that left me unable to identify and address my own emotional state. My own answer to the question is "no," but likely for a reason not tied to linguistic expression as explored here.
Adelina's story of understanding Hindi reminds me of a family anecdote. My mother is from a little town in Brazil with a heavy Syrian and Lebanese presence. He mother was not from a Lebanese family and didn't speak a word of Arabic, but my mom's father side of the family was full of elderly immigrants. One of her great-aunts, in old age, would "forget" to speak Portuguese and just revert to speaking Arabic. Her mother could somehow always understand what she meant and reply in Portuguese and the two could have conversations like that.
Many years ago I was at a reading by Jhumpa Lahiri when she was just starting to work on her book in Italian. She said something that I think about all the time. “My mother will never love me in English” I was with a bilingual American who spoke to her mother exclusively in English & her father exclusively in Italian. She burst into tears at the recognition of those words.
The thing about bilingualism and processing emotions makes me think about the time period when I lived in Mexico and became fluent in Spanish (a language I’m no longer fluent in, because I’ve been living in Germany for the past 24 years and German has been stomping on my Spanish for so long that I can barely speak it anymore):
While living in Mexico and learning Spanish, I had a chance to practice speaking every day, practically all day long (I had to--I lived with a family who only spoke Spanish) and was surprised to see a different “me” emerge in this second language. I became a person who’d react quite strongly (emotionally), to things I found pleasurable, using flowery language like “that enchants me” (me encanta)--something I would never say in English. The fact that Spanish uses this form (it does that to me) rather than the way in English, we “do” all these things ourselves (I like, I love, I drop things).
And somehow this opened me up to things there that I didn’t and don’t like in my own culture, for example, country music (rancheras). I would sing along with the taxi driver while on longer drives, join in the group singing in a local pub when someone pulled out a guitar and started singing. Even cried while listening to Chavela Vargas singing Flores Negras. These are all things I never did while living in the States, nor have I done anything similar since moving to Germany.
Somehow, in the Spanish-speaking part of me, I am able to enjoy the passionate expressions of emotion in the cheesiest of music, in poetry, in art and film. And I feel I was a different person while I lived there.
This is amazing! The study about processing emotions differently in a second language is something I always felt but didn't quite know how to articulate. At college I was always way less nervous during a spoken exam when it was in a foreign language (majored in language teaching). It was literally like putting on a different persona, or existing behind a glass - things are a little muted. I find the metaphors about this experience in the article extremely on point.
This is so fascinating! I would love to hear more about multilingualism! This post has inspired an evening of disagreement and questions between my partner and I - we have different mother tongues and our son is learning 3 “native “ languages at age 1.5, one of which neither of us speaks. (So much to say on that topic too!) It’s always been a tension for me as someone who deeply loves precise language and linguistic expression to find intimacy with someone who can’t share the same joy and connection but who reveals so much more/different about my own experience with languages. Similar to experiences building friendships in adult life abroad and finding immediate connection when language comes 100% naturally. I would also love to hear more about (I don’t know how to express it…) multilingualism vs. fluency, i.e. mother tongues from early childhood vs. acquired languages later in life.
I also feel there is something to be said about different language identities and gender dysphoria: using the correct pronouns, the discomfort of being misgendered in languages that use gender (like Spanish or Russian). It's somewhat like insults or praise hitting differently. And the identity you choose when you start transitioning while speaking a new language. I dunno, there could be a story in it.
i am very interested in whomever first responds 'no' to this poll. is it just a contrarian move or a genuine feeling. and if so, please elucidate :)
The headline question itself triggered a response for me, as I've been going through a years-long journey of emotional self-discovery. While I'm multilingual, partly thanks to my upbringing -- and I do agree with the premise that communication in a non-native tongue can enable less cluttered thinking and feeling -- I experienced childhood emotional neglect that left me unable to identify and address my own emotional state. My own answer to the question is "no," but likely for a reason not tied to linguistic expression as explored here.
Adelina's story of understanding Hindi reminds me of a family anecdote. My mother is from a little town in Brazil with a heavy Syrian and Lebanese presence. He mother was not from a Lebanese family and didn't speak a word of Arabic, but my mom's father side of the family was full of elderly immigrants. One of her great-aunts, in old age, would "forget" to speak Portuguese and just revert to speaking Arabic. Her mother could somehow always understand what she meant and reply in Portuguese and the two could have conversations like that.