The words I yearn for: A personal essay

Sometimes, I reach the border of the translatable, where the languages that normally exist happily together in my mind disaffiliate.
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Sometimes, I reach the border of the translatable, where the languages that normally exist happily together in my mind disaffiliate.
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It’s been only since arriving in the United States that I’ve subconsciously “Americanized” my name to suit the American English phonetic pronunciation.
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Like many of us, my morning routine includes anxiously scrolling through the news as soon as I wake up. Lately, I’ve noticed a curious trend in how certain events are described. See, for example, this The Washington Post headline from December 2021: “A Black teen died in custody while being
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you speak four languages. you use these words to be you. and yet you still don’t know if language empowers you? if your language and their language is the same language? I. you have an identity crisis — or at least your lousy English makes you think you do.
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I know from school and dictionaries that language has defined meanings, but I learned from my experience of speaking Spanish how words also have tastes, smells, sounds and sights.
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As with most abstract concepts, the language we use to approximate mental health shapes our attitudes toward it. In the case of mental health, this often results in growing up with stigma.
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One of the weirdest things about being an international student is dealing with two or more sets of slang. Here are some of my favorite Bajan words to add to your speech.
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Our local Berkeley alley is now “dodgy,” not sketchy; elevators are labeled as “lifts;” American friends use “bloody” and “bum” in place of ruder options.
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I’m an immigrant, and Malayalam is my mother tongue. I’m an immigrant, and Malayalam is my second language. Both are true, but the latter I’ve always hated.
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The language of our family or our culture can help ground us, but what happens when a person doesn’t know the language of their culture?
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