Perhaps the beauty—and challenge—of doing second language research lies in its propensity to provide the researcher unexpected moments of reflexivity. In the following text (for a lack of a better word), I share my reflections about language, identity, and one’s ‘right to talk,’ inspired from reading and discussing Norton’s (2013) book on identity in language learning with two of my peers. Though our initial reading and discussion was borne out of a class assignment, my text was borne out of an unexpected moment of reflexivity. Somewhere between poetry and prose, I found myself thinking and writing about the same concepts that Norton compellingly explored in her book, concepts that my peers and I hope to draw from in our own research. Below is my attempt to articulate—and exercise—my right to talk as a speaker, a teacher, and a researcher of English as a second language.
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Prologue: Norton (2013) emphasizes that language learners’ ‘right to talk’ is central to the process of co-constructing an identity in a shifting and sometimes restricting world. It is difficult to learn a language that requires you to speak in order to learn it, but that deprives you the opportunity to speak for yourself—about yourself. “Learn this language so you could learn and speak about us, so you could think and act like us, so you could be understood by us, so you could make profit for us. So you could serve us.” Serve us. Service.
But who is serving? Who is served?
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“In the ESF1 project, most studies of understanding have been linked to an awareness of, and concern for, the paradoxical situation that these learners have to cope with, namely,
that they have to learn in order to communicate,
whilst communicating in order to learn—
and this in a racist society.”
Bremer, Broeder, Roberts, Simonot and Vasseur (1993, p. 154; as cited in Norton, 2013, p. 76)
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How can I answer, “Who am I?”
If my language teacher doesn’t also ask “why?”
How can I answer, “Who am I?”
If my neighbours keep it to “Bonjour/Hi?”
For I am who I was and will be:
I am as much Tagalog, “Kamusta?!”,
As I am English and French—“Hello! Comment ça va ?”
How can I answer, “Who am I?”,
If my response isn’t voiced by I?
How do I learn a second language,
That does not bother to talk about my suitcases and my luggage?
Why would I learn a second language,
That considers my right to speak baggage?
My mother learned a second language to come here.
I told her I would need to learn another to go elsewhere.
I am learning three more letters—p, h, and d—to go further.
I hope I will be there with my three letters.
So, when I answer, “Who am I?”, my reply truly matters.
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Interlude: I often think about my identity as a Filipino-Canadian who, in the conditions of immigration, has become even more plurilingual: learning to speak English and French, Canada’s official—and colonial—languages. I think of new knowledges gained, of old knowledges lost…
“When the school is on the reserve, the child lives with its parents, who are savages, and though he may learn to read and write, his habits and training mode of thought are Indian. He is simply a savage who can read and write. It has been strongly impressed upon myself, as head of the Department, that Indian children should be withdrawn as much as possible from the parental influence, and the only way to do that would be to put them in central training industrial schools where they will acquire the habits and modes of thought of white men.”
John A. MacDonald (1983, as cited in Historica Canada, n.d., p. 2)
… I think just as often about my identity as an English language teacher. I wonder about the knowledges I teach, where they come from and to whom they belong. I think of my students’ right to talk, of their habits and modes of thought…
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Epilogue: Norton (2013) defines identity as the way that one sees themselves in relation to the world around them. Identity therefore is relational. It is co-constructed by the individual and other social actors around them, as well as by the larger, powerful social institutions and structures that permeate their world, and which sometimes impinge on the individual’s agency to (co)construct and enact their own identity. As such, identity is dynamic. It is adaptively (re)produced within and across time and space—within and across shifting worlds.
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Maraming salamat (thank you) for taking the time to partake with my thoughts. As an academic, it is often too easy for me to read an article or a chapter from our ever-expanding literature, cite a line or two, and then quickly move on. After all, there are more articles and chapters waiting to be read! The academic treads on, while the personal gets swamped in the tiny in-betweens of incessant reading. But in these cramped spaces exist the most opportune moments for self-reflection, if only we take the time to pause. Beyond gleaning what I’d need from Norton’s (2013) book for my dissertation’s literature review, allowing myself to be susceptible to that unexpected moment of reflexivity has helped me reaffirm why I think my research—my voice—matters, not only for my field, but more importantly, for myself. This process has helped me creatively articulate and exercise my right to talk.
And I, of course, would love to partake with your thoughts, and I invite you to a moment of self-reflection: as a (second) language teacher/researcher /learner/speaker, how do you understand and/or exercise your right to talk? How do you see and express your multifaceted self through and in your languages? How do you approach and enact language teaching/learning/research with speakers’ complex identities in mind?
The comment section vous attend (eagerly awaits)...
1 European Science Foundation; the ESF conducted an ambitious longitudinal study on second language acquisition among adults under the conditions of immigration.
Reference
Norton, B. (2013). Identity and language learning: Extending the conversation (2nd ed.). Multilingual Matters.
