December 2017 - Page 3 of 3 - Health Literacy Lab

Latinx?

Posted on December 2, 2017 by Public Linguist

This Post Was Written By
Vanessa Martinez

“Latinx?” (pronounced la-teen-ex) I said, confused, as I scrolled through my social media. I first came across the term about a year ago, in a post someone had shared congratulating her sister for being one of the first in the family to graduate from college. I was aware that it was meant to replace the a or o at the end of Latina/o, but I didn’t put much attention to it until recently when I ran into the word again. Although this time, it caught my intention because of the other hashtags (words starting or ending with the letter x) that followed: #Latinx, #Xicana/o, #Xicanx, #Xingona, especially the term Xicanx which is meant to replace the ch- and -a/o in chicana/o. I was overwhelmed with use of the letter x in these terms that I’ve always known as just “latino/a, chicana/o, and chingona.” So, I did a little research in regards to these labels and I came across articles talking about coming to terms with this word “latinx” and comments in the comment section of videos that weren’t so fond of the word at all or simply didn’t care.

Latinx is a gender-neutral alternative to Latino and Latina. Latinx is widely used amongst professors, activist and journalist. It’s part of a “linguistic revolution” that aims to move beyond gender binaries and is inclusive of the intersecting identities of Latin American descendants. It’s an attempt to include people who are trans, queer, agender, non-binary, gender non-conforming or gender fluid, so the ‘x’ serves as a way to reject the gendering of words, especially since spanish is such a gendered language. The term first surfaced within queer communities in 2004 but didn’t gained popularity until late 2014 in social media outlets such as Twitter and Tumblr. But despite the growing popularity of the term, Latinx has been faced with criticism.

Xicanx on the other hand, is a new term some Mexican-Americans have claimed that stems from the grassroots and working-class roots of the 1960s Chicano movement, but also incorporates indigenous consciousness, feminism, and queer theory in its politics. The Xs in this term is meant to replace the ch- and -a/o in chicana/o. Chicana/o is the English phonetic spelling of Xicana/o, which is the abbreviation of the word ‘Mexicana/o’ (a Nahuatl word, one of the most common indigenous languages spoken in Mexico). This prompted Chicano activist to use “x” in place of “ch” to spell the adjective as to honor its semantics: “Xicano.” And now as we can see, this has influence changes in other words of the Spanish language to do the same, like “Xingona” and even this one.

Photo is by Devyn Galindo from her book We Are Still Here, for those that might be interested to learn more about the Xicanx identity and movement

I can understand where it starts to get confusing, and even complicated (aside from how the way this new word “Latinx” feels on tongue) for some because for one, for those that are of latin descent and speak the Spanish language, just don’t think of gender when speaking it. For instance, when you say “un libro,” it doesn’t imply that the book is male. Or when a male walks into a room full of latina women, the wording now changes to a room full of latinos because there’s now multiple genders involved, that’s just how the language is structured. Another reason why it gets complicated is because how you say it in English sounds one way but in Spanish it would be said as “Latin-equis.” Same applies for all the other words of the Spanish language. For instance, granddaughter and grandson in Spanish is “nieta” and “nieto”, would that now have to be “nietx (niet-equis)?”

I think the main reason why the term has been so problematic for some is because it would mean that the entire language would have to change, taking gender out of it. Some have questioned if the word should still be used even when you’re definitively referring to a women. Why can’t that simply remain “Latina?” Will the change be sweeping across other romance languages, like French and Italian? After all they are gendered languages too. For others that oppose of the use of the term, feel that using an un-gendered noun like Latinx is disrespectful to the Spanish language and some have even called the term “a blatant form of linguistic imperialism.”

However, the Spanish language itself is a form of linguistic imperialism for Latin Americans. Before the colonial rule from the conquistadores, there were a few thousand indigenous languages that existed in the Americas. Today only a few hundred continue to be spoken (and even those are in danger of being extinct). Some of these indigenous languages that are still spoken throughout Latin America and the world, range from genderless to multi-gendered.
Maybe the Spanish language can be flexible like the other languages that are genderless. Maybe we can keep some words like “libro” because it’s referring to an object and not a person. Sure it can get confusing and complicated, I personally identify myself as Latina and will continue to do so but I understand the what the terms mean to others that identify themselves as such, Latinx or Xicanx. Like others that find no issue with the term Latinx, I’ll try to use the term whenever I’m referring to a larger group. As for the term “Xicanx,”which is pronounced the same as if you were to say “Chicanx,” I love the idea behind it. I personally have never identified myself as chicana, mainly because I didn’t grow up knowing the term – I’ve always identified myself as just Mexican or Mexican-American instead.

References:
https://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/why-people-are-using-the-term-latinx_us_57753328e4b0cc0fa136a159

http://www.refinery29.com/2017/03/147477/what-is-latinx

http://remezcla.com/features/culture/we-are-still-here-xicanx-book/

http://www.multiculturalfamilia.com/2012/03/19/hispanic-latino-chicano-mexica-the-origins-of-race-labels/

The Language of the Absurd in Politics: A Lesson from Eugene Ionesco

Posted on December 2, 2017 by Public Linguist

This Blog Was Written by
Dorian A. Pietraru

My greatest high school revelation was the discovery of Eugene Ionesco’ theatre. All of a sudden my life made sense. Ionesco’s absurdist view on society and human relationships helped me understand human nature, the fact that reason has also a dark, irrational component. I loved Ionesco’s dark humor, the metamorphoses of his characters, and his use of language that shows the gateway between reason and insanity. This was how teenage life was: a drift between extremes, rational choice embracing illogical decisions, and much more–a view over a fluid and unscrupulous society.
The world of Eugene Ionesco has come out in my mind every time I witness the present state of politics. I remember the first time when, with Ionesco in mind, I looked carefully at the language of last year’s American presidential debates. So many of us noticed the shift in language during the campaign. The candidates did not sound many times rational or respectful of their audience. The opponents harassed each other and the public. They repudiated conventions and norms. Much like teenagers, I thought, and much like Ionesco’s characters.

I remember Sarah Palin’s moment of endorsing candidate Donald Trump. From the beginning of the speech, Sarah Palin moved away from reason and arguments to emotions and multiple exclamations. Her theatrical performance asked the audience to participate fully. There’s an effusion of energy and emotions throughout the speech. The speaker’s enthusiasm for the cause elicits an immediate response from an approving audience. The quote below will give you a glimpse of how rhetoric pales when subordinated to an emotional appeal:

“Well, and then, funny, ha ha, not funny, but now, what they’re doing is wailing, “well, Trump and his, uh, uh, uh, Trumpeters, they’re not conservative enough.” Oh my goodness gracious. What the heck would the establishment know about conservatism? Tell me, is this conservative? GOP majorities handing over a blank check to fund Obamacare and Planned Parenthood and illegal immigration that competes for your jobs, and turning safety nets into hammocks, and all these new Democrat voters that are going to be coming on over border as we keep the borders open, and bequeathing our children millions in new debt, and refusing to fight back for our solvency, and our sovereignty, even though that’s why we elected them and sent them as a majority to DC. No! If they’re not willing to do that, then how are they to tell us that we’re not conservative enough in order to be able to make these changes in America that we know need to be…Now they’re concerned about this ideological purity? Give me a break!”

The speaker stresses a number of buzz words in her appeal to the audience: “conservatism”, “establishment”, “illegal immigration”, “Obamacare”, “Planned Parenthood”, “sovereignty”. Each time the Sarah Palin underscores these concepts, her public reacts loudly. There is no rational attempt to create cause and effect relationships with these notions. The speech throws away the constraints of rhetoric and finds its strength in an emotional delivery. The conventional beginning of the presentation (“Thank you very much. It’s so great to be here in Iowa”) gives way almost immediately to a fragmented delivery of messages in multiple directions; Palin talks to Trump, who’s on the stage, to members of the audience, and to the press, that is located “back there”. Palin’s stage performance enhances her language use to a point where rationality is abandoned in favor of a feeling for belonging. It is us against them, patriots against traitors, a very dramatic dichotomy.

It was indeed a Ionesco scene! Some background information about Eugene Ionesco, the classic of the absurd genre, is useful. Part of the French Avant-Garde theatre, Ionesco wrote about human condition trapped in a world that becomes unbearable. Normal communication becomes impossible when social alienation changes the world. As a response to vagaries of modernization and to the rise of hideous totalitarianism in Europe, Ionesco portrays individuals who see their own existence and history as irrelevant. Rules break into pieces, and dialogue (the backbone of theater) carries no constructive meaning at times. Twentieth Century is different in terms of history as well as in terms of artistic expression. Ionesco recognizes the importance of modernism in his work: “None of us would have written as we do without surrealism and dadaism. By liberating the language, those movements paved the way for us.”
Rhinoceros is the play about the end of the world as we know it. When radical change happens, no one recognizes it, no one questions it. People accept the unacceptable (the presence of rhinoceros) as a normal, yet annoying, fact. No one tries to ask the question: “What happened? Where do these animals come from?” Nobody asks the questions you would consider in a real situation.
The next step is the identification with rhinoceros. They are “us”. Mrs. Boef recognizes her husband as one of the rhinoceros, and takes him home. Characters get accustomed with the new order, and the few protests are dissipated quickly.
The metamorphosis becomes complete. We witness Jean, who turns into a rhinoceros, little by little, mainly through the power of his mind. A new doctrine comes out of this transformation. The absurd is creating its own rules: Jean says: “We’ve got to build our life on new foundations. We must get back to primeval integrity”. (Act II, Scene 2). And Jean again: “Humanism is all washed up.” Berenger, the one who seemed to be the outcast in the beginning of the pay, is the one to put up a fierce resistance to the new order: “Are you suggesting we replace our moral laws by the law of the jungle?” (Act II, Scene 2).
The relativity of viewpoint swallows characters one after another. People accept the abnormal situation. Dudard quotes from the Bible: “Judge not lest ye be judged” and “Who knows what is evil and what is good?” Characters find intellectual reasons to justify the absurd as an acceptable alternative.

We have seen dramatic changes in the way society conducts itself in the last years. The abnormal became norm in American politics. Absurd situations are legitimized and incorporated in rational discourses. Our president, Donald Trump, recognized the importance of transforming people into devotees, devoid of any critical perspective: “They say I have the most loyal people — did you ever see that? — where I could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot somebody, and I wouldn’t lose any voters,” Jenna Johnson, The Washington Post, January 23, 2016. Trump praises the complete transformation of the critical minds into unassertive supporters. The polarity between friends and enemies becomes fundamental. It is us against them: Americans vs. illegal immigrants; us vs. radical Muslims; us vs. ISIS; Trump vs. Washington establishment; Trump vs. “fake news media”. There is a strong and continuous effort to undermine the institutions of democracy and to “rhinocerize” them. Trump represents the hero of this effort, a kind of Berenger from the other side.
In Rhinoceros, Berenger is the only character who does not accept the change. For him, there are still standards and sides. He sees the enemy to human condition, something that is hidden and relative to all the other characters. He can still separate the good from the bad, the human from the inhuman. “We must attack the evil at the roots” and “The world is sick” (Act III, Scene 1). In the end, Berenger is left alone. Even Daisy, his love, is gone to join the herd. He sees the price he has to pay for being himself: “People who try to hang on to their individuality always come to a bad end”(Act III, Scene 1). Totalitarianism has created isolated individuals, unable to communicate. Some interpreters would say that this is just like the modern society, either capitalist or communist. There is no way out. Berenger vows to resist, but his solitude speaks about the failure of his determination.

Who is Berenger, the hero of resistance, in today’s society? Is he represented by a few critical voices in the Congress? Is he the independent media, derided by Trump as “fake news”? Or are these dissenters swamped by a sea of tolerance and acceptance?
Ionesco’s goal, according to many of his interpreters, was to create an artistic environment that describes how a political virus, which is Totalitarianism, is spreading inside a community and destroys the existing traditions. At first, becoming a Rhinoceros is unthinkable, an accident of nature. Little by little, the transformation is spreading and people starts to accept the inevitable and even doubt their own traditions and culture. There are relevant exceptions, of course. Berenger will not compromise and will laugh at his friends’ desire to justify and rationalize the change. Ionesco’s play is a grave artistic reminder that the totalitarian mind, either dressed as Communism or Fascism, can corrupt a democratic society if safeguards are not in place.
I want to look at this play in another way, different from the usual interpretation associated with Ionesco. In my view, the rhinoceros are the symbol of change and renewal. The old order can not hold the society in stable progress. There is a generational conflict. The established generation does not want to share the power with the young people who have different opinion about governance. The democratic process cannot bring people together at the table. There is no more room for negotiation. It is just ruthless competition for power.
The rhinoceros transition becomes an act of challenging the status quo. It is maybe a similar process that we witness in the political world. The established politicians are marginalized by ferocious minds who do not respect the rules of the political process. The rhinoceros are outsiders who play their last chance. They are desperate and motivated. They want to win and they win many times.
I also compare the rhinoceros to what I read about the French avant-garde theatre that Ionesco was an important part. The playwright and the writers of the absurd are the abnormal, the beast that threatens to destroy the carefully crafted post-war society, where all people play a role, but the rich and the powerful pull the strings. They are ignored and ridiculed in the beginning, when there are a few of them. Later on, when they reach fame and glory, the fans will try to reach them. They started as radicals and rebels, but they will also end on the pedestal as “sacred monsters”, glorified by their generation.
In my interpretation, the person who becomes a rhinoceros will not borrow actual physical rhinoceros characteristics. It will rather be a slight but progressive change in appearance, awareness, and mentality. In my mind this could be a metaphor representing the changes happening now in the world. I think our generation is very different from the 20th century. Everything is now quite different from what it was 10-20 years ago: the types of communication are different, the world is closer but split between the rich and poor. Democracy seems to shrink and give up, instead of expanding to other countries. Our planet is in turmoil and transition. Nothing remains the same, not even the weather. You cannot make sense of these changes using logic and rational presentations. You need the absurd.
Most interpreters will analyze Berenger as a hero, standing up to the totalitarian plague that destroys the traditional society. However, I see him more of a conservative. He doesn’t want to change and never will. He is afraid to take the challenge of a new world. He will not change things because he doesn’t adapt and doesn’t create a base of supporters. Berenger lives alone in the old world, as well as in the new world. His conservatism alienates him from his friends and co-workers. He is in fact the “rhinoceros”, the monster who does not see the new world and new ideas.
The standard interpretation of this play is that it is showing the degradation of meaning and communication in the modern society. This is the more universal meaning. The time specific elements that the play referred to is the French collaboration with the Nazi regime during World War 2. I have adopted a different general meaning, along the lines suggested by Joe Penhall in an article published in The Guardian. The critic said: “He (Ionesco) knew that the human race in general is illogical, often lacking sophistication, mostly badly educated, filled with bluster…” Ionesco’s unruly characters attack the standards of society: logic, family, friendship, authority, place of work, social conventions, including rules of conversation. Until there is nothing left but the beast of totalitarian mind.

Food for thought. What do you think?

● Who are the political heroes of our times?
● Can the theatre of the absurd offers us a way out of our political and cultural crisis?
● What are the chances of democracy and progress in the United States?

Sources

The Work of Eugene Ionesco

● Eugene Ionesco, The Rhinoceros and Other Plays, Translated by Derek Prouse, Grove Press, Inc, New York, 1960.

Studies and reviews

Penhall, Joe. “Ionesco’s Rhinoceros Is as Relevant as Ever.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 3 Oct. 2007, www.theguardian.com/stage/theatreblog/2007/oct/03/ionescosrhinocerosisasrele.

Guppy, Interviewed by Shusha. “Eugene Ionesco, The Art of Theater No. 6.” The Paris Review, 12 June 2017, www.theparisreview.org/interviews/2956/the-art-of-theater-no-6-eugene-ionesco.

Longo, Lisa. “The Politics of the Absurd.” The Huffington Post, TheHuffingtonPost.com, 24 Apr. 2016, www.huffingtonpost.com/lisa-longo/the-politic-of-the-absurd_b_9767318.html.

Blaine, Kyle. “So, Uh, Here’s The Full Text Of Sarah Palin’s Bizarre Trump Speech.” BuzzFeed, www.buzzfeed.com/kyleblaine/so-uh-heres-the-full-text-of-sarah-palins-bizarre-trump-spee?utm_term=.rymbm5W7M#.aeoeNZvDE.

Thompson, Mark. “From Trump to Brexit Rhetoric: How Today’s Politicians Have Got Away with Words.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 27 Aug. 2016, www.theguardian.com/books/2016/aug/27/from-trump-to-brexit-rhetoric-how-todays-politicians-have-got-away-with-words.

cbsnewswebextras. “Full Video: Sarah Palin Endorses Donald Trump.” YouTube, YouTube, 19 Jan. 2016, www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mvlm3LKSlpU.

Johnson, Jenna. “Donald Trump: They Say I Could ‘Shoot Somebody’ and Still Have Support.” The Washington Post, WP Company, 23 Jan. 2016, www.washingtonpost.com/news/post-politics/wp/2016/01/23/donald-trump-i-could-shoot-somebody-and-still-have-support/?utm_term=.a452762d584e.

Photo Credit: Dali With Rhinoceros, From Halsman/Dali Portfolio. Halsman, Philippe, 1956

Does a Rose in Another Language Smell Just as Sweet?

Posted on December 2, 2017 by Public Linguist

This Blog Was Written By
Raven Jared Janoski

Discovering the barrier between language and emotion: How does the way we speak influence the way we understand and think about emotion

As an English speaker I have always been under the impression that to speak the English language is to have a certain privilege. Next to Mandarin (native speakers: 1.2 billion) and Spanish (400 million), English is the third most common language spoken, with about 360 million native English speakers. In 2016-2017 I spent the year traveling through Europe, India, Guatemala and Mexico, and as an English speaker, I was hardly ever “inconvenienced” by not speaking the native language of whatever country I was in. English spreads far and wide, in total, nearly 1 billion people speak English either natively, as a second language, or as a foreign language. So wherever you may end up, most likely you’ll find someone who speaks English there. When it comes to communication with other people, to speak English is definitely an advantage, and to know only a little, can go a long way when out in the world. While this is true, to communicate with oneself is an entirely different terrain.

The Sapir-Whorf Hypothesis states that language influences the way that we think, and can even shape our culture, and worldly outlook. But it is also believed that language dictates the way we think, for instance: I wouldn’t know how to differentiate between red and vermillion if I did not know the word ‘vermillion’. While a debated topic, it is something to think about when contemplating how we interpret the world, and more specifically, how we interpret emotion. I will share with you an journey of emotion that I have embarked on, and two words that I have discovered this past year, words that I have helped me to classify emotions that I already had, but did not have the means to describe.

The first is “liget“. It is a word shared by the headhunting Ilongot people of the Philippines, and if you have read or listened to the NPR segment on this matter (Invisibilia: A Man Finds an Explosive Emotion Locked in a Word)**, you will understand the gravity of this word, and the pure emotion that is locked inside of it. This is where English has failed me, because we do not have such a word that reflects the emotion that anthropologists have come to define as “high voltage”. English’s reach, and its ability to allow me to communicate with the billion people who can speak and understand it, although bridges a gap in understanding one another, does nothing to help me to describe an emotion such as liget, and understand this emotion within myself. In the segment by NPR, the anthropologist Renato Rosaldo described that he initially believed liget to be an adjective for a person who was very productive or full of energy, but after the indigenous peoples described that they felt liget after the death of a beloved tribesman, he began to question this description. It was only after the death of his wife, Shelly, that he could fully grasp liget, and how the same electric feeling that could run through someone and give them the stamina to hunt and trek the forest with tact and energy, could also be the same as the electricity of pain, energy and frustration that one feels after the loss of a loved one.
After the death of my mother, I read this article and something clicked within me. I knew this word because I too had felt it, and it was nothing like the “stages of grief” that I was supposed to be experiencing. Liget allowed me to step into an emotion that I had, but had previously not been able to define. Liget allowed me to dissect more feelings that have no words in English, but I knew that I was experiencing. Liget helped me, like Renato Rolando, to heal and move forward.

After my experience with Liget, I felt a sort of weight lift from my chest, and I had a new idea of a destination to a place of stability and happiness, but I did not quite know how to get there. There were two experiences in my travels that allowed me to understand a new idea that I had been missing, a new concept of emotion locked in the English language, and a road map to this new place with a Danish word.
When I was travelling Europe, I got lost when I was in Hungary because I boarded the wrong train. When I disembarked I had no idea where I was or how I was supposed to get to my next destination. It was a particularly frigid October night and a sense of panic struck me while I walked though a town I didn’t recognize. Because I could communicate easily with English, I was able to ask for directions, and get another train the next morning. English allowed me to book a hotel room and a train ticket, it gave me a sense of security and calmness and a way out of my situation. On the train the next day however, I was struck with a feeling of such homesickness I had never felt. In the 12 hours I spent riding to Switzerland I began to think of where it was exactly I wanted to get to. I wanted to get to place of happiness in the wake of this tumultuous grief I was feeling. I couldn’t quite explain what it was, but in my sketchbook I drew the faces of loved ones, my favorite places, an especially comfy wingback chair in my room, a mug of hot tea, and other things that made me feel safe and warm, secure and happy. This was my destination, but there was still something missing that I could not describe.
Months later, I found myself on a white sandy beach in Mexico – I was having a conversation with a family member, discussing our shared grief, and I explained to her how I was feeling. I vocalized that I was happy, and I have wonderful moments of happiness, but for some reason something is missing, there is a big chunk of happiness missing, but I could not find the right words to describe it. That’s when I realized the distinction between happiness and joy. I had been feeling happy, but joy was still absent, and I was hell bent on finding it.

My destination had gotten slightly more clear since this discussion, but I still did not have a word that would encapsulate where I wanted to be, until I found hygge. Hygge, (pronounced hoo-ga) I discovered when reading The Little Book of Hygge: Danish Secrets to Happy Living, by Meik Wiking, who is the CEO of the Happiness Research Institute in Copenhagen, Denmark. This book opened my eyes to a wider state of mind when it comes to interpreting happiness, and would allow another piece of myself to fall back into place.
Hygge is similar to what Canadians refer to as “hominess”, “koselig” in Norway, and “gezelligeid” in The Netherlands. Hygge has allowed me to pinpoint my destination, and understand the place of joy I wanted to live in. It is a place that is family togetherness, the warmth of a fire, the feeling of a night of the first snow or when the first dots of fireflies light the air. Hygge is tactile in the aesthetic aspect; it is dark wood and old books as well as baking pies and building a fire in a wood stove. But Hygge is also emotional, it is the feeling of comfort and security and joy all wrapped up into one. What I came to discover, is that hygge is not just a word that describes comfort; it is a way of living. The Dutch have an entire culture formed around hygge, and have many variations of the word to describe different aspects of its meaning.

1. Hyggekrog- “A nook of a kitchen or living room where one can sit and have a hyggelig time.”*
2. Hyggebukser- “That one pair of pants you would never wear in public but are so comfortable that they are likely to be, secretly, your favorites.”*
3. Hyggestund- “A moment of hygge.”*
4. Hyggesnak- “Chitchat or cozy conversation that doesn’t touch on controversial issues.”*

The list goes on; hygge is such an important part of Danish culture, one that definitely shapes their worldview, and in the eyes of Meik Wiking, and many other Danes I’m sure, is essential to why they are considered the happiest people on earth.

Were Sapir and Whorf correct in their hypothesis? In my own personal experience I can say that the English language has helped and restricted me in many ways. While English has allowed me a key to communication, it has in some aspects created a deficit in understanding thoughts and emotions that are not described in my native language. In this sense, their hypothesis is right and wrong. Yes, English has shaped me, and contributes heavily to the culture I grew up in, but it did not restrict me from feeling liget or hygge, it just has not given me the words to describe these feelings. Words are powerful beings, and it is only right that they should be given this credit. It matters how we describe ourselves, our emotions, our ways of life, because it can shed light on our differences, but more importantly, in our similarities.

——-
** https://www.npr.org/sections/health-shots/2017/06/01/529876861/an-anthropologist-discovers-the-terrible-emotion-locked-in-a-word

* Wiking, Meik. The little book of hygge: Danish secrets to happy living. William Morrow, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers, 2017.