Taiwan immersion

Originally published in University of Delaware's The Review

In today’s world, modernity is Western conformity. English-language signs not only give an air of sophistication but lure that all-elusive “cosmopolitan” moniker that brings economic power to regions with less powerful tongues. Such is the sheer might of Anglo-linguistic dominance that even languages previously backed by equally unrelenting colonial empires perceive their tongues as unbefit of developing homegrown expressions for the words “email” and “awkward.” Much less fortunate idioms relentlessly fight for the survival of even basic indigenous pleasantries, while others ultimately are mourned and wept over without fanfare, casualties of conformism.

This has never sat well with me. Of course, I am jealous of the pure depth of linguistic immersion a foreigner may have in a country like the U.S., where a monolingual population dictates global standard speech. But passion for foreign languages isn’t my only gripe. Why should I sit idly by as a linguistic wrecking ball menaces languages not backed by a military larger than the population of Cyprus?

I’ve started to wage my own personal war against the tide of Anglicization. My Tinder bio includes a clause in Chinese that states I won’t respond in English. I’ve simply become accustomed to pretending not to speak English while abroad, creating my own immersion in a world where others would be happy to speak English. In languages where an English loan word is sometimes used in place of a local equivalent, I pointedly avoid the English one, despite sounding unnatural and forced.

It is certainly important to note that my frustration does not exist in a vacuum. The domination of English is a system deeply rooted in colonialism (original and neo-variants) that I have benefited from as an American. Perhaps it’s a bit pretentious of me, or even problematic, that I get frustrated with people for speaking English to me.

To my newly met Taiwanese friends who put up with my stubborn linguistic demands, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for one of the most immersive experiences I’ve ever had.

As words I had learned orally just a few hours earlier reached foreign ears, I felt my brain’s linguistic progress bar inching along, as if language was software you could download through the power of conversation. The feeling of language exhaustion, of being absolutely incapable of expressing some concept, of coming to resent the simple, rough-in-meaning grammatical structures I had no choice but to employ, was oddly liberating.

I finally managed it. If only for three fleeting days, I was the leader of my own little homegrown oral rebellion. Guiltily confident Anglo articulation was forced to give way; it was an act of powerful, stubborn resistance, going against a linguistic tide to force a non-lingua-franca’s syntax to dig its way into my gray matter, forming its own bonds.

It tasted like freedom, and I want more.