Fall Essay Contest

 

Fall Essay Contest

"To have another language is to possess another soul"(Charlemagne). How many times have you had someone walk up to you and ask you where you were from because you looked different or had an accent? You know those "where are you really from?" questions? You can't keep count, can you? Being of a different background than everyone else makes you feel alien. My name is Tyra. I hail from Liberia, West Africa, a small country that retains the looks of a shoe on the map. In Liberia, the official language is English, however like most places, we have a local language that we call koloquah (a mixture of broken English, slangs, and one of those stereotypical accents). It is also encouraged that students study French beginning in elementary school, so like most students in my school, I took French when I started 5th grade, and stuck with it for 5 years.

I moved to the United States in 2014, one of Liberia's hardest years. My country was plagued by Ebola, an outbreak that not only claimed many lives, but also brought about socioeconomic issues. Upon arrival to the U. S, I had high hopes of fitting right in because prior to my move, I was one of the lucky ones in Liberia. I had two working class parents, an above average life, and I attended one of the most prestigious schools in Liberia; an all-girls Catholic school known as St. Theresa Convent. However, that was not the case. I was 13 years old, wise beyond my years and a high school sophomore (rough, huh?). Coming from an educational background as I did, I could easily mimic my peers' American accents, but there was something wrong with me according to them; my accent. For them, my accent became a Saturday morning cartoon. It tried desperately to coil into a language that was alien to it. Trying to transform into something powerful enough to save everyone from the alien that was me, and the shame that comes with being made to feel different became an impossible exploit. School of course felt like eating at a table bearing no welcome. No one wanted to talk to the kid who recently moved from an Ebola plagued country, the one they thought could not speak or understand English, or the one with an accent. Like most immigrants, I thought the first thing I had to do to fit in was to lose my accent. So, figuratively, I stripped myself of my accent, cut it into pieces and I salted its savory wounds until I could no longer taste it. I became depressed, my family told me I was changing, and I hated it. So, I had to go on another journey to find myself. I found my accent buried deep inside of me, my second language (koloquah) deprived of water and oxygen. I picked it up, brushed it, and started to embrace who and what it makes me.

Having a second language or an accent is a transcending force. Not only does this skill strengthen your brain, it opens doors to more opportunities. Immigration helps a country contrary to popular belief. The most basic rationale: it increases diversity through color, culture, and language. Bilingualism especially has other benefits according to studies: it increases perceptive, multitasking, improves English skills, decision making, and many more. For someone who wants to go into the medical field, being bilingual gives me an edge. In my Anthropology class this year, we read the iconic book by Anne Fadiman, The Spirit Catches You and You Fall Down. The book highlights themes of incompetence that was present in the medical field during the 80s and 90s when it came to language diversity and cultural diversity. Throughout, lessons on what common miscommunications due to language barriers can do are put forward. As I begin to study towards my career, my hope is that my bilingualism will help to expose me to different people of the world, and to establish better professional as well as social relationships with them. My plan is to visit my home within the next year, and possibly begin to expand my French horizons.