Language and heritage
Jian Ping
Jian Ping is author of “Mulberry Child: A Memoir of
China. “ For more information, visit www.moraquest.
com or www.mulberrychild.com. Jian Ping’s blog,
which she keeps with a couple of other authors, is at
www.smearedtype.com.
China. “ For more information, visit www.moraquest.
com or www.mulberrychild.com. Jian Ping’s blog,
which she keeps with a couple of other authors, is at
www.smearedtype.com.
| If you want to make a difference in the lives of our residents, visit our website to view and apply for our current openings. www.oakwoodvillage.net Oakwood Village is a Lutheran church-sponsored, not-for-profit, locally operated organization consisting of two continuing care retirement communities, Oakwood Village East and Oakwood Village West, in Madison, Wisconsin. EOE |
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I know we are living in a world that is becoming
increasingly global. The ease and speed of travel,
international trade, and modern technology are
linking people from all over the world closer and
faster than ever before. However, it is the beauty of
different languages and the wonder of cultural
heritage that make our life richer and more
interesting. Although different languages and
cultures create barriers for understanding and
communication, we can overcome the obstacles by
being open-minded and embracing them all.
I read that some scholars have been advocating a
universal language in an effort to fight the
dominance of any particular language, yet provide
one that will enable direct communication. I can't
imagine that will ever come true, and if so, how
much we will stand to lose—the loss of cultural
heritage and the humanity for us all.
increasingly global. The ease and speed of travel,
international trade, and modern technology are
linking people from all over the world closer and
faster than ever before. However, it is the beauty of
different languages and the wonder of cultural
heritage that make our life richer and more
interesting. Although different languages and
cultures create barriers for understanding and
communication, we can overcome the obstacles by
being open-minded and embracing them all.
I read that some scholars have been advocating a
universal language in an effort to fight the
dominance of any particular language, yet provide
one that will enable direct communication. I can't
imagine that will ever come true, and if so, how
much we will stand to lose—the loss of cultural
heritage and the humanity for us all.
It was only after my settling in the U.S. and starting to use English as the primary means of
communication did I realize the function of language was a lot more than it appeared to be.
Without a good command of a language, it would be very difficult to have a deep understanding
of the culture. For the same reason, cutting off from the environment where my native language
was spoken, I felt isolated from the Chinese culture I was brought up with.
I remember that upon arriving at a university in Ohio, I was shocked and embarrassed to
realize my inadequacy in English—I couldn't follow my professors' lectures. In an effort to catch
up, I shifted to speak, read, and write everything in English. At that difficult time, I often found
myself hungry for my native tongue and wanting to read a story in Chinese in which I could
appreciate the beauty of the words and the implied meanings between the lines. But studying
in a small college town where the only foreigners were international students, I suppressed
my desire and threw myself wholeheartedly into using English. I was keenly aware of a sense
of loss that kept lingering in my mind and poking at my heart.
I went to work in New York City after graduation and was amazed by the different languages I
heard every day in elevators, on subways, or simply out in the streets. I was charmed and
rejuvenated. I began to speak Chinese at home and was comforted by the warm, familiar
feeling it generated. However, when my daughter joined me from China at the age of four and a
communication did I realize the function of language was a lot more than it appeared to be.
Without a good command of a language, it would be very difficult to have a deep understanding
of the culture. For the same reason, cutting off from the environment where my native language
was spoken, I felt isolated from the Chinese culture I was brought up with.
I remember that upon arriving at a university in Ohio, I was shocked and embarrassed to
realize my inadequacy in English—I couldn't follow my professors' lectures. In an effort to catch
up, I shifted to speak, read, and write everything in English. At that difficult time, I often found
myself hungry for my native tongue and wanting to read a story in Chinese in which I could
appreciate the beauty of the words and the implied meanings between the lines. But studying
in a small college town where the only foreigners were international students, I suppressed
my desire and threw myself wholeheartedly into using English. I was keenly aware of a sense
of loss that kept lingering in my mind and poking at my heart.
I went to work in New York City after graduation and was amazed by the different languages I
heard every day in elevators, on subways, or simply out in the streets. I was charmed and
rejuvenated. I began to speak Chinese at home and was comforted by the warm, familiar
feeling it generated. However, when my daughter joined me from China at the age of four and a
By Jian Ping
I have always been intrigued by the sound of foreign languages. Spanish, Polish, Russian,
Korean, or languages that I couldn't even identify. I find them melodious and fascinating. Only
when I am in a situation when I need to know what is going on, do I find it alienating if I can't
understand the language being spoken. By the same token, if I want to keep a conversation
"private" in a public setting, I find that speaking a foreign language that people around me don't
understand can provide me with a shield. However, more important than a means of
communication, language to me is a link to one's motherland and heritage.
I must say that I was not aware of the impact of language as an effective endearing or
alienating vehicle until I came to the United State. Before then, the only language that I was
exposed to was Mandarin. My exposure to a foreign language, in particular, English, was
strictly limited to the classroom. Back then I regarded a foreign language like a novelty. I was
intrigued by its pronunciation and different writing system. I continued to study English on my
own even when my school dropped it from our curriculum.
I have always been intrigued by the sound of foreign languages. Spanish, Polish, Russian,
Korean, or languages that I couldn't even identify. I find them melodious and fascinating. Only
when I am in a situation when I need to know what is going on, do I find it alienating if I can't
understand the language being spoken. By the same token, if I want to keep a conversation
"private" in a public setting, I find that speaking a foreign language that people around me don't
understand can provide me with a shield. However, more important than a means of
communication, language to me is a link to one's motherland and heritage.
I must say that I was not aware of the impact of language as an effective endearing or
alienating vehicle until I came to the United State. Before then, the only language that I was
exposed to was Mandarin. My exposure to a foreign language, in particular, English, was
strictly limited to the classroom. Back then I regarded a foreign language like a novelty. I was
intrigued by its pronunciation and different writing system. I continued to study English on my
own even when my school dropped it from our curriculum.
| My daughter Lisa |
half and couldn't speak a word of English, I was worried about her. I didn't want her to be an alien among other children in
kindergarten, and have problems in school. I shifted back to speaking English at home, trying hard to expedite her process of
learning a foreign tongue. I didn't expect that in a few years, I would be worrying again, this time, from the other side of the
equation—I was faced with the reality that my daughter was forgetting her native tongue and lost all her interest in anything
Chinese.
Alarmed, I enrolled her in a Saturday Chinese school after we moved to Chicago when she was nine. She resisted, not
wanting to be different from other children and learn a difficult language that she hardly used. I pushed her and insisted that it
was important. Three years later, after hours of reluctant struggle and protest, I let her off the hook. She gave up the weekend
Chinese school. She was relieved, while I suffered a deep sense of failure. I anticipated that one day when she was mature
enough, she would regret not knowing Chinese and being able to appreciate the rich literature, philosophy, and the art of
calligraphy in their original forms.
As for myself, I continued to marvel at the subtleties and functions of languages in communication, in my case, English and
Chinese.
I was at a job in which I was the liaison between the U.S. company I worked for and the Company's Chinese supplier. I found
being bi-lingual was a huge advantage. It not only allowed me to understand the statements made by both parties, but also
the meaning between the lines and the way they expressed themselves, for the use of language was largely dictated by its
culture. For instance, instead of giving a straightforward "no" to certain issues at a negotiation, the Chinese party tended to say
"We'll think about it." To Chinese, in most cases, it was a polite way of rejection. But to Americans, they took the answer literally
and expected to hear the results of further consideration. They were puzzled, if not baffled, when the issue was never
mentioned again. Knowing both languages gives me the edge of immersing in both cultures and therefore, bridging the
differences.
Then, to my surprise, when I decided to write a book for my daughter, telling her about my childhood and the hardship I
endured, I found it hard to write in Chinese.
I grew up in China during a time of political persecution and turmoil, especially the ten-year Cultural Revolution. The
experiences my family, and for that matter, many families in China, went through was quite devastating and painful. To this
day, not many people are willing to recall the happenings of that period. Since my daughter couldn't read Chinese, I wrote the
book Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China in English. I never expected that writing in English would give me the freedom of
expression that I had never dreamed of before. Thinking back, I realize that I would not have been able to write the book in
Chinese at all—not in the tone and expressions that I used, immediate but calm, as if I were telling someone else's story. The
foreign language created a buffer, a distance that made it safe. Years of suffering during the 60's and 70's and the hush over
the turmoil and political persecution would have prohibited me from getting into details in Chinese, especially when it came to
expressing my feelings and emotions. But English, the foreign language, freed me from all the political and cultural taboos
and prohibitions.
More than a decade has passed since my losing battle with my daughter to study Chinese. As I had expected, she took more
interest in China and the Chinese language after she graduated from college. When she started working, she initiated taking
Chinese tutoring lessons and even expressed interest in working in China for an extended period of time.
"I told you so," I couldn't help myself from teasing her. Learning Chinese as an adult is so much more difficult than learning it
as a child.
"Mom, it has to come from me," she said, showing no regret at all.
I didn't know what the trigger was that made the "come from me" become reality for her. But I was thrilled, no matter what level
of Chinese she could manage to master. The mere interest she showed in her culture of origin and heritage delighted me.
kindergarten, and have problems in school. I shifted back to speaking English at home, trying hard to expedite her process of
learning a foreign tongue. I didn't expect that in a few years, I would be worrying again, this time, from the other side of the
equation—I was faced with the reality that my daughter was forgetting her native tongue and lost all her interest in anything
Chinese.
Alarmed, I enrolled her in a Saturday Chinese school after we moved to Chicago when she was nine. She resisted, not
wanting to be different from other children and learn a difficult language that she hardly used. I pushed her and insisted that it
was important. Three years later, after hours of reluctant struggle and protest, I let her off the hook. She gave up the weekend
Chinese school. She was relieved, while I suffered a deep sense of failure. I anticipated that one day when she was mature
enough, she would regret not knowing Chinese and being able to appreciate the rich literature, philosophy, and the art of
calligraphy in their original forms.
As for myself, I continued to marvel at the subtleties and functions of languages in communication, in my case, English and
Chinese.
I was at a job in which I was the liaison between the U.S. company I worked for and the Company's Chinese supplier. I found
being bi-lingual was a huge advantage. It not only allowed me to understand the statements made by both parties, but also
the meaning between the lines and the way they expressed themselves, for the use of language was largely dictated by its
culture. For instance, instead of giving a straightforward "no" to certain issues at a negotiation, the Chinese party tended to say
"We'll think about it." To Chinese, in most cases, it was a polite way of rejection. But to Americans, they took the answer literally
and expected to hear the results of further consideration. They were puzzled, if not baffled, when the issue was never
mentioned again. Knowing both languages gives me the edge of immersing in both cultures and therefore, bridging the
differences.
Then, to my surprise, when I decided to write a book for my daughter, telling her about my childhood and the hardship I
endured, I found it hard to write in Chinese.
I grew up in China during a time of political persecution and turmoil, especially the ten-year Cultural Revolution. The
experiences my family, and for that matter, many families in China, went through was quite devastating and painful. To this
day, not many people are willing to recall the happenings of that period. Since my daughter couldn't read Chinese, I wrote the
book Mulberry Child: A Memoir of China in English. I never expected that writing in English would give me the freedom of
expression that I had never dreamed of before. Thinking back, I realize that I would not have been able to write the book in
Chinese at all—not in the tone and expressions that I used, immediate but calm, as if I were telling someone else's story. The
foreign language created a buffer, a distance that made it safe. Years of suffering during the 60's and 70's and the hush over
the turmoil and political persecution would have prohibited me from getting into details in Chinese, especially when it came to
expressing my feelings and emotions. But English, the foreign language, freed me from all the political and cultural taboos
and prohibitions.
More than a decade has passed since my losing battle with my daughter to study Chinese. As I had expected, she took more
interest in China and the Chinese language after she graduated from college. When she started working, she initiated taking
Chinese tutoring lessons and even expressed interest in working in China for an extended period of time.
"I told you so," I couldn't help myself from teasing her. Learning Chinese as an adult is so much more difficult than learning it
as a child.
"Mom, it has to come from me," she said, showing no regret at all.
I didn't know what the trigger was that made the "come from me" become reality for her. But I was thrilled, no matter what level
of Chinese she could manage to master. The mere interest she showed in her culture of origin and heritage delighted me.