We all have our own versions of rebellion. Some of us rebelled against our parents; some of us will rebel against society’s norms until the end of our days. In each of these rebellions, there is a conscious choice to push against the grain. Something doesn’t feel quite right about following the rules the way they have been laid out.
Rebellion occurs because something deep inside requires us to look at the situation from a different perspective. This feeling demands that we find our own way, and maybe even try to convince others that we’re on to something.
So what about rebellions against language? Have you been subversive about syntax or pronunciation? Have you ever questioned your grammar to the point you realized that using a certain pronoun was a complete contradiction of your values? I’m searching for stories of linguistic rebellion. This could be with the languages you grew up with, or the languages you adopted later in life. To give you an idea, I’ll share two of my rebel stories.
Like many other bloggers posting in the last few weeks, I responded to the “11 things about you” challenge. One part of the challenge asks that you share 11 random facts about yourself. This is one of the facts I chose:
In 5th grade, I had my first run-in with linguistic rebellion. For French class we had to write a diary and hand it in to our teacher. In French, diary (journal) carries the masculine form and so you should address it, “Dear diary” with its rightful masculine greeting, “Cher journal.” This made no sense to me. There was no way I would share my deep thoughts with a male journal, and so I addressed it as, “Chère journal.” When my teacher approached me about the grammatical error, I had my theory to back it up. He didn’t buy it.
I shared this because I was writing to an audience of language learners and teachers, and I thought it might be interesting to them. I also shared it because it’s one of my favourite pre-teen rebellion stories. I know. I was a wild child.
As the week went on, this little fact kept popping up in my thoughts, particularly the first sentence:
In the 5th grade, I had my first run-in with linguistic rebellion.
I wrote this so confidently, but reading it again, I was forced to ask myself:
Weren’t there other run-ins? And was this really my first story?
The resounding answer was that yes there were other moments, and no this wasn’t my first. I have a strong memory of my mother trying to correct the way I said the number one in french — un — when I counted: un, deux, trois…. I think I was between 5 – 7 years old. In our Acadian dialect, un sounds like yeon. My mother wanted me to learn the standard way to pronounce one, but I didn’t like the way it made me feel. It felt too unfamiliar. Yeon felt right, so I refused to use the standard pronunciation. Looking back, maybe I was actually trying to conform here. Everyone else in the neighbourhood used yeon, why should I stand out? This was clearly a case of early parental linguistic-rebellion.
I have other stories, but I’d like to hear more about yours. What’s your story of linguistic rebellion?
*Here are a few fantastic blog posts in response to my question: