My roommate Melanie and I usually talk for a while after dinner each night, just sitting up in the kitchen and chatting. One night she mentioned something that I hadn’t thought of.
“You know, how the language changes you,” she said. “Like how you become someone else when you use it.”
“What? That doesn’t happen to me.” I was defensive. I’m not faking who I am when I use French, I thought. “Does that happen to you?”
“Yeah, I think it does. Just watch yourself for a while, see if you’re different in each language.”
I kind-of didn’t want to listen to that, because through all of this language learning, even since I started college, I knew I wanted to express myself, not just parrot sounds. Surely I am the same person in English and French. Surely.
So I did watch myself, on and off. Mostly what happened is I caught myself using gestures where and when I’d never used gestures before; interrupting and running over in spaces where I never would in an American classroom; altering my interpersonal relations subconsciously to fit the words I needed more. I found myself being a different person.
In French, I think, I am more dismissive. I swear a lot, also, sorry about that, because I am mimicking the world around me and the French swear. My voice is higher-pitched and I lean in more. I speak in absolutes and entireties, I require more explanation, and I don’t let things rest. I talk, out loud, to myself in French. I cover my mouth when I laugh.
I’ll be back soon. Can’t wait to be Tennessean again.
Cordialement,
Allison
P.S.: Go watch the movie Arrival.
Flan in France 