Language and Identity - A Memoir

I remember arriving in Canada after living my whole life in the Netherlands. It wasn’t unfamiliar as we went there every summer. This time however was different, just six months ago I had turned twelve and the prospect of moving to a different country was quite scary.  It was soon to be a reality.  As a child my parents always talked about moving back to the small town outside of Vancouver where they came from, but I never truly believed it until we packed up our stuff, got on an airplane and stayed. When I moved to Canada I found it very difficult. Since we hadn’t found a proper house yet, we moved into a small two bedroom apartment in the middle of a drug-infested neighbourhood called Langley City. I can’t emphasize enough how much that sucked. Being cramped into a tiny room with my little brother that just fit a bunkbed was difficult enough.  We were just settling in and I had no space to myself. 

My parents had enrolled us two kids in a private school and it was quite a different atmosphere from what we were used to in Holland. All the teachers were quite a bit nicer, and I very quickly learnt that my use of language was considered too harsh for the Canadians. Entering into grade six felt like going back to grade one. To this day I can’t tell you what a verb is in English. The Dutch accent on my English was so strong that some of my non-Dutch speaking family members didn’t know what I was saying. I only learnt how to speak English from my mom and I had never taken an English class in my life. All those years in Canada I struggled intensely. From not being able to speak the language, to cultural differences, I never truly felt like I fit in. But by the time I lost my Dutch accent and was able to decently write an essay, I did manage to make some friends.

 Even though I was only twelve, apparently I offended quite a lot of people in the first year. In the Dutch culture we were always taught to be straightforward with our thinking and our language use. To always say what we were thinking, even to our elders was normal. People in The Netherlands aren’t as easily offended and my word use clashed with the Canadian philosophy. As a result I came into conflict with almost all of my teachers. What I considered “feedback”, they considered “backtalk”. This went on for about a year until one day I was complaining to a friend about how much all my teachers disliked me. I was shocked when she said “Milly, the way you act towards the teachers is very rude”, I was shocked. For the first time I realized that I had been using the Dutch way of speaking in English.  

Our use of language is such an important part of our identity and how people perceive us. Now living in the UAE, language plays an important role. Everyday I encounter people from a different place, different culture and with different language habits. My language experience has taught me to be more patient when listening. To look for the intent behind what the person is saying rather than the actual words being used. I never meant anything bad or rude when I first spoke English in Canada. My intentions were always good.  In the same way when I hear someone speak imperfect or heavily accented English I listen to the words but even more to the intent behind the words and almost always realize that people try to communicate sincerely. The words sometimes get in the way.