Language is a powerful tool. It guides and informs us. Knowing the local language helps immensely, while not knowing it can make life difficult. Language connects us.
I like to believe I’m bilingual, but my Vietnamese language skills are woefully lacking. I spoke VN at home when I was young and it’s the primary language I speak with my mom, whose English is fairly basic. Unfortunately, my VN vocabulary is very limited, so there’s a lot I want to convey to my mom that I cannot. Over the years, this has turned into a barrier between us, and that makes me sad when I think about it.
My older son and I play the New York Times’ Spelling Bee and Wordle games together. We compare words that we’ve come up with for the former, and challenge one another with our efforts at the latter. It brings us together and is a moment each day we enjoy through our shared language. It also sets us up for discourse about music, friendships, and any other topics on his mind. This bond is what I wanted with my mom, and I have a chance now to build it with my son.
I taught him a few VN phrases, like “hi, Grandma” and the VN phrase akin to “bon appétit”. He makes use of them. It’s not much, but it ties him to our VN roots.
He’s now learning Spanish, which was the language I studied in high school and college. I hope we can both one day also bond over shared experiences in Spanish. It can be our secret language when we don’t want my husband or other son to know what we’re talking about. 🤫
For those of you who grew up in a bilingual or multilingual home, what have your experiences been? How have they shaped your current relationships?
