LAN GUAGE AND PRIVI LEGE

Mykolas Kumpis // senior // personal essay

Americans love talking about privilege. Truth be told, privileged Americans love talking about privilege. That’s not the important part, however. The important part is how they talk about it. They use English.

I was born in Lithuania, and, until my eventual emigration to these United States, I spoke exclusively Lithuanian. When I ended up in Columbia, South Carolina, learning English became a top priority. I was five or six, and, as is generally the case with linguistic education for young kids, it went quickly. A few months of learning in my daycare yielded a yapping mess that hasn’t shut up since.

My parents weren’t so fortunate. They didn’t get an easy bypass, a ‘skip forward through time’ button they could press and gain fluency. When I lived with her, my mom would always ask me how to pronounce, “McFlurry”– a favorite of my sisters – as we were pulling into the McDonald’s drive-through. I remember hearing her repeat the name under her breath as we inched closer and closer to the microphone.

“MucFlurry. MucFlorry. Muh- MucFlurry. MikFlurry. Mik. Flurry. MucFlurry.”

She was the luckier one.

Dad never worked in a university like Mom. Dad never worked in a job where his English skills would be pushed to the limits every minute. He was at home taking care of three kids where his English skills only needed to meet bare minimums. He tried his best to learn; he’s always been a huge reader, a big movie guy, and learned a lot as the years went on. However, it was never enough.

He still asks me about pronunciation constantly.

“Am- am I saying that correctly?”

He still says words in funny ways. Funny enough to make me laugh. Laugh enough that he notices. Notices enough that he starts laughing too. Starts laughing enough to make me stop and think for a moment. Stop and think enough to feel a strange, choking discomfort with my amusement at his struggle. Discomfort big enough that he notices.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I’m still working on it.”

He still has me check some of his emails.

“And this sentence, correct? And this one?”

He still apologizes to everyone he talks to in public.

“I’m sorry, my English not so good.”

I know people probably don’t give a second thought to the language they use to think, or use with their neighbor, or fill out important paperwork in, or will use in college, or in their future careers, or on their deathbeds hoping someone will understand them.

Who are we if we aren’t understood? How real are our experiences, emotions, thoughts, and feelings if there’s no one there to share them with? A person can look just like you, dress just like you, drive the same car as you, but a disconnect between languages will remain regardless.

Language is a horrifyingly invisible barrier for millions of people in this country. However, it’s scarily easy to forget those who aren’t even involved in the discussion. Many aren’t privileged enough to have the proper English skills to talk about the struggles and difficulties they face on a daily basis. collage

Contrastingly, I’m one of the privileged people. I got my aforementioned ‘skip button’. I try my best to make up for that. My parents did their damnedest to get me in this country so I could learn all I’ve learned, tell all I want to tell, and share all I want to share. I try my best to help them get the tools necessary to do the same. I thank god every day for the ability to speak intelligibly when and how I want. It’s an unbelievable privilege I have that I wouldn’t give up for anything.

Speaking Lithuanian isn’t too bad either!

Londyn Emory // senior Edge