For my Indigenous Film and Literature Midterm, we were able to choose from a selection of topics/themes that correlated with readings and screenings from the first semester. I found that the articles and film that stood out to me the most was this intersectionality of self-identity, culture, and language. I decided to merge these ideas into an essay that covered two readings, ” Learning the Grammar of Animacy” by Robin Wall Kimmerer, “English Has Broken My Heart” by Alice Te Punga Somerville, and one short film, “Navajo Talking Picture” by Arlene Bowman. I was also able to connect personally to these themes as my grandparent’s first language is French and how as the generations have gone by, the number of family members who speak French has declined significantly. I enjoyed this project tremendously; I feel that these issues regarding cultural preservation and the internal battles Indigenous People have to face when it comes to identity in a modern world need to be acknowledged.
Relationships with Indigenous Languages: How to Maintain Cultural and Self-Identity in an “English-Washed” World?
The roles of language in Indigenous People’s lives are incredibly complex and significant in terms of their cultural survival. Within two key readings, Learning the Grammar of Animacy by Robin Wall Kimmerer, English Has Broken My Heart by Alice Te Punga Somerville, and one film screening, Navajo Talking Picture by Arlene Bowman, themes of self-identity, tradition, and heritage all connect in part to relationships with their native languages. There is also a feeling in these works that suggest an ever-growing internal battle between cultural preservation in younger generations and the societal pressures to become successful in an English-dominated world; I have also experienced this within my family’s heritage. Through the writings and film, we can start to uncover the layers language plays in Indigenous People’s world and expand our understanding of what it means to play an active role in one’s culture in a modern world.
Learning the Grammar of Animacy by Kimmerer explains the tremendous struggle that an Indigenous person like herself has to deal with in efforts to preserve her ancestral language. Kimmerer feels a sense of responsibility in keeping the Potawatomi language alive, and through her desire to simply learn the language, she encounters a whole new understanding of why she felt so disconnected from her ancestor’s way of life. The power of context, cultural values, and beliefs that are expressed through language can be missed if the language in and of itself is not understood. The futile struggle of knowing that she has no one to practice speaking to in her everyday life could become too discouraging. However, her Potawatomi language teacher reassures her and “thanks us every time a word is spoken—thanks us for breathing life into the language, even if we only speak a single word”(Kimmerer, 53). Kimmerer’s intentions were good, hoping to do her part to learn the language of Potawatomi, which was virtually wiped out due to settler colonialism and leaves only nine people in the world today who speak it fluently. Nevertheless, an essential point is revealed, which can be picked up within the previous quote, is that the language is alive. She realized the disconnect between herself and learning the language because she was so intuned with the way English is conceptualized that she was missing the cultural and more profound meaning behind this Indigenous language. The “…grammar of animacy”, as she described, is her way of reconnecting on a much deeper level with her language. Furthermore, she expresses that it “… could lead us to whole new ways of living in the world, other species a sovereign people, a world with a democracy of species, not a tyranny of one”(Kimmerer, 57-8). Through one experience, we see just how isolated and disconnected an individual could feel from something that so many of us take for granted, language.
The debate and questioning over employing the word “English” to describe an academic discipline can certainly be a part of the deep-seated complexities of language hierarchy and self-identity. In Sommerville’s article English Has Broken My Heart, she takes on this problem of an internal struggle between dedication to one’s heritage and values vs. the academic pursuits of a modern world and reaching success. As she speaks about her research and experiences with others on the subject of Māori language and culture, she questions if “every piece of writing in English by a Māori scholar (including this one) could (should?) have been a piece of scholarship written in te reo Māori, and so inadvertently contributes to the structural hierarchy of English over our own reo”( Somerville, 11-12). This point speaks directly to the grapple between exposure of works and the advancement of Indigenous academic pursuits, but at what sacrifices? Sommerville could have immersed herself in the culture, written only in te reo Māori, and felt like she empowered that aspect of her heritage, yet, only a fraction of people would understand her work. Although she “…will continue to be conflicted and sad about not speaking te reo Māori”(Somerville, 14), an essential takeaway is that the definition of a language and culture can be so personalized. Yes, she will feel as if she is not doing the absolute most to preserve and empower Mario, but she can combat that by not letting English, in a colonial sense, have so much power over her.
Arlene Bowman’s Navajo Talking Picture presents an example of how language can create a barrier between understanding important Indigenous values and ways of life. Bowman explains how she desperately wants “understanding between my grandmother, and myself, and myself and the Navajo”(Bowman). Her desire to learn about her grandmother’s lifestyle, values, and experiences, which she felt she missed out on not having grown up on the reservation, becomes a very arduous and challenging process. One obstacle that they both cannot get past is why her grandmother protests so extensively about her filming, and a significant aspect of this obstacle is that Bowman does not speak Navajo. Thus the two of them could barely communicate, and on levels that go much deeper than just language. Speaking Navajo while growing up would have given Bowman insight and understanding into these ancestral traditions that her grandmother speaks of that go against her eagerness to film. We cannot blame Bowman for not having access to the subtitles and traditions that come with knowing her native language; she explains how she left the reservation at only six years old. Her mother’s argument of how she “had a hard time learning English in boarding school”(Bowman ) and not wanting her children to face the same difficulties was essential to the choice she made. A common occurrence during the generational shift of moving into the “white man’s world,” whether voluntarily or intensely pressured by society, was this abandonment of native languages. Bowman’s mother’s sacrifice transcended far beyond just language and illustrates how complex the relationship between self-identity and cultural significance connects to the Navajo language. The societal pressures, especially in Bowman’s mother’s era, on speaking English to prove you are successful beyond the reservation is crucial to how this internal battle between preserving heritage and moving on into modern times can be so powerful. Accessing areas of society like education, finance, and just day-to-day life prevented the use of Navajo. It clearly stuck in Bowman’s mother’s mind that speaking Navajo would be a disadvantage to her children. Understanding the layers language has within Indigenous people’s lifestyles gives context to the seemingly unreconcilable differences in Bowman’s take on her movie and her grandmothers.
A personal aspect of “English-washing” and cultural preservation in my own life is in regards to my maternal grandparents. Coming from French Canadian heritage, both my grandparent’s first language is French; they were taught English once they began school. The cultural shift that took place for them, much like Arlene Bowman’s parents, was in the early 1960s once they had children. My mother is one of six children, and they all grew up with English as their first language, even though their parents continued to speak French frequently in the house. However, they never made a point to teach their children to be bilingual. Today, only two out of the six children speak French fluently, one due to marriage and another for business purposes. Then out of their sixteen grandchildren, including myself, only one or two are fluent French speakers. After reading the articles by Kimmerer and Sommerville and the movie by Arlene Bowman, I started to think about my own family’s cultural survival. One significant difference is that the French language is incredibly alive and well on a national and global scale, while Indigenous languages are not. Nonetheless, my own family’s shift towards embracing the English language so much that once my grandparents pass away, there will be almost no one in our family who can keep that French Canadian language and traditions alive, only proves how important it is for acknowledgment of the threatened Indigenous cultures.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, Alice Te Punga Somerville, and Arlene Bowman give us examples of the extraordinary interconnectedness between preserving increasingly diminishing Indigenous languages and their broader historical significance. From creating communities of shared heritage and values to the advocacy and awareness on a global scale, understanding the elements of language in the setting of an English-influenced world of academia illuminates the need for Indigenous leaders to be at the forefront of these conversations. Even in my family heritage, the dominance of the English language has led to the loss of our French Canadian language and cultural traditions and self-identification with the Acadian values. Whether articulated in academia or advocated for within popular culture, accentuating how language contributes to various elements of the human experience, cultural identity, and connections worldwide is necessary to safeguard Indigenous life.
Works Cited
Arlene Bowman, director. Navajo Talking Picture, 1985.
Alice Te Punga Somerville, “‘English Has Broken My Heart’ – E-Tangata.” E, 27 Feb. 2021, https://e-tangata.co.nz/comment-and-analysis/english-has-broken-my-heart/.
Robin Wall Kimmerer, “Planting Sweetgrass: Learning the Grammar of Animacy.” Braiding Sweetgrass, Tantor Media, Inc., 2016.