August 7, 2007

language of one

I am a derivative of both my parents. Part of my name, "Anh", is derived from my father's first name. Part of my name is taken from my mother's first name. In fact, all three children have "anh" in our names. Although my parents wanted to highlight their union through the naming of their three kids, "anh" also has several definitions in Vietnamese and in Chinese. In fact, some of them rather grand. However, in light of a conversation I had on IM with a good friend yesterday, I want to think about only one definition of "anh".

In Vietnamese, there is no "I". There are multiple terms used in the 1st person singular: toi, tao, tui, minh, and in other regions and dialects, I'm guessing there are others. They can all be used in place of the "I."

Additionally, other terms can also be used in place of "I" (such as em, anh, chi, co, ba, chu, ong, v.v.) even though in other contexts they would actually carry other definitions. Given the nature of these pronouns, we always identify ourselves within a larger social order, a greater power dynamic -- there are gradients of who belongs where depending on the term you use.

For example, when I'm speaking to my sister (she's older so she is "chi" or "che"), I refer to myself as "em." When speaking to my younger brother, I in turn am "chi" or "che che". Speaking to my parents, "con". Speaking to my grandparents or aunts/uncles or those of their age ranges: "chau". Speaking to my cousins' children, I become "co" (on paternal family side) or "di" (on maternal family side).

And, if we add birth order to these terms, they'll identify exactly where I am (mom's side, dad's side; 2nd or 3rd child, etc.). For example, "Chi 3" means I am second born. My sister is firstborn so she is Chi 2 (the numbering is off, I know, but that'll be explained some other time).

The joke in my family is that even though we all have "anh" in our names, none of us are older brothers. Because, in fact, "anh" means older brother, whether or not that person is your familial brother. Everyone wants to be "anh" and no one wants to be "em". Haha.

So if I had an older brother, I would call him Anh. But if your regular Joe off the streets is older than me, I would call him Anh if I were to be courteous and socially polite (unless, of course, his age places him in the range of "Chu" or "Ong" or "Cu").

In Chuyen Kieu, Nguyen Du speaks of Kieu's "than phan" as a woman, and no matter her age, as a woman, she will always be "em" -- that is, she will always call her husband "anh". The usage of such a term places her in a particular position of respect, a particular status and rank. She is, always, "em", and by connotation, younger, less experienced, weaker. For some, that terminology perpetuates a linguistics system of subservience and deference.

All this semi-deconstruction of "anh" is nothing new, and though I try to think about these things from different perspectives, I always end up arguing for one side only, regardless of the complexity. In the conversation I had with my friend, we talked about the power dynamics of linguistics. Actually, we didn't really talk about linguistics, but the gist of the conversation touched upon issues of gender equality, language, power hierarchies and evaluative systems of naming. In the end, what my friend said was this: what does it matter what you call one another as long as you sincerely show respect and honor for that person.

Whether I call him "anh" or "em" or "mi" or "minh", it's what is embedded in the intent and intonation of the words. The language used by one for another is weighted in the meaning behind the words.

2 comments:

ashley said...

That is really interesting, HAT. We snobbish English-speakers assume everything translates directly into another language. I never thought about there not being a word for "I" in other languages. Great post.

hat said...

Do you remember the scene in the garden in Jane Eyre? It's the quintessential moment when she declares her equality with Rochester, despite their differences in age, rank, class, gender, etc. The irony is that their loving relationship blossoms into the opposite of equanimity and equality; in fact, she is the vine and he is the oak, she is the wife and he is the master.

In scene, she uses the English "I" which, language wise, identifies her as his equal -- just as strong, independent, resolute. If it had been written in Vietnamese (as it has been translated into), the scene would have been played using "em" and "anh" and would have more accurately reflected their positions.