Lost in Translation: Code-Switching
When our tongue adapts to those around us.
Switching from languages, accents, dialects, or creoles, often feels like switching personhoods. So, what does it mean to code-switch and how does it feel? Here are four stories that capture the essence of code-switching.
Zainab Hassan: A mosaic of my travels
After spending about three weeks in Lahore, I spent the first 48-hours back in Canada re-adjusting my English.
I’ve always had a difficult time with code switching. Having lived in three different countries, I’ve found accents to be accessories I put on and pull off like a one man show on a theatre stage. Slang, phrases, and expressions are my equivalent of Pokemon; added into a rolodex as I attempt to imitate them all. Even now, I sharpen the ‘t’ in “water,” a habit from British secondary school, though it seems to disappear in the middle of “Toronto.”
After spending time back home, words taste different: heavy and sweet on my tongue like halwa, my voice settled low and warm in my throat. Back in Canada I make my voice hike its way up, speaking crisp and sharp like the winter air. I pause in between words the way the sky pauses between flurries, layering them into sentences like the snow on the ground, as light and airy as the flakes. I stop myself from relying on onomatopoeia to relay my feelings and intentions, switching from comic panels to prose as I articulate in paragraphs instead.
I have always found codeswitching to be more about habit than anything else. People sometimes argue that it presents an inauthentic version of themselves, but I disagree. The same way our habits change when we’re alone versus when we’re with our friends versus when we’re with our family, I codeswitch in different contexts. But it’s all still me, a mosaic of everywhere I’ve been and everyone I meet.
April Roy: Vernacular controls personality
I may not be the only one who notices that different group chats look different based on how I text. It doesn’t have much to do with my texting style—which is usually a cross of informal and formal—but the side of myself I bring forth to the friendship. What side that is depends on my connection to the friend and what I know them to most value in a friendship.
With friends who value deep connection and conversation, I am more likely to text them in a more formal, put-together kind of way; longer and less on-a-whim texts on my end. Other friends value humour and lighter conversations. With those chats, I depend on emoji reactions, text shorter messages, and send a lot of reels. Even though it can be difficult to find a friendship where you feel comfortable to bring forth every side of yourself, I tend to have a higher social battery with texting than in-person conversations.
I’ve always been more introverted in-person, so I often rely on formal social scripts that can help me get through conversations. At my cashier job, I heavily rely on a script, since I’m not always as comfortable going off on tangents with customers.
Either way, I have found that a lot of how these shifts in vernaculars come about has to do with first impressions. These impressions ground me in speaking and acting in certain ways with certain people. It’s both a blessing and a curse because it helps me gain a sense of comfortability with others, but it can also hold me back from growing and evolving socially.
Rebecca Christopher: Code-switching is communicating
I was born in Tamil Nadu, India, but I have lived in 3 countries: India until I was 13, Qatar until I was 18, and now, I’m in Canada. Throughout the years, I have not only picked up on the local languages, but the manner of speaking too. I have become efficient at code-switching.
In India, I used to mix English with Tamil words depending on the circumstances. Tamil snuck into shorter phrases, responses like illai ( no/nothing) and cheri (okay). In Qatar, I slipped British exclamations like oh my days when chatting with my friends from the UK at our British school and I still retain the accent from those years. Many older people would greet me in Arabic with salam alaikum (peace be upon you) and I would respond with wa’alaikum assalam (and peace be upon you, too). I haven’t been in Canada long but I often use old-fashioned phrases for fun. Exclamations like good grief! and what in the tarnation! add a droll punch to my conversations and always get a laugh out of my friends.
But, code-switching can be a burden. It can pressure people into certain constrained behaviours to please others. They also empower some groups and marginalize others which creates a power imbalance.
In hindsight, however, moments of code switching helped me ground myself in different situations, allowing me to connect with others instead of isolating myself. Ultimately, it makes communication the fulfilling human expression that it is, in all parts of the globe.
Madhav Ajayamohan: Code-meshing languages
Sometimes, I feel like there are two versions of me. One version speaks English. He’s polite, quiet, and, I daresay, well-spoken. A little introverted perhaps. He dreams my most vivid dreams and processes my most calculated thoughts. The second version speaks Malayalam. He’s not quite so eloquent. But he’s sociable and friendly. At times, he’s even funny. When I imagine a friendly conversation, with sarcasm and passion, I imagine it as him.
When I switch between languages, from Malayalee to non-Malayalee, I shift between these versions. As I shift from one language to another, it feels like who I am changes.
When I speak English, I am a consummate professional; I am more capable of doing great things. However, I don’t feel I can connect with others properly. It always feels like I’m a step behind. On the other hand, when I speak Malayalam, I feel liberated. I can talk freely, and connect to others with ease. Conversations come easier, and are less painful. But, I lose some of my thoughtfulness, the part of myself that dreams.
In some twisted way, I suppose neither version of myself is whole. If I code switch between these versions, I’ll only be half of myself. So, I don’t code-switch; I code-mesh.
Introduced by Vershawn Ashanthi Young, code-meshing is blending your different languages and dialects together and using them to convey your person. When I speak Malayalam and English in tandem, switching from one to the other without hesitation, I feel complete. Studies suggest that I am not alone in experiencing this phenomenon. When code meshing is used in a classroom, teaching using a native language and English simultaneously, while student grades don’t vary significantly, their proactiveness in class increases.
Features Editor (Volume 51); Associate Features Editor (Volume 50) — Madhav is a third year student completing a double major in mathematics and computer science, and a minor in professional writing. Everyone in UTM has a unique story that makes them special and deserves to be told. As the Features Editor, Madhav wants to narrate these types of stories with creative and descriptive writing. In his off-time, Madhav loves watching anime, reading manga or fantasy novels and listening to music.