When I was in college, I learned that taking on another identity, even briefly, gave me pleasure. I remember going to Forida during a college school break with a friend and when we went out one night I suggested that we take on other identities, and use foreign accents. Let’s say we are Russian-born, and now work for the CIA in covert activities as spies, getting information about military actions in Russia. It only lasted for one evening, we played these roles with some men who were flirting with us at a restaurant. Our Brooklyn accents surely conveyed that we were not Russians, but I found it funny to try and speak with a foreign accent and make up things about myself that were not true. It made us laugh. I felt vivacious and full of life, quite different from my usual shy self-conscious personality. Taking on a new persona freed me from my usual one.
I have also found this freedom when speaking other languages. My first language was Yiddish, or rather Yinglish, which we spoke at home because my Poland-born grandmother, while adopting some English vocabulary, never learned to speak English. As I grew up, I learned some Spanish, as we had relatives from Cuba and I liked hearing the language around me when they visited. I studied Spanish for several years in high school. I was never fluent in either Yiddish or Spanish, but learned enough to have informal conversations.
Throughout my adulthood, when possible, although infrequent, I used those languages. My older sister and I would speak Yiddish when I visited her in Florida. As she developed dementia, it became more difficult to communicate with her. As a research scientist I ran a project focused on people who were Puerto Rican, and I sometimes spoke with staff or research participants in Spanish. But when we turned to the substance of the research, we needed to return to English.
And now I have begun to seek out opportunities to speak these languages. I find that whenever I speak Yiddish or Spanish, I am surprised at how much I enjoy it, and the risks that I take even when I am not sure of the correct word. Each language has sounds that are not found in English: the tilde over an n in a Spanish word like niño (meaning boy), gives it a nasal sound not found in the English language. And in Yiddish, the ch becomes a guttural sound, as in challah (a ceremonial braided Jewish bread). I take pleasure in forming these sounds and hearing myself say them.
It’s almost as if when I speak these languages, I am steppin’ out of myself and into another identity. And my identities in these two languages differ.
With Yiddish, which I now speak with a Zoom Meetup group, I get in touch with my beloved Bubba, and I am the little girl who she loved unconditionally. Yes, I make mistakes when I speak Yiddish, but it doesn’t bother me, as she loves me anyway. And my Meetup mates, some of whom speak Yiddish better than me, most of whom also learned it from their parents or grandparents, are glad to provide a word when needed.
And I mainly speak Spanish with Francia, my consuegra (or machataynesta) – my son’s mother in law- who visits from Columbia. (Yikes- now I can mix my Yiddish with my Spanish!). I know that Francia appreciates the effort I make; she speaks no English, and cannot participate in general family conversations held in English, as my son doesn’t speak Spanish. She and I share our love for our children and the wonderful marriage they have created. She readily turns to her daughter when she needs an explanation of what I am trying to say, and we all three laugh, like three girlfriends conspiratorially enjoying each other.
I find that when I speak either of these languages, I come away feeling good about myself. I draw from word banks and memories I didn’t know I had. I feel engaged and enlivened.
Charlemagne is credited with saying “speaking another language is like having another soul.” I think he was right- it expands my sense of self, my expectations and appreciation of myself, and my perspectives on the world and people in it.
I hope to keep steppin’ out… and I recommend it.
Reflections on Aging 