Revival: The Journey to Reclaiming My Mother Tongue

Leaving Home

At the age of 16, I embarked on a life-altering journey. I left behind the picturesque landscapes of Laguna in the Philippines, fresh out of high school, and ventured to the distant land of Stockport, England. The decision to migrate was exhilarating, and I was filled with anticipation about the adventures that awaited me. Little did I know that this new chapter in my life would lead me on a profound journey of self-discovery, identity, and language.

My mother had found work in England as a caregiver and moved country on her own, leaving me and my sister under my Lolo's care. She eventually met and re-married an Englishman, and decided me and my sister should move to England too, for the prospect of a better life. Like so many overseas Filipino workers, we were uprooting everything in pursuit of greater opportunity abroad.

I was leaving behind the only life I had ever known - my friends, my memories, my home. Saying goodbye to the people and places I loved was incredibly difficult. But I boarded that one-way flight with optimism, believing this major life transition would lead to good things.

Culture Shock

As I landed in England, I believed I had a firm grasp of the English language. After all, I had studied it diligently back in the Philippines. However, I quickly realised that there was more to the English language than I had ever imagined—accent and dialects. Accents, as it turned out, could make a massive difference.

The first time I encountered the English accent, it was like deciphering a foreign code. What I thought I knew about speaking and understanding English was put to the test. The rapid pace and distinct intonations left me bewildered at times, struggling to keep up with everyday conversations. It was a humbling experience, but it was also a lesson in adaptability.

At home, my English stepdad strictly forbade me, my sister and my mum from speaking Tagalog, even amongst ourselves. He feared we were talking about him behind his back in our native tongue. This distrust and suppression of our mother language was a hurtful manifestation of ethnocentrism that I did not fully grasp at the time.

In wider English society, speaking immigrant minority languages like Tagalog is often met with disapproval. People feel threatened and suspicious when they cannot understand private conversations. There is subtle but pervasive pressure to conform to the dominant English culture and language.

My stepfather's rules banning Tagalog reflected these problematic societal attitudes. By enforcing English at home, he conveyed that our Filipino culture and language were inferior and inappropriate. Though I could not articulate it then, this was an early encounter with the deep undercurrents of racism that delimit how ethnic minorities can exist in Western societies. Unfortunately, it was not my last encounter with microaggressions.

The impact of microaggressions builds up over time, making someone feel excluded, powerless or invisible. Even though each instance may seem minor, the little chuckle when one mispronounces an English word or the exasperated sighs when you have to repeat what you said to someone whose first language is not English, together they communicate hostility and reinforce systemic inequities. 

Assimilation

In my eagerness to fit into my new English surroundings, I tried wholeheartedly to assimilate. I worked tirelessly to adapt to the accent, even attempting to emulate it myself. I was self-conscious whenever my Filipino accent slipped through and cringed when people could instantly identify my heritage just from my speech patterns.

This reaction was a manifestation of a problematic mentality ingrained in me - that Western ideals were superior and that the more I could conform to them, the more acceptance I would find. Many Filipinos fall into this trap, almost brainwashed into thinking that sounding and looking more Western equals being better.

After a few years, for the most part, I had gotten rid of my Filipino accent and English had been my sole spoken language for years. I have learned English colloquialisms and can converse with ease. Oh, the fruits of my labour! The last time we went back home to the Philippines to visit my Lolo, I remember being secretly pleased when a sales lady in SM City San Pablo said that my "Tagalog was not very good." (How insane is that?!)

But in my quest to assimilate, I didn't realise that I was losing an integral part of my identity that I would later come to regret. The wake-up call was around the corner, when a deeply personal moment would reveal just how much was at stake.

Wake-Up Call

It wasn't until a significant moment that my struggle with language truly hit home. It was during the final days of my beloved Lolo, my grandfather and the only father I knew. He could speak English, but his proficiency was limited, and his primary and preferred language was Tagalog (as it should be!). I desperately wanted to communicate with him, to share my thoughts, feelings, and gratitude for everything he had done for me.

However, my newfound difficulty in Tagalog became a barrier. The words I had taken for granted were slipping through my fingers. I couldn't convey what I wanted to say to him in my native tongue. I remember the frustration, the tears, and the missed opportunities to share those precious moments with him. In my desperation, I resorted to writing down my thoughts in Tagalog, just so I could communicate with him effectively.

That experience was my wake-up call, a stark reminder of the importance of language and culture. I realised that losing touch with my mother tongue was not just about words; it was about losing a vital connection to my heritage, my family, and my identity. It was a moment of deep regret, one that I would carry with me for the rest of my life.

The Journey of Revival

In the midst of my grief and regret over losing my mother tongue, I made a commitment to myself—a promise to honour my roots and to never let language be a barrier again. My journey to reclaim my mother tongue began with renewed vigour. I sought out Tagalog films (shoutout to Netflix!) and engaged in conversations with my family in Tagalog and not English as per usual.

Reclaiming my mother tongue was not just a personal endeavour; it was a tribute to my Lolo, a promise to never let language hinder our connection again, even if he was no longer with us. I realised that language is not merely a means of communication; it's a vessel for preserving traditions, stories, and the essence of who we are.

As part of this promise, I embarked on creating Aking Sinta Jewellery, a brand that celebrates Filipino culture and design. This business connects me back to my roots while allowing me to share the beauty of my heritage with others. It represents my journey of revival, turning a personal commitment into an endeavour that honours my history.

Finding Balance

As I continued my journey, I discovered that I could strike a balance between assimilating into my new culture and preserving my Filipino identity. My English fluency remained, but it was complemented by a revived passion for Tagalog. I learned that embracing both cultures and languages enriched my life in ways I could never have imagined.

In uprooting myself fully from my Filipino roots, the process of re-rooting in England was slow and has been filled with unexpected challenges. For the longest time, it felt like I was merely surviving, unable to fully plant myself in this new soil. Only with time did I learn to embrace both cultures and languages, finding a way to thrive.

Reflection

Today, as I look back on my journey, I am grateful for the wake-up call that pushed me to reclaim my mother tongue. I carry the memory of my Lolo with me, cherishing the moments we shared in Tagalog and the lessons he imparted about the importance of preserving our heritage.

My story is a testament to the resilience of language and culture, a reminder that it's never too late to reconnect with your roots, and a tribute to the power of communication in bridging generations and preserving our most cherished memories.

In my journey to revival, I found not only my mother tongue but also a deeper understanding of who I am, where I come from, and the unique tapestry of cultures that make me who I am today.

I am still early in my journey of rediscovering my native Tagalog fluency and reconnecting with my Filipino identity. But I am determined to get there. I will fulfill my promise to my Lolo and to myself. With this, I invite others to join me on my journey and share their stories so that we may learn and grow stronger together.