Qué Indio

(Alternative title for this post included:

"Another Post About Language (on a blog which wasn't meant to be for language)".

We have this saying in Spanish (specifically in El Salvador, Honduras and Guatemala, I believe):

"Qué indio".

It can be translated to "how indian of you" ("indian" being a term for Native American/Aboriginal people, not from people hailing from India), and it's perhaps one of the most derogatory phrases that can be uttered. It's used when a person expresses affinity for something (be it an activity, food or clothes) that is taken as lesser in value, or characteristic of the "lower class" as labelled by the person doing the insult.

It's basically the Latino equivalent of seeing a farmer who says he likes country (or wearing straw hats), and then calling out, "hey, that's so redneck of you".

Presumably, you, the one doing the insult, are not dressed up as a farmer. But you may be. It can happen amongst the same demographic 

However, it goes way more than that. Clearly, no one thinks: 'oh, I think this person is inferior to me, because (s)he has a different taste. I will shame them into being the same as me, because that is the way to go. I hate diversity, and I hate my heritage'. It's funny, it's snarky, it makes everyone laugh-- even those who have direct Native American lineage. It calls out the person in a way that is gently ridiculing, but can still be ignored

There are countless memes on being indio:

From a quick Google search

I want to focus on this gem: "You're so native/aboriginal/primitive.. that it rains when you dance"

Now, it's hard to put my finger in why exactly is this insult derogatory. Clearly, yes, because it makes fun and offends an entire race and group of people. But the ones who see this as problematic are the educated white people from an outsider's perspective. When in the midst of conversation or joking around, the saying just goes around, everyone laughs and no one pays it any mind. So what's the big deal? Is it only excess political correctness? In a world oversaturated with "offensive" terminology, am I merely imagining the effect it has in conversation?

In my opinion, it stems from the fact that it's meant to shame the receptor; completely trying to erase the fact that we were, once, proud to be called natives. We were once proud of our rain dances, or our taste in music or clothing. The war of attrition that language wages on a culture shouldn't be overlooked. It's not merely about excess political correctness, as the media sometimes paints it:

I want to see your "healed" hip in thirty years.

But about a tangible impact that it has on society. The rejection of what once was, and wanting to do away from any trace of primitive, as if we're ashamed of it. Even worse, it directly calls the person out for having a lower social status: essentially saying, 'oh, you've got very low-income tastes in (music/dance/clothing/TV shows/etc)'. And then everyone laughs? There must be something wrong, I think.

In any case, much and more has been said about how society has become over-sensitive to language choices, or how there are things way more important to worry about than how people speak, and political correctness has breached freedom of speech. I do, however, believe that the way we speak has a direct impact on how we label (and therefore treat and think about) each other. A society that lacks the foundations of mutual respect cannot progress, but merely repeats the same mistakes that have been previously made in history.

What do you think? Oversensitiveness or an actual issue? (This also applies to people calling others "rednecks".)

A Language Unknown

Quitlahpalohua, iknihutli.

I wish I hadn't had to Google that before I wrote it. It's Náhuatl for "greetings, friends", and used to be the native language everywhere from Southeast Mexico to El Salvador:

As you can see, only very few actively-speaking Náhuatl population clusters remain.

After the Spanish conquest of the Aztec empire (based in Tenochtitan, Mexico), in 1521, Náhuatl began to disappear slowly as the lingua franca of Mesoamerica. Driven by Catholicism, Spanish began to infiltrate the population, thus becoming the predominant language in the region.

Regretfully, there can only be one lingua franca occupying a space at a time, and Spanish replaced Náhuatl as such. Instead of preserving both languages as official, or evidence of a culture as great as the Spanish, the Conquistadors decided to throw the linguistic patrimony of Mesoamerica down the drain.

Basically.

Of course, the tossing of languages has been a particular problem for the human race since the beginning of language: as long as there has been war, there have been disappearing races and tribes, and languages. Take the Inuit Genocide, or (even more recently) the Native American mass displacements from their ancestral territories. All of these slow wars of attrition slowly erode the world's cultural heritage; a slow tirade against diversity.

I've always been obsessed with words in other languages that have no direct translation to either Spanish or English (the two that I speak most fluently). One of these is "mamihlapinatapai", which has been denominated "the most succinct word" by the Guinness Book of World Records. It's also considered one of the hardest words to translate, with it meaning something along the lines of "a look that two people share when each one wishes the other one would initiate something, but none of them doing so".

Thanks, Bettafish Resistance, for Mamihlapinatapai

Isn't it wonderful? In this day and age, etymology is not considered to be an important study to pursue. The origin and change of meaning in language hasn't been given the attention it deserves- especially now, that the UNESCO estimates that one language dies every 14 days. In similar lines, over half of the world's 7,000 different languages is expected to disappear by the end of the century.

To be honest, I see the appeal in learning English, or Spanish or Chinese. They're either the majority language in trade (business, economics, mathematics), or knowing one of the predominant languages just makes it easier to communicate with the rest of the world. From an economic perspective, it makes sense.

However, what is the cost? Is a slowly disappearing culture a good price to pay for a one-up in business? This queries come from a place in me in which I'm scared of globalization. I'll admit it; I, as a millennial, am scared of globalization. No, it's not an oxymoron. It's the fact that I don't want cultural heritage to be whitewashed or influenced by the lack of culture that comes with globalization.

Perhaps I'll have to adapt (of course I will), and perhaps the UNESCO will come up with effective languge-protection programs. For now, however, I'll have to be resigned to learning Náhuatl merely as a pastime-- merely to hold a dying ember of my culture.