Vietnamese Classmates

I hate being monolingual.

I remember going to my grandma's house, on my mom's side of the family, and seeing my cousins speak fluent Vietnamese to my grandma when I could hardly understand a word she said. This wasn't just my grandma either, this was everyone. I would be sitting at a the table when all of a sudden a wave of laugher would consume the whole room. Not just any laugher, the laughter of a Vietnamese family. The table would shake, hands would fly up in the air, someone would spit out their water, someone else would fall out of their chair... and here I am... just sitting. There was no way for me to participate. I felt excluded. The worst part was that I had to constantly ask my cousins, "What just happened? What is she trying to tell me?" I was embarrassed at my ability to understand another language that I considered to be "mine" when I was not at fault.

From being surrounded by this other culture, I developed an opinion on monolingualism. To me, and FOR me (emphasis that I don't see YOU like this), being monolingual is the lack of effort to understand the rest of the world. It reflects upon global awareness - the understanding of factors impacting the world - and cultural awareness - demonstrating and understanding other people's cultural values, beliefs, and perceptions which may differ from mine.

This is where the heart of my decision to study abroad comes from. I knew I always wanted to study abroad, but I chose France because I craved the knowledge and the experience that another language would provide.

Why did I tell you all of that? Good question, thanks for asking!

After the two week placement course for USAC students, we got moved into different classes with the rest of the international students. The best part about this class is that I got to meet people from other countries with our common language being French, not English. This not only forces me to speak French, but it brings us together since we already have something and common and can go from there. I didn't really know what to expect. However, I didn't expect to be in classes with all Asian students - Japanese, Chinese, Korean, and VIETNAMESE!

On the first day of class, we had an ice breaker: "Go around the room, introduce yourselves, and find someone who ______." In doing so, I met two Vietnamese students, one boy, one girl. I could tell from their names, their faces, and how they pronounced French words. When I told them I was half-Viet, I expected them to say, "Oh, cool!" and not much more, since I could not speak it, but that didn't happen. Instead, their faces lit up and it sparked a much longer conversation. I could tell it meant a lot to them that there was not one thing, but TWO things connecting us without knowing each other. They were both thrilled and wanted to know more about who I was, who my mom was, where I lived, how my family got there. They were interested in what I consider to be my identity! It made me happy (:

Immediately after our first conversation, I felt oddly connected to them. Every time we saw each other that day, they gave me the warmest smile and a sweet, "Bonjour, Lauren!"

After class today, I saw them at a table and again, their smiles stretched to their ears. How could I not go over there? I stopped by their table and ended up staying for half an hour. They asked me how much Vietnamese I could speak and/or understand. I told them I only knew "house" talk, such as: bathroom, work, fork, spoon, chopsticks, food, happy new year, sleep, etc. I said this all in French because I forgot how to say it in Vietnamese. They started listing words I might know and each time I said, "OH OUI!" we would burst out laughing! If I didn't know the word, they would explain the definition to me in French, I was basically learning two languages at once. They asked me about my mom and her side of the family, where they lived, if they all spoke Vietnamese. I tried to explain as much as I could in French. When they asked what foods I have eaten, I listed all of the Vietnamese meals I knew that my mom, aunt, or grandma would make and, with each dish, they fell into laughter again. They told me they would teach me more words, and said jokingly, "By the end of the semester you will be able to speak Vietnamese!" Obviously that won't happen, but it's cool that they want to teach me! I talked more to the girl about who she was, where she lived (in Lyon and in Vietnam), and what she was planning to do after school. I never thought that I would be able to talk to Vietnamese people in any language other than English. It feels amazing. I feel cultured! I feel accomplished! I feel welcomed! And I feel proud of myself for being able to do so.

Before, when I would talk to Vietnamese people in English, it felt as if part of my identity was stripped away. That I was an artificial product undeserving of the cultural title I claimed to hold. That it was a "shame." Now, talking to Vietnamese students in French, it feels like my roots have been watered with the gift of recognition. My roots are something that I can share with others and that I can take pride in! Whether I can speak the language or not, I learned that I am worthy of claiming the title "Vietnamese" and other people see me as that, nothing more, nothing less. Just as it should be.

I didn't realize how much I cared about this aspect of myself until I experienced what it's like to be immediately connected to strangers. As I was talking to them, I realized how proud I was and how blessed I was to be raised as a "mixed" kid. Not just any mixed kid, but a mixed Vietnamese kid.

I love you mom.

And I love my crazy, fun, loud, food-loving, Vietnamese family.

Thanks for reading,

Lauren