Learning a New Language Is Giving Me an Identity Crisis
- Calvin Stevens
- Feb 3
- 8 min read
I have a bit of a dilemma: I’m no longer certain what my second language is.
This became apparent to me during a casual conversation with my father as we took our elderly golden retriever on a walk around the neighbouring golf course one afternoon.
(Yes, we live next to a golf course. No, nobody in my family plays golf).
The great thing about the golf course is that it’s serene; creaks trickle passed winding trails, canopied by great pine trees — look out for the pinecones! — and fields of endless grass, as though made for elderly dogs who still think they’re puppies, stretch far into the distance alongside the playing green; the perfect place to let your mind wander.
That is, until your thoughts are punctuated by a particularly rowdy Egyptian goose or, worse yet, a trio of hadedas.
Noisy birds aside, the serenity of the golf course provides the necessary environment for the stimulation of either internal or external philosophizing. And it was during this time that my father and I were engaged in discourse surrounding one of my previous language-learning articles.
At some point during the conversation, he brought up a story about one of his colleagues who hails from Greece. For now, we’ll simply call him Max (I know; not very Greek-sounding), and Max, upon coming to South Africa, began acquiring English more rigorously. After living in the country for well over a decade, he described to my father an instant where, for the first time, he had a dream in English rather than his native Greek. And these English dreams became more and more frequent over time until, eventually, he only dreamt in English.
By now, his English has far surpassed his Greek — he lost much of his roots, as you can imagine — and it has practically become his “native” language.
Of course, I don’t foresee a future of my own where English, being my mother tongue, is ever superseded by another language — I think my love and connection to this language as well as its general worldliness will always prevent me from losing it — but it made me realize that a similar sort of phenomenon is slowly occurring with my second language.
And I’m not talking about my dreams; those are only ever in English or gibberish, so call me a native of the two. What I’m talking about is that singular moment where, like Max, I began to notice a dynamic shift in my learnt languages. There’s a mini competition brewing, and the hierarchy is shifting, causing me to undergo a slight identity crisis.
A brief background of my journey through the world of languages
As I mentioned, English is my native language, and thus it was my first taste of a true human art-form.
I was brought up monolingual by my parents, much to my disappointment in hindsight — though, do not mistake me, I only harbour jest towards my parents. And, despite wishing I had been raised bilingual, I am forever grateful that, of all the languages in this world, English was the one that would shape my life forever (my reasons, being numerous, are perhaps better due for another article entirely).
My love and knack for language became apparent early on in primary school. I fondly remember writing many rambling stories for my creative writing pieces, and I was always a voracious reader. I was never any good at math, particularly not during high school, and I think my dislike towards numbers only fueled my love for words.
Naturally, I was acquainted with my second language at the age of 7: Afrikaans.
Strangely enough, I do think merely living in South Africa has contributed to my continual desire to learn another language. Most South Africans are, by and large, not just bilingual but multilingual. So, you almost feel a sense of peer pressure to “fit in”; you don’t want to be that one kid who can only speak English.
You see, in South Africa we have 12 official languages, so generally speaking your second language (taught at school) is dependent on the local school and local demographic. Afrikaans and isiZulu were the two options my schools presented me with; and Afrikaans, based on the fact that my parents were familiar with the language from their schooling, seemed the obvious choice.
I was good at it too and, as 12 years of school went by, I soon thought of it as my second language.
Now, I have my qualms with the way schools teach languages — again, that is an article for another day — and, realistically, I should have been much further ahead in Afrikaans considering I spent 12 years learning it, but I was more well-off than most of my peers. I could hold a decent conversation in Afrikaans; I could easily understand speakers; and I was a whizz at reading.
Overall, I considered myself to have a working proficiency of the language. But, once out of high school, I rarely used the language apart from casually conversing with a few friends from time to time.
That’s the problem with a country that has 12 official languages: unless you’re a part of one or more of these scattered communities, you will most likely always default to English. And, as a result, my Afrikaans, particularly my speaking ability, has deteriorated over the years. Not terribly (because 12 years is a lot to have simply disappear), but I’m certain its status as “working proficiency” has downgraded to “limited proficiency”.
I didn’t, however, give up on languages. In fact, once I left high school, I was eager to learn more. I wanted something fresh, something new.
So, I self-studied isiZulu for a year (with the help of a friend, mind you) before taking another year-long class while I was at university.
Thus entered my third language.
Unfortunately, my dance with isiZulu was not long. By this time, as my mind matured, I became highly critical of the traditional education system and the way it teaches languages. I had hoped that university would be different from high school in this regard, but I was wrong; and, in many ways, it killed my motivation to learn isiZulu — which is really unfortunate, because in hindsight I found it far more interesting than Afrikaans.
Alas, I ditched traditional language learning by the year’s end.
And yet I was still itching for more.
I went out in search for independent language classes; classes that were not burdened by a strictly regulated syllabus and were actually taught, in small groups rather than lecture halls with over 100 others, by teachers who were passionate about their language, teachers who actually wanted to teach it.
What happened next is bizarre; because, of all the languages I could have decided to try, I took on a language that was seemingly worlds apart from any other I’d tried before.
I began learning Mandarin. My fourth language.
And let’s just say, it was the best choice of my life.
My current dilemma
Have I found success with Mandarin?
Absolutely!
I am now part of an amazing group of 6 other individuals who, all being taught by an amazing, passionate teacher, have a strong desire to learn the language. What’s more, the methods our teacher employs have forever changed the way I perceive language-learning. The schools, by comparison, were using a far-outdated method that just wasn’t engaging or all that effective. So, despite the fact that I’ve only been learning Mandarin for about a year now, I feel as though I am nearing working proficiency. A state that rivals my Afrikaans.
Thus, my dilemma has come about.
I’ve always regarded Afrikaans as my second language, but as I expounded to my father on our afternoon walk, I’ve recently found myself trailing off into Mandarin every time I try to express myself or think to myself in Afrikaans. It’s almost like my brain has a switch that decides “now it’s time to speak my second language”, but my mind is seemingly uncertain about which language, exactly, that is.
As a result, it’s making me rethink a lot of things.
What is a second language really?
Is it the language I first came into contact with after English?
Or is it the language, barring English, I’m most comfortable in?
According to the USC American Language Institute, a person’s first language is not necessarily the speaker’s first language or “the one they may prefer to use when creating a bond with a new person. This is especially true for bilingual speakers who grew up speaking more than one language.”
This, then, implies that “second language” is defined by the sequential order in which a person learns said language. So, for me, Mandarin would technically still be classified as my “fourth language”.
Interestingly, a recent study adds this:
“Although sometimes used synonymously, the terms second language and foreign language describe two different aspects: a second language refers to the official language within the country of residence, which is not a person’s mother tongue. This is, for example, the case for immigrant children who learn the language of their parents’ homeland before or while learning the language of their country of residence as a second language in school or kindergarten”¹
So, Mandarin is actually my foreign language, I guess.
Well, it’s simultaneously my fourth and foreign language.
This is all a bit befuddling, really. Language has always been important to me because, by using it as the lens through which I view and experience the world, it invariably forms the foundation of my identity.
I’ve always viewed my “second language” as a counterbalance to my native view of the world. It is the primary means by which I try to look at the world differently, This second perspective, I find, is pertinent to becoming a more holistic person, a more empathetic person.
Afrikaans has always been that second foundation for me. Now, it is a bit of a mess, a mixture of Afrikaans and Mandarin, and it’s making everything rather confusing.
I’m certain things will clear up — I don’t doubt my Mandarin will soon surpass my Afrikaans; but I think there’s something else I need to change. My mindset needs a readjustment. My brain has been so concerned with “switching to my second language” that it’s missing the beauty of understanding multiple languages.
I need to stop thinking in terms of “switch to my second language” and begin thinking in terms of “switch to Afrikaans” or “switch to Mandarin” or “switch to isiZulu”. This idea of “second” and “foreign” language is limiting.
Languages cannot and should not be placed in boxes. Languages are free, just as they provide us the freedom to express ourselves.
I’m still relatively new to becoming multilingual, and the process is confusing.
But I don’t doubt that, through my tenacity, this will work out. I will get it to work.
One day it’ll all become second-hand nature…
… I hope.
References:
Krüger, M. (2023). Theory of Second Language Acquisition. In: Media-Related Out-of-School Contact with English in Germany and Switzerland. Springer VS, Wiesbaden. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-658-42408-4_4
Merwe, Anita & Le Roux, Mia. (2014). Idiosyncratic sound systems of the South African Bantu languages: Research and clinical implications for speech-language pathologists and audiologists. The South African journal of communication disorders. Die Suid-Afrikaanse tydskrif vir Kommunikasieafwykings. 61. 1–8. 10.4102/sajcd.v61i1.86.
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