Growing up with three languages—English, Malay, and Chinese—I wrestled with the question of which language to write in. English, the language of the colonizer, felt like a betrayal of my Malaysian and Chinese heritage. Yet, it was intricately woven into my family history, the language my grandparents used to navigate life in British-occupied Malaya. They used English phrases to express care and provide comfort, learning just enough to forge new lives. This realization sparked a journey of understanding my complex relationship with English and how I could claim it as my own.
English: From Escape to Negotiation
Initially, English was a language of escape, learned solely through reading. It opened doors to fantastical worlds far removed from my own, fostering boundless dreaming. British children’s literature, with its tales of adventure and resilience, offered a stark contrast to the seemingly mundane narratives in my Malay and Chinese textbooks. However, encountering Shirley Geok-lin Lim’s poetry shattered this illusion.
Lim’s poem “Monsoon History,” set in a Malaysian fishing village, depicted familiar scenes and incorporated both local details (drinking Milo) and unexpected references (reading Tennyson). This juxtaposition forced me to confront the complexities of my own cultural identity. Why Tennyson? Why Milo? These questions revealed the subtle yet pervasive influence of colonialism on everyday life.
Reclaiming Language, Reclaiming Identity
Lim’s poem sparked a realization: English was not an escape, but a “painful negotiation” between myself and my environment. My family used English as a tool for survival; I could wield it to reinvent myself and my stories. This realization shifted my perspective on writing in English from an act of assimilation to one of reclaiming space.
Just as a local hill bore both a colonial and a local name, I recognized my dual identity as a postcolonial writer. Lim’s poem “Learning to Love America,” with its ambivalent declaration of belonging, further solidified this understanding. It demonstrated the power of language to create a layered identity, one that acknowledges history while forging a new path.
Embracing the Complexity
Elaine Castillo, in her essay on language and identity, eloquently captures this sentiment: “The reason I write in English, and the reason I use untranslated words, are one and the same…history.” My decision to write in English is not capitulation but an acknowledgment of my heritage and a conscious act of claiming space. It’s a way to explore the complexities of my identity and connect with readers on a deeper level.
Through literature, I discovered how we are both connected and ensnared by language. By embracing this complexity and wielding English with intention, I can tell my stories, honor my heritage, and contribute to the ongoing conversation about identity, language, and belonging. My journey as a multilingual author is a testament to the transformative power of language—how it can be both a tool of oppression and a means of liberation.
