Language Investigation One

When you grow up with corn husks that transform into dolls, septic tanks that you use to taunt your little cousins, and your back yard is as close as you ever think you will get to the magical Disney World, you have an imagination that is as fireworks, constantly exploding into various multicolored formations and begging to be shared with your friends and family. Growing up in Brazil, I found that speech was one of the most valuable and transformable tools I would ever have. Due to our financial instability, I never owned a book for enjoyment, never traveled anywhere special, and most definitely never played with any of the few toys that I did have; they stayed in my room, on a shelf, hardly ever touched and but completely adored. Language became a necessity. Communication became one of the few outlets to alleviate the monotony of our everyday, milk and rice existence.

Now that I have a daughter, I have taken upon myself the task of teaching her what was once taught to me. I teach her that she can only be torn down by negative connotations of words if she allows them to. While growing up, I knew my uncle as “Gordo.” His real name was DeoClesio but we called him “Fat”. This name progressed into a more adult form from “Gordinho”, or “Little Fatty”, because he was chunky as a tiny tike. As he grew into a slender and athletic young man, he lost his baby fat but never lost the name. Nonetheless, the epithet was his. “Gordinho” had once identified him as a well-fed child and now, as a man, it allowed him to think positively about his body and appreciate the relationship he had with his family. In our family, over time, the word Gordinho has almost completely lost its association with the state of one’s body. Gordinho, or Gordinha for females, is used to describe someone you respect, love, and completely adore, regardless of their physique. Another word whose etymology has changed over time in our family is the word “linda”, beautiful. It progressed from “lindinha,” little beauty. To this day, my cousin and I approach each other by saying, “Oi minha linda”, or “Hello my beautiful.” Again, the word has less to do with how attractive we think the other one is. Instead, it allows us to share our feelings of adoration, love, and appreciation towards one another.

Without a strong financial base during my childhood, I was forced to use language as a tool to work up the soil of my very bland garden of life. Because everyone knew of their own struggling situation, the communication between family members was of an uninhibited and unapologetic kind. Sometimes the truth, spoken in words and let out into space for all to hear, was all that we had control of in our lives. Now, I associate speaking Portuguese with a knowledge beyond that which one may find in books. It is a knowledge about oneself. It is the strength to know how you feel, know the truth about your situation, and not being ashamed to share it with others. It is the strength to admit that your emotions and your experiences are as true and as powerful as gravity, and they can keep you just as grounded. I cannot imagine anything more valuable to give to my daughter than the strength to use language to discover and express herself without allowing words to destroy her. This knowledge will forever be more precious than any valuable I may ever pass down to her.