Recourse

In the first part of my TIRP, I began to explore how discourse communities, and our notions of voice and identity complicate the way we look at and treat equity. Through the lens of Anzaldua, Baldwin, Royster, the CCCC and NCTE, I examined how our idea of equity resonates within the concepts of language and identity discourse, coming to same conclusion for both: that in order ensure equity, we must be learn -- as Royster puts it -- to find value in subjectivity, and treat the great plurality within language and identity groups as worthy in and of itself. We must not act as though the overarching "communal identity" that Baldwin writes about is value neutral, or the itself the standard, but rather, one of many legitimate, subjective viewpoints that constitute our lives. Only then, when this respect is in place, can we navigate contact zones in a way that is not inequitable, but rather creates understanding, and forwards and fosters equity in a variety of different ways.

While I fully stand by this initial assertion, in light of our most recent conversation, I would like to make some changes to my argument for the sake of clarification and complexity. First, the most immediate thing that struck me after our conversation is how naturally these arguments which I used for language and identity can and should extend themselves to a discussion of grammar. The assertion that we came to, after examining Hartwell's essay "Grammar, Grammars, and the Teaching of Grammar", is that grammar is experiential, and that is learned based on its relevance to our daily lives. We learn, and take advantage of grammars that offer the highest level of utility, and that utility is dependent on what we are trying to accomplish through our use of that grammar. The same thing is true of language. When I wrote the initial piece, in my mind, I thought of language as something that was almost totally innate; a "second skin" as Gloria Anzaldua describes it in her essay, "How to Tame a Wild Tongue". There are few things that seem to be more intimately tied to the experience of a human being, but the implication from Anzaldua's essay is ultimately that these experiences are largely bought into and learned. You can gain or lose a language depending on proximity and closeness. For example, in her piece, Anzaldua talks about her love of the Pachuco language, but laments that she lost her ability to speak it due to a lack of use in her daily experience. If language is truly innate, one should not be able to lose it as though it were a skill -- like playing the piano or violin. However, Anzaldua does, and the dilemma at the heart of her entire essay centers around her struggle to claim any one of the languages she describes as essential to her sense of Chicana identity. Instead, they are all necessary, yet not entirely fulfilling, parts of herself that are experiential in nature. In the same set that grammar is defined by its utility, the relevance of language -- and how closely tied it is to our experiences -- is what really gives it meaning. The following passage from Anzaldua's essay illustrates this issue:

“My “home” tongues are the languages I speak with my sister and brothers, with my friends… From school, the media and job situations, I’ve picked up standard and working class English. From Mamagrande Locha, I’ve picked up Standard Spanish and Standard Mexican Spanish…From my parents and Chicanos living in the Valley, I picked up Chicano Texas Spanish, and I speak it with my mom, younger brother, aunts, and older relatives. With Chicanas form Nuevo Mexico or Arizona I will speak Chicano Spanish a little…With most California Chicanas I speak entirely in English.

Each one of these is learned experience that makes up how she views herself as a Chicana. When she's with a certain group, she behaves differently then how she would otherwise, and attempts to adopt the convention and commonplaces of that discourse community. However, her strife comes from the fact that she cannot do this with equal success and satisfaction, partially because, when she speaks, in addition to a new language, she is adopting an entire ideology that is present within the confines of that language. Within that ideology is a set of expectations, conventions, and commonplaces that transform what it means to be a Chicana woman -- and are unique to that specific experience, which is liminal yet different.

In the light of this conversation, the notion of equity resonates insofar that these different experiences tied to language and grammar do not provide equal access in all situations. Going back to Anzaldua's essay, she speaks different languages in different contexts in order to attain a different result, or gain access to a different world. The simple problem is that not all of these are as effective in this respect. As an academic, Anzaldua would, in all likelihood, find it much harder to gain access to that discourse community through Tex-Mex Spanish than she would through her use of "standard" English. They simply do not perform the same function. The remedy to this inequity is somewhat proposed in the CCCC's article, "Students' Right To Their Own Language", which makes the assertion that our interaction with language is largely societal and cultural. There is no way to declare that one form of a language is the right form (this goes back the danger that Baldwin posits of the "communal identity" being thought of as the neutral, valueless standard.). That way, when we let students express their home tongues in academic setting, we are creating equity in that we are giving access to an experience where otherwise there may have been none, and destroying the inequitable hierarchy that declares one form of experience superior (or inferior) to another. In doing so, we create a liminal space; a contact zone that promotes equity, and equity within difference.