This week's readings made me realize how much of our daily lives are organized by assumptions we don't always notice. Like we've discussed in class, language ideologies shape the way we talk and how we assess what other people sound like. One could assume that someone sounds 'more intelligent' or 'less fluent' by a little snippet of how they pronounce a word or phrase. Barret makes clear that these judgments aren't really based on linguistic ability; they're about the social categories we've been taught to see. It's an uncomfortable realization, because it means that the ways that I've been praised for "good English" (no matter how good the intentions were) in Korea and here in the States, or the way my Korean is a 'foreign language' here, isn't really a neutral stance. They're ideologies at work.
The Sign Language Accents video made me ponder this even more. Watching it gave me a new perspective on accents, pushing me to think about how 'variation' adds to 'identity'. A New Yorker signing fast, an older man signing alphabets differently to someone who is young, is not at all different than my own Korean intonation being more melodic after years of speaking English. I couldn't believe I hadn't considered the ways sign language could have all these different dialects. The only difference is that (at least to my knowledge) people wouldn't make fun of these dialects or think of some variations as 'less than', if it gets the message across.
Perhaps because we're more used to learning a standardized way of using spoken languages and the nuances (e.g., accents in relation to social contexts), some differences are a source of pride ("you sound like a native!") while others are seen as deficits ("that's not professional"). Raciolinguistic ideologies make it hard for some people to find confidence in their backgrounds and language. Even when people compliment me, saying things like, "Oh, I thought you were from here, not Korean", I question the unspoken words. Would having a stronger 'Korean accent' be less acceptable? I don't want anyone's identity to depend on someone else's perception.
And sometimes, I don't know where to draw the line. On one hand, I would like to take a compliment as a compliment. Still, on the other hand, as I take classes like these, I don't want to be the one indirectly perpetuating the notion that there exists a 'superior language identity'.
I would hope that variations can be seen as evidence of a journey— like Julie highlighted in the Sign Language video, a piece of someone's biography. A testament to where they grew up, who taught them, what other languages they know, and what they feel comfortable with. That feels more honest to the human experience, and more liberating, too.