The Intersections of Identity and Language

“A leai se gagana, ua leai se aganu’u, a leai se aganu’u, ua po le nu’u.”

When you lose your language you lose your culture, and when there is no longer a living culture, darkness descends on the village.

Illustrated by Sara Moana (she/her)

This quote speaks to the loss of language across the Pacific and the interconnectedness between culture and language.

This week I have sat down with friends, Ruth Stowers and Kris Lavasi’i, to unpack this quote and discuss our own journeys with learning Gagana Sāmoa and how this interconnects with our own identity.

Learning Gagana Sāmoa, for both Ruth and Kris, has been a continuous journey of exploring their cultural understandings and identity.

Language is often viewed as a way to solidify our own cultural identities. For those of the diaspora, this can be a difficult and often traumatic experience, where we exist without knowledge of our own language.

“It really is a lot more than just learning the words,” Kris explains.

It’s a personal journey that we have to take as Sāmoans of the diaspora, to unpack personal trauma and shame and admit to these feelings in open settings.

Our loss of language is ever present in our minds and as we move throughout the world.

“Our mother tongue, it looms like a ghost in the background of a lot of our experiences,” states Kris.

In this sense, beginning our journey of learning is not as simple as learning a language for curiosity or to learn a new skill. It is deeply personal and unique to each of our experiences as Sāmoan people.

Kris mentions that he recognises that his cultural identity is not purely informed by language but he acknowledges that learning the language helps to strengthen his understanding of the different facets of Sāmoan culture. He says this has occurred through being able to actually name and understand the deeper meanings and significance of aspects within our culture that have always been around him.

“What it does help to do is anchor aspects of my experience,” he explains. “It anchors that sense of being.”

“I would argue it gives you that sense of foundation – an added sense of firmness to that cultural formation and that formation of your cultural identity.”

It was also acknowledged throughout our conversation that in taking up Gagana Sāmoa, there comes a sense of responsibility and tautua to your families.

“I do see it as a little bit of obligation in my family,” explains Ruth.

“I’d love to get it back at least for my sisters because I’m lucky to have the time, the resources and the space to dedicate to this part of my culture,” she continues.

“What we have is ours to share,” furthers Kris.

“It does introduce that next level of obligation to share what we have especially with our siblings.”

Although, this pathway isn’t always easy as acknowledged by both Kris and Ruth.

For many, the language journey can be hard and painful. For those of us learning our mother tongue for this first time, this is a very personal journey that can involve a lot of reflection and growth.

When your identity or knowledge of your language is questioned in the beginnings of this process it can often be affronting.

“It’s not just another language to learn for utility or enjoyment,” explains Kris

.

“You’re actively relearning your heritage and there’s a deep sense of personal work and effort that sits beneath just the actual learning of the words.”

“It’s a reintegration of your past, it’s an exploration of what your present is and it’s an investment for what your future will look like,” says Kris.

Kris reflected in our discussion of the reasons behind why so many of us have grown up removed from our language. In his own father’s experience this was deeply connected to assimilation and trying to succeed within a palagi-centred country.

“It’s the story you often hear with diaspora kids, and children of the movement,” Kris explains, “that my dad grew up in a context where being Sāmoan wasn’t just undesirable, it was actively a challenge."

“If you weren’t afakasi, if you didn’t have a palagi last name, you didn’t get the same access to education, you didn’t get the same access to opportunities.”

“The thought we’ve often had is that maybe for my dad – the idea of us being Sāmoan in itself was a challenge,” Kris continues.

“Therefore, speaking the language, something so fundamentally tied to that identification and that sense of identity, would be more of a constraint on our ability to succeed in what is and remains to be a western centric, Eurocentric, palagi-centred world.”

Kris notes that he did feel a sense of resentment regarding what he considers to be a lost opportunity for him to be who he truly is and to be truly Sāmoan, especially when you consider the interconnectedness of language and culture.

“The language shapes the culture, and the culture informs the language and it’s that reciprocity and mutual affect that underscores, particularly in indigenous contexts, the relationship between language and culture,” Kris states.

Both Ruth and Kris acknowledge the feelings of shame that go alongside reconnecting and learning your language.

“It’s feelings of shame,” explains Ruth, “like you should know this language.”

“It’s a lot more to unpack than just the words.”

There are a multitude of reasons as to why we don’t speak our mouther tongue – many of these reasons being related to traumatic experiences caused by colonisation.

It’s therefore a difficult journey that is much deeper than simply learning words and speaking.

“It shows that language doesn’t occur in a vacuum, it’s in a context,” comments Kris.

“It intersects with so many different things, our lived experience, our cultural norms and expectations.”

“There’s no sense of recognition for the factors that have led to us being distanced from our culture, led to us being distanced from our language,” Kris continues.

“It can feel like a real uphill slog and quite alienating, quite ostracising so you feel like you’re working alone but actually the reality is that there are heaps of us.”

These feelings can be extenuated when engaging in learning with palagi students, who for many are learning out of curiosity or for a hobby.

Ruth comments that while this is a positive thing, especially for those with Sāmoan relatives, it often makes our journeys more tiring.

“Just having to unpack it for people who for them it’s just a language can feel quite exhausting where I have to actively make effort just to reclaim something,” Ruth says.

“Things like that can make it extra exhausting when in the first place it’s a lot of emotional uphill to even put yourself in that position to be open to acknowledging that I don’t know it.”

In having this discussion, it was also made clear that we need to be weary of prioritising language as the be-all and end-all of understanding our Sāmoan identity.

Language and culture are interconnected and intertwined in ways that shouldn’t be removed or dislocated from one another.

“There’s no sense being able to speak to the greatest tulafale if you don’t first have a grasp of what it is that you’re saying, of what you’re speaking to, of who you’re speaking to, of how you’re speaking to,” explains Kris.

“Those are cultural understandings that underpin the language but sometimes I think they get lost.”

“In some ways that connects to the colonisation process because in a way its forced us to disambiguate and in a sense disconnect things that are intimately interwoven.”

“The fact that you can have language without culture and culture without language is directly a result of that colonial process because technically they should never be separated because they’re so interwoven,” Kris continues.

Ruth and Kris both spoke to the way in which we are exposed to language simply through engaging in aspects of Sāmoan culture, such as performing or dancing. Therefore, it’s important to be cognisant that sitting in a classroom and engaging in the language isn’t the only way to learn.

“It’s that interconnectedness,” explains Kris.

“As much as language is foundational, it’s foundational because of the way it interconnects to our culture.”

“They both act to reinforce the other and in a way diminishment of one, will diminish the presence of the other.”

“That’s again the colonial impact, because we’re estranged from one, estrangement from the other follows.”

This is the same case for Sāmoan cultural values, that for many have been instilled within us as children. It’s therefore not essential to be fluent in the language to know and understand these values and the meanings within our communities and own families.

“It helps you to perhaps articulate it better,” comments Kris, “it helps you to perhaps explore the meaning and the significance more but I would respectfully argue that those values are inbred long before language takes place.”

“They’re the things we’ve learnt from the very beginning and I think what the language enables us to do is be able to name those things.”

As commented on by Ruth, knowing our language, while something that we are all striving to learn, does not define whether or not we are Sāmoan or how we identify within our culture.

“I don’t think necessarily I need to have the language to represent myself as a Sāmoan,” she says.

“I would love to but I don’t need people to second guess that just because I don’t.”

When asked what advice they would give to those wanting to start their language journeys, Ruth and Kris both had pieces of knowledge to give.

“Don’t start any journey, your cultural journey, your cultural identity journey, your language journey – don’t start it out of a sense of fear that you aren’t enough, obligation that’s there more you should be doing or a sense of shame that you aren’t what you’re meant to be,” advises Kris.

He comments that there is a danger in doing this out of fear or a sense of trying to prove yourself. Although it is difficult, it’s important to make peace with where we are now and go from there.

“I think the danger of being motivated by fear and shame is that you’re running away from something as opposed to running toward something and soon enough you’ll get exhausted.”

“Getting caught by what’s chasing you is far more horrifying then running towards something.”

For Ruth, she implored people to get out there and start trying to engage with their language.

“I would just say do it,” she comments.

“It’s always better to give it a try then to have always wondered what if I did something.”

“Even if it’s just an excuse to connect with your family or learn more about your history. You don’t need to become fluent in a year – it’s all about the journey.”

“Connect with other people – there’s so many people on the same one,” Ruth finishes.

It can often feel lonely going on these personal journeys but forming communities and bonds in these spaces can really function to support our wellbeing.

“Your journey will look like your journey and it’s no one else’s and there’s no onus on you to look or act or behave in a way that’s like anyone else,” advises Kris.