Attempts to stabilize. i.e. STORY TIME: Let me bore you with some semantics!
In the English language, the third person pronoun for a human can only take a distinctly male, female or neutral tone: he, she, one. We do not refer to people as “it”. But when we refer to individuals neutrally by using “one” as a pronoun, the individual takes on an impersonal, almost stiff, feeling. (And I speak of words as feelings translated into the material world).
In Tagalog, the third person pronoun for a human is “siya”. In Bahasa Indonesia, it is “dia”. In Kapampangan, it is “ya”. In Ilocano, it is “itu”. And I feel a twinge of shame, because I had to Google the last two, just to be sure. But what I wanted to say was that all four are gender-neutral. There are no specific words that translate to “he” and “she”. But once used, the words unmistakably point to humans as the subject. By themselves, they are still personal pronouns. “One,” by itself, is more of a counting noun.
In Mandarin, the word for “he” looks like this: 他。 For she: 她。 When spoken, they are pronounced as “ta” in the first tone (imagine you’re saying “ahh” for an oral inspection). The distinction can only be made contextually. Sometimes, you can’t tell the difference at all in conversations.
I used to find it funny when the people around me couldn’t get the usage of “he” and “she” right. But what can we do? There are no indigenous distinctions unless you explicitly state that the actor is male or female. (If anyone ought to feel bad, it’s the girl who didn’t grow up speaking a language from her own part of the world.) This seems to be generally true for Malay group languages. No, not the local alien part; I mean the words and their lack of male/female counterparts. I wonder if Mandarin speakers have an easier time deciding which pronoun to use.
The people around me found it funny when I attempted to speak in Tagalog because I would use the right words but put them in an English grammatical structure. And now I sometimes have it the other way around. My words get trapped halfway out of my mouth (/fingertips?). Oh, life, you’ve allocated me to the conyo kid class. And of all the places to study, I pick the place least friendly to the [traidor! kasapi ng imperialistang ‘Kano!** (READ THE ENDNOTE. I BEG YOU.)]. /cri. I was raised on a steady diet of Disney, “English only” policies, and the illusion of the OFW dream. I’m repenting, okay?
Did you know that conyo is Catalan Spanish for “vagina”? The way we understand it now (as a term for Tag-lish speaking and *often* materially well-endowed people) is one of those accidents of history. In the Spanish colonial period, mestizos gathered in raucous groups could be heard saying “conyo” an innumerable amount of times. We have to keep in mind that very few of the local population knew how to speak Spanish. They would hear the offensive word so often, but would not know the word’s meaning, that the locals would call those groups of mestizos “conyo”.
This would continue for people who could speak English in the early American colonial time. Time passes, people forget to check the meaning of their words, and viola! we have today’s version. Imagine if somewhere in the world a group of kids perceived to be better-off than everyone else (partly because they speak English as their main language) is called a “fuck” or a “shit”. Or a “pussy”. Ang pussy [/conyo] mo talaga!
Okay, I think I’m good. Maybe next time I’ll talk about that funny shift from “Orocan” (a brand of plastic ware) to “plastic” (e.g. “Jusko! Huwag ka na makihalubilo sa plastik na ‘yan!” Would go literally something like “My god! Don’t you anymore socialize with that plastic [person]!” DO YOU FEEL THE PAIN OF CODE SWITCHING?? Would make more sense in English as “... Don’t socialize with that kind of trash anymore!”).
**Endnote: I’m exaggerating. Having decided to stay where I am, I have been bestowed with the friendliest fellow students/profs ever. They have never seriously called me a traitor. Many, however, fondly look at me as an unfortunate colonial byproduct needing a good amount of reeducation.
Case in point: Second year, article written in Filipino on the Katipunan’s revolutionary dialogue is distributed. *Teacher looks at me.* *Teacher laughs nervously.* T: “Nakakaintindi ka ba ng [mga basahing nakasulat sa Pilipino]...?” *I am mortified.* *I laugh nervously back.* M: “Sir naman!!” (secretly self-ranks only at “basic” proficiency) T: “Ikaw naman! Binibiro lang kita.” *wink wink* <-- no, the winks didn’t happen. I got “yeah right” laugh instead.
Besides, I have very, very rarely met anyone who seriously believes all Americans/American culture is imperialist in nature. The italicized text was a play on a bad stereotype. Please don’t kill me.
But I have heard rumors of a certain illustrious professor chasing an American out by default of his American-ness. There was probably a lot more to the story than I heard. And imagine a (mostly) pureblood national speaking like some alien! If we assume the strawman is true, I would receive a restraining order.
