Here’s a story of how one mother is teaching her kids to embrace their culture by mixing languages, creating jokes, and having fun with words.
Growing up bilingual
My parents immigrated to Canada from Hong Kong in the 1970s. Until the age of 5, I only spoke Cantonese. Then when I entered school, I started picking up English. It was only a matter of time before I became fluent in both languages. Cantonese was the language I spoke at home and with family; English was the language I spoke at school and with friends. And my sisters were the same. So we loved making words up that combined both languages.
Coming up with a language my parents couldn’t understand
We made up our own Pin Yin system. Pin Yin means “Spell Sound”. It’s a method of spelling Chinese words with the letters of the Latin alphabet based on how they are pronounced. Then we would abbreviate certain words that our parents didn’t want us saying such as slang and profanity. For instance, when we talked about someone we didn’t like, we would say “PK”. PK (踣街) stands for “Puk Gai” and directly translates to “fall on the street”. It is a common Cantonese curse phrase that when said to another person means they want them to drop dead. It was an inside joke that our parents never understood and created an everlasting bond between us siblings. Just the other day, my sister texted me to say she was going in for her performance review at work. I responded with the words, “Add Oil” (加油, “ga yau”) which is a Chinglish (Chinese + English) expression of support and encouragement. It references adding gasoline to an engine to rev it up. If I wrote that to someone who didn’t understand this, they would have thought I was giving them a recipe for a stir-fry.
Carrying on the inside joke for the next generation
My husband and I both speak Cantonese and English. We have our shared language as well. His nickname for me is WJM which stands for “wu jo mau” (污糟貓) and translates to “dirty cat”. It’s a phrase that parents call their children when they don’t clean their rooms. I can tolerate messes a little more than he can. My nickname for him is WSM which stands for “wai sik mau” (為食貓) and translates to “greedy for food cat”. He’s a foodie who loves to eat and is always craving something. When we had our kids, we wanted to preserve our native language so we only spoke Cantonese to them. We were raising our kids in the same environment we grew up in; therefore, we knew we would have more in common with them than our parents did with us. However, I never expected I would be carrying the special cultural connection through laughter and jokes. My husband and I both speak Cantonese and English. We have our shared language as well. His nickname for me is WJM which stands for “wu jo mau” (污糟貓) and translates to “dirty cat”. It’s a phrase that parents call their children when they don’t clean their rooms. I can tolerate messes a little more than he can. My nickname for him is WSM which stands for “wai sik mau” (為食貓) and translates to “greedy for food cat”. He’s a foodie who loves to eat and is always craving something. When we had our kids, we wanted to preserve our native language so we only spoke Cantonese to them. We were raising our kids in the same environment we grew up in; therefore, we knew we would have more in common with them than our parents did with us. However, I never expected I would be carrying the special cultural connection through laughter and jokes.
A night of laughter and linguistics
Recently, my daughter and I experienced a moment where I got to see my inside joke go full circle. We were reading a book before bed about a little monster who finds a lost puppy. He brings him home and takes care of it. As I’m translating the English story in my head and reading it aloud in Cantonese, I accidentally say that the puppy became his “pet” instead of using the Chinese word for “pet”. My daughter looks at me and starts to grin. I’m confused. I realize that I said an English word instead of a Chinese word. But what was so funny about that? As she bursts into laughter, she says that I said a silly thing. I still don’t know what was going on so ask her, “What did Mommy say?” She’s now got tears streaming out of her eyes while she struggles to contain herself, “You said his puppy became his butt.” I start to laugh too because when you say the English word “pet”, it sounds like the Cantonese word “噼” which is a childish term for buttocks. We’re both holding our bellies and giggling as I try to finish reading the book. I give up. I put the book down. We’re both laying on the bed, taking turns saying the word “pet” and starting the laughing fit all over again.
Embracing both my cultural influences
As I reflect on that night, I realized the significance of experiences like these for my kids. I grew up divided between my Chinese and Canadian upbringing, never feeling like I belonged in either. My parents couldn’t empathize with my experiences because they didn’t grow up in Canada. Although we could speak the same language, a lot of those cultural nuances were lost in translation. However, through raising my kids, I’m able to cement my sense of identity, appreciate both cultural influences and create one that I am proud of. Sharing this made-up language with my kids has empowered them to learn more about their cultures. The more they understand both sides of the coin, the more they can recognize the unique experiences of being a Chinese Canadian and the stronger their sense of self-worth becomes. Unlike me, they won’t feel like they need to choose one culture over another. Instead, they can truly embrace the different parts of who they are. And if that means I have to get creative, make jokes, and laugh along the way? I’m all in…no ifs, ands, or butts about it!
