The thing is, because we learn to speak so young, we tend to forget that words are nothing more than symbols that when strung together in certain ways, provide meaning that allows us to communicate. The problem, though, is that not every word means the same thing to everyone. Add in the layer of bilingualism (or multilingualism) and you could be in for a real misunderstanding.
Case in point: I was attending the Latino Writer’s Conference when an editor and agent asked If I’d be willing to show them around, since I was native to the area. Eager to show off and, hopefully, have them take a serious look at my work, I obliged. I took them to various sites and attractions; I even showed them the back-alley history of Santa Fe, as a way to prove my street cred. Here’s the catch: The agent was from Chile and the editor, Venezuela. They were both native Spanish speakers, as am I, and I thought that they’d get a kick out of getting fresh tortillas from a real tortilleria. But when I suggested it, they laughed and the editor (or agent, memory fails me) said, “I don’t think we have that kind of time.”
The other said, “And we really aren’t dressed for such a visit, either.”
The giggled and asked a question about something or another, but I was beyond confused. “I’m sorry,” I said. “But I’m not following.”
“We thought you were making a joke, otherwise, you’d be some kind of pervert, que no?”
“Uh, why would taking you to a bakery make me a pervert, and why aren’t you dressed to get fresh tortillas?”
Their furrowed brows and slightly agape mouths indicated that they were more confused than I was. The agent said, “What do you think a tortilleria is?”
“Uhh….” I said with the same condescending tone with which my son answers my questions. “A bakery?”
They laughed. Hard.
When they returned to their senses, the editor said, “Where we come from, a tortilleria is a slang term for a whorehouse! We thought you were joking about taking us to one of your favorite haunts.”
We laughed and discussed how different words can be, even if they are in the same language.
Which is my point: words are symbols that represent something. But what they represent depends upon the context from which a person learns the word. Although both the agent and editor understood the tortilleria to represent a whorehouse, to me it represented fresh tortillas. Their context and my context were clearly quite different.
That’s the thing, though: words have meaning. And the words with which we represent ourselves are all the more meaningful and, more importantly, laced with value connotation. And words that are chose for us to identify with are not only meaningful, but potentially dangerous.
Prescriptive terms such as “addict” or “alcoholic” are not only loaded with meaning, but they are also potentially destructive. But it takes a deconstruction of what those terms represent to a person in order to fully understand what, exactly, they represent. Mandatory identification with those terms, without the requisite deconstruction could become a self-fulfilling prophesy and/or a path to even more shame.
I’m not willing to take that risk.
