I’ve long understood that language and thought are two sides of the same coin, meaning that language acquisition is critical to learning.  For students from other countries who come to live and learn in the United States, their ability to speak – and think – in English is vital in determining their success academically and in their future lives as participants in our society.  I have never been of the ethnocentric mindset that non-English speakers should learn English out of some obligation to the country or its citizens.  I think that it is well within a person’s rights to maintain their first language and never learn of bit of English, if they are able to live comfortably while doing so.  Where an inability to speak English inconveniences native English speakers, as happens often enough in customer service scenarios, it is not the fault of the non-English speaker, but of the company that hired the worker in a capacity where speaking English was important.  After all, where customer support lines are outsourced to other countries, it has nothing to do with customer convenience, and everything to do with the company maintaining their bottom line – that is, saving money.

What’s important is that we recognize that all language has equal value within its own cultural context.  For non-English speakers who live in and work in settings where English is not used or even necessary, it certainly should not be required.  Any talk of English being the “official” language of the United States is nothing less than xenophobic nonsense.

However, there is much to be said about the practicality of learning and using English in contemporary American society.  Because of the great cultural plurality that makes up the United States milieu, it can be expected that there would be a common language to allow all of its disparate members to communicate.  English is as good a choice of any, and is in fact the best choice, if only because it is the language of academia and of commerce.  This means that in order for people to have equal access to education, and to be well-positioned to participate in the U.S. economy, it is important for them to learn English – and not just any English, but Standard American English (SAE). This is not about acquiescing to the prejudices of those who devalue other languages, but for the the obvious utility of knowing the language that undergirds American society.

Considering these things brought me to the idea of designating speakers of African-American Vernacular English as what Education calls “English Language Learners (ELLs), meaning that they should participate in programs teaching English as a second language (ESL).  Thirteen years ago, the Oakland Unified School District passed a resolution that said that “Ebonics” – coterminous with  AAVE – would be recognized as a language distinct from English, and that speakers of AAVE would be eligible for programs geared towards ELLs.  At that time – mind you I was eighteen years old, uneducated, and self-righteous, a dangerous combination – I dismissed the Oakland resolution as so much nonsense.  At that time, and well into my college years, I maintained that there was no such thing as AAVE, that it was little more than slang, or at my most thoughtful  that it was a variation of English that resulted from socioeconomic inequality.  For those reasons I thought it should not be recognized as a language, and I thought that doing so would only perpetuate a situation where African-Americans were not learning Standard American English.

It has been a frequent occurrence of late for me to come to a position in my adult life that is the complete opposite of my position in earlier years, and every time it has occurred I have been able to attribute the difference to the profound ignorance of my youth.  By this I do not mean that I “came around” to an “adult” way of thinking, but literally that I was ignorant – I simply did not have the information needed to even take a position on a given issue.  Such is the case again with AAVE and its recognition as a language.  Imagine my dismay to discover that my own attitudes towards AAVE were rooted in racism – a subtle form of racism that devalues something due to its association with a group of people.  Regarding AAVE not as a language, or worse, as some mutant or inferior variant, stems from the institutionalized idea that African-Americans and their culture are some perversion of humanity or American culture.

If you reject that idea outright, consider how you or others use the word “ghetto” – invariably to refer to something of inferior quality.  And although the term came into use first to describe ethnically homogenous neighborhoods – especially Jewish ones – in the common parlance of today, “ghetto” refers to low-income African-American neighborhoods.  So, if “ghetto” in some way equates to African-American or “black”, and it is used to describe something inferior, then what does that say to you?  Think about it carefully.  It is also similar to the current trend of referring to unfavorable things as “gay” – equating homosexuality with the negative.  AAVE, for its association with African-Americans, is regarded as inferior.

What I failed to understand thirteen years ago when the Oakland “controversy” first made headlines, is that recognizing AAVE as a language did not preclude African-American students learning Standard American English.  This was a misunderstanding shared by Jesse Jackson, who I mention here only for his questionable designation as an important “black leader”.

Jackson said:

“I understand the attempt to reach out to these children, but this is an unacceptable surrender, borderlining on disgrace. It’s teaching down to our children.”

[...]

“They cannot get a job at NBC or CBS or ABC unless they can master this language, and I’ll tell you they can master it if they are challenged to do so.”

These words indicate that Jackson – along with so many others – completely misunderstood the OUSD resolution.  Far from “surrender”, the resolution was empowering to African-American students in a number of ways. As stated by TESOL – the Teachers of English to Speakers of Other Languages:

TESOL affirms that the variety of English known as African American Vernacular English, Black English, Ebonics and sometimes by other names, has been shown through research to be a rule-governed, linguistic system, with itsown lexical, phonological, syntactic and discourse patterns and, thus, deserves pedagogical recognition.

The Board notes that effective educational programs recognize and value the linguistic systems that children bring to school. Their programs use these linguistics systems as an aid and resource to facilitate the acquisition of Standard American English. Research and experience have shown that children learn best if teachers respect the home language and use it as a bridge in teaching the language of the school and wider society. Likewise, if the children’s cultural and social backgrounds are valued, their self-respect and self-confidence are affirmed and new learning is facilitated.

Because language and thought are closely related, the achievement disparity between African-American and Euro-American students, sometimes falsely attributed to genetic differences, likely has more to do with the language disparity.  If African-American students are speaking and thinking in AAVE, but are being assessed academically in Standard American English, then it is only logical to expect that those students would be at a disadvantage – the same disadvantage faced by students of other languages.

Now here you may be thinking that it’s a stretch to compare African-American students who speak AAVE, which is by definition a different form of English, to students from other countries who speak languages completely unlike English.  To say that a student who only speaks Spanish is in the same position as the student who speaks AAVE would be a stretch, and so that’s not at all the point I am trying to make.

The fact – and this is perhaps the essential point of this essay -  is that different students, varying by background, economic status, and other factors, for their differences have different needs.  When it comes to language differences, educators recognize that English-language learners arrive in their classrooms at different levels of proficiency in speaking English.  Most school districts identify and categorize students within different proficiency levels, ranging from “pre-emergent” – meaning that they do not speak any English – to “proficient”, meaning that they have a mastery of English equal to that of native speakers.  There are varying levels between pre-emergent and proficient, such as basic, intermediate, and advanced.  Most districts test their ELLs to determine their level upon entering school, with the expectation that they show adequate progress and within a few years time reach English proficiency.

The Oakland resolution intended to take this same approach with its African-American students, that is, to ensure that they had access to those resources that amend the language disparity between AAVE and SAE.  It is a given that students with no knowledge of English have a special need for English acquisition, but what is taken for granted is that all students born and raised in America should speak and have mastered standard American English, an idea that completely ignores the cultural diversity of the United States, including the different languages that are spoken here.

Beyond recognizing AAVE as a separate language for theoretical purposes, I suspect that were students who speak AAVE as their first (or only) language to be tested for English proficiency the same way as students from other countries, we may find that many of them test below the “proficient” designation.  Ordinarily it is up to parents to tell the school districts whether or not their children will need ESL accommodations, but because those needs may not even recognized by the parents – let alone school administrators – many students are held to the proficient standard even where they are not proficient.  Where AAVE is dismissed as a mere dialect or slang, the needs around English language acquisition are ignored, and the achievement gap is attributed either to economic differences or genetic deficiency.

Thirteen years after the Oakland resolution, even though I find myself doing a 180 degree turn and supporting it instead of denouncing it, there are a few places where my thoughts still diverge, and where I still maintain some of my earlier positions.  The Oakland resolution stated that AAVE has a basis in the the languages of West Africa, particularly the Niger-Congo languages, and it is for that reason that it should be recognized as a separate language and not a mere dialect.  I found this argument difficult to accept thirteen years ago, and I have my doubts about it today, but the difference today is that I recognize it as an argument for linguists, and withdraw from taking any position.  I am convinced still that AAVE is rooted in socioeconomic inequality, in particular, the numerous institutional barriers between African-Americans and access to educational resources.  Starting with slavery, African-Americans were only expected and allowed to learn enough English to fulfill their roles as servants, and propagating into the present with the fact that African-Americans remain disproportionately in the lower economic class, which invariably means diminished access to quality education.

The difference in my perspective now is that I understand that the “hows” or “whys” of AAVE are irrelevant.  Only the “what” is important – that AAVE is a separate language.  Even were we to continue to regard AAVE as a mere dialect, it would not change the fact that a language barrier exists, and that resources need to be directed towards bringing AAVE-speakers to proficiency in Standard American English.

While I am not suggesting that making the necessary connection between AAVE and ESL is a one-shot solution for closing the achievemnt gap, I think that in recognizing and addressing the disparity, we can expect the same positive results shown by speakers of other languages.  To ignore the language barrier, and continuing to attribute achievement differences exclusively to economic – or worse, genetic – causes, is to deny students – and future citizens – an equal opportunity to succeed.

I mention all of this not merely to criticize America but to create for the reader a better understanding of my environment, as it is vital to understanding the thesis of this paper. The greatest exception to the American paradigm of cultural ignorance is discovered in the field of anthropology. Anthropology, as a study of all things human, necessarily has to give special treatment to culture, as it is one of the primary distinctions between us and the rest of the animal kingdom. Therefore, those of who study anthropology – particularly cultural anthropology – are also exposed to other cultures. Cultural anthropology, though, is not merely the study of culture, but provides an understanding of how people look at culture. This means that we come face to face with our own indoctrination of western ideology, and the ethnocentrism that almost automatically stems from it.

A group of Africans bobbing and swaying and waving their hands, their faces contorted as if with some inner crisis or flight of reason, may to those uninitiated in the ways of anthropological study seem to be performing a ridiculous act. Even I, as someone who styled himself as an “open-minded” person, would’ve dismissed the Giraffe Dance of the Dobe !Kung as nonsensical. Surely anyone with an understanding of biology would attest that no amount of dancing or inducing trances can heal the sick or wounded! “Anyone” in this case also means “anyone too ignorant to examine the matter more closely”. The American mind, as a western mind, has been indoctrinated with the physical sciences, which are ideologically separated from matters of spirituality. In the same way that Christian Science (e.g. praying for illnesses to be cured in lieu of receiving medical treatment) is seen as morally reprehensible, the western mind tells us that the Giraffe Dance doesn’t really work. As I said, though, it only takes a slightly deeper examination to expose the folly of this mentality. In his book, The Dobe !Kung, Richard Lee had the following to say:

“How effective are these healing practices? Are the !Kung n/um k’’ansi actually able to heal the sick by pulling out substances and by driving away the spirits of the dead? In thinking about this tricky question it is important to keep in mind that the !Kung healers operate with the same odds that medical doctors do: over 90 percent of all illnesses are self-limiting and would go away even if left untreated.”

While this statement doesn’t provide any greater credibility to the !Kung practices, it at least points out the illusions which allow the western mind to believe dogmatically in the effectiveness of western medicine. There is another argument to be made here as well. Rituals, customs, medical practices – indeed all aspects of culture – are transmitted memetically, that is by way of imitation, and there is a selective pressure placed upon them. If cultural practices prove unviable, i.e. “pointless” or “ineffective”, or worse if they cause harm to the people participating, then they are not likely to be passed on to subsequent generations. In that the !Kung have thrived for centuries, and in arguably more difficult conditions than any of us experience, they must be doing something right. In that there has been case after case of people being healed by their rituals suggests that it is just as credible as anything the west has to offer. These are the kinds of revelations that come with studying anthropology.

In the summer of 2005 I took a linguistic anthropology course which altered my perspective (I think now for the better) with regards to an issue on which I had been immovable. “Ebonics”, or African American Vernacular English (AAVE) – as it is more officially known – was a phenomenon that I attributed exclusively to the lower quality or lesser extent of education received by African Americans in the U.S. In order to hold that view, I had to have already relegated AAVE to an inferior linguistic status, to regard it not as a viable language, but as some kind of bastard variation of “proper” (i.e. Standard American) English. I was not completely wrong, but the mistake I made was confusing cause with correlation. The class taught me that while there was certainly a prevalence of AAVE amongst the lesser educated African Americans, the two were not inexorably linked. To assume that they were meant to dismiss anything spoken in AAVE has having no validity, and in effect meant I was invalidating and looking down upon a large group of people who in no way deserve it. In American society, this view is not uncommon. In her book, English with an Accent: Language, Ideology, and Discrimination in the United States, Rosina Lippi-Green states:

“There is a general unwillingness to accept the speakers [of Black English] and the social choices they have made as viable and functional. Instead we relegate their experiences and capabilities to spheres which are secondary and out of the public eye.”

It took until the very end of the class, but I eventually realized that I was stigmatizing African Americans in the same way that others in this country ridicule or speak condescendingly to foreigners simply because they use a different language. My crime was particularly grievous in that I have participated in the African American experience personally, have been myself stigmatized, ridiculed, and discriminated against for other reasons associated with my so called “blackness”, only to turn around and do the same to others.

This also showcases another way in which, before anthropology, I had been taking my world for granted. The experience of African-Americans in the United States is one that is unique amongst all minority experiences. Even were I a “white” person, I would’ve learned about this experience, at least superficially, through an American history class covering the Civil Rights Movement of the 1960s, or perhaps in a random conversation. It is literally impossible to live in America without being exposed to some minimal degree to the fact that African-Americans have been the subject of much discrimination – nevermind the 400 years of slavery. To what degree a person understands that experience, and whether or not they can internalize it, is another story altogether. As someone who is visibly of African descent, someone who would be referred to as “black” (although I personally reject the term), I have doubtless been the subject of prejudice and discrimination.

However, my reaction to this treatment has been different than one might expect. African-Americans are sometimes criticized by other groups (mostly Euro-Americans) as being “racially sensitive”, exaggerating their experiences with racism, or looking for it where it doesn’t really exist. The opposite has probably been true for me. Where instances of discrimination may have been obvious to others, chances are that I was oblivious. This became especially clear to me recently when I considered my repeat failures in pursuing women. By and large I have been attracted to Euro-American or European women, and where I was rejected, I assumed it was because of any number of reasons having to do with my appearance, personality, or character. I never considered that these women didn’t want me, or were apprehensive about dating me because of my “race”.

Recognizing this possibly brought to my attention the fact that I have been so unaware of how my racial identity in this country has shaped my experiences. The African-American experience is often one of feeling “put upon”, and justifiably so, but this is not a feeling I’ve ever had. Perhaps it was because of my relatively privileged upbringing, or because I was ostracized for other reasons by many African-Americans, but I never hardly ever felt a sense of kinship with them. As a result I blinded myself to the experiences we shared through America’s response to our ethnicity. Only a person so far “removed” could possibly stand on the wrong side of the line in perceiving AAVE, so as to regard it as qualitatively inferior. Upon this realization – again thanks to my anthropological studies – I could feel nothing but shame. It has made me realize that where my experience as an “African-American” was more privileged than the status quo, I should count my blessings, and be thankful for the advantages I’ve been given that many African-Americans are not.

So far I have made anthropologists out to be these great enlighteners, almost as if to imply that they are not subject to the same kinds of biases held by the average ethnocentric American. This is absolutely not the case. However, anthropology as a field, makes it mandatory that we examine that very problem of how our prejudices and preconceptions – no matter how subtle or unconscious – influence how we perceive other cultures. This is important particularly for anthropologists because any data filtered through bias is going to be tainted, and acknowledging this inevitability creates a balance. This acknowledgement allows those who read anthropological works to attempt to identify and separate the writer’s bias from the data, and also to recognize their own as they interpret the information presented.

A famous example of this comes from Margaret Mead’s study of the people of Western Samoa, and then Derek Freeman’s criticism of that study. Mead’s study claimed that a social taboo was placed on the sexuality of high class Samoan women, but that the rest were sexually liberal. Mead wrote Coming of Age in Samoa in 1928, a time when the feminist movement in the United States was only just getting underway. America, having been a puritanical nation, placed a stigma upon women’s sexuality, and word of the Samoan’s alleged promiscuity caused quite a stir. In 1983, Derek Freeman attacked Mead’s research, finding that some of her sources claimed to have lied to her. He suggested that Mead’s data was false, that the sexual taboos placed on women were universal. In turn, critics of Freeman pointed out his failure to recognize the influence of Christianity in Samoa – which changed their views of sexuality in general – or the very likely possibility that Samoan culture had changed drastically for other reasons in the 50+ years since Mead conducted her research.

Indeed, Mead’s examination of Samoan culture, and her advertisement of the women as sexually liberal may have been a response to what was going on in America in the ‘20s. Showing American women that it was acceptable to be sexually open in other cultures could have been intended to galvanize the feminist movement. It is at least true that her work was used to that very effect by feminists from that time forward. As for Freeman, he probably failed to separate himself from his Christian background – whether he participated in the tradition or was influenced indirectly through the medium of American enculturation. That he even felt the need to attempt to expose Mead’s claims as a fallacy shows that he went into his study with preconceptions about what was “right” or “wrong” with respect to women’s sexuality. Both of these cases highlight how anthropology as a field can bring to light the kinds of biases that all of us carry around with us in our daily perceptions of the world.

This kind of rigorous self-examination within the context of how we perceive others is important if we hope to give anyone their due, to acknowledge them for their actual merits, rather than the value we may ascribe to them (or take away from them) on the basis of our preconceptions. This understanding is another way in which anthropology has enlightened me, and forced me not to take things for granted, and not to assume that I already have all the answers about anything.

Up until very recently, I fashioned myself as an “anti-Christian”. Actually, I was anti-religion altogether, but had a particular loathing for Christianity, tracing back to a personal experience I had with a youth group evangelist. To make the story short, I’ll just say that his beliefs suggested the possibility that my mother, if she was not “saved”, was going to hell. From that point forward, everything “Christian” that I investigated was more or less for the purpose of discrediting the entire religion. Rather than examine the religion with some objectivity, I went in with the “foreknowledge” that it was all a bunch of nonsense, and therefore was automatically drawn to any material that supported my preconceptions.

Eventually, as anthropology better taught me to be objective, I realized that the kind of prejudice I felt towards Christianity and its adherents was no different than the sweeping generalizations other people often make with regards to an ethnic group or a nation. The view of the evangelist who sparked my hatred, I would learn, was the extreme minority, and even other Christians regularly condemn it. In a twist of ultimate irony, my mother would later become a born-again Christian, in effect negating the whole impetus for my ideological crusade. Today, while I am certainly still skeptical of religion, and indeed feel it is at the heart of many of the world’s problems, I realize that it is a matter of interpretation, that most religions are not fundamentally “wrong” or “evil”, just as no ethnic group necessarily has any inherent characteristics. Religion, as a branch of culture, is amorphous, subjective, and wildly diverse in its possibilities. Apart from this “enlightenment”, it has also been just a great burden lifted off of my shoulders to not carry around such hatred for anything.

Anthropology has also had the effect of forcing me to examine things more closely, and to consider different points of view before taking a stance myself. In another class, “People of Latin America: Cuba & Puerto Rico”, taught by Dr. Raquel Romberg, I was exposed to an ideology called “radical statehood”. When I read a piece by one of the primary advocates, I was galvanized, and quick to support the idea. The primary Puerto Rican dilemma is one of ambivalence when it comes to the country’s relationship to the United States. As a commonwealth, it has enjoyed many economic benefits, as well as citizenship for its people. However, they do not have the full advantages of being an American, such as the right to vote in U.S. elections. Those who support statehood seem obviously to be pushing for that ideal, but those who are against it are afraid of cultural assimilation – and in turn, a loss of the quintessential Puerto Rican identity.

I listened as some of my fellow classmates argued in favor of Puerto Rican independence and became frustrated, realizing that they were making that argument from an idealistic point of view. They appeared to not be considering what independence would mean to the majority of Puerto Ricans – namely a major economic pitfall. They would not be the ones living in poverty during the transition, neither would Puerto Rico’s own independentistas, the majority of which come from the upper class and academic elite. The radical statehood argument seemed to be the best of both worlds. Its advocates did not want cultural assimilation, but saw statehood as a necessary means to an end. As a state, Puerto Ricans would have the power to influence the decisions that directly affected their lives. They would be a part of the superpower machine that continues to influence not only the islands of the Caribbean, but the whole world. Its geographic separation, in my opinion, would continue to ensure the maintenance of an independent Puerto Rican identity, just as there are so many drastically different cultures within the continental U.S.

I wrote an essay on the Puerto Rican status question, and initially went in expecting to denounce the pro-Commonwealth and independent views, and support radical statehood, which just made perfect sense to me. I had already made up my mind about which side was “right” in the big debate. However, as I did the necessary research, and truly examined the status question from all sides, I realized that the issue was far more complicated than I could’ve imagined. On each side of the debate there seemed to be a schism between the politicians and their constituency. For reasons I was not able to fully explore, it seemed that the parties’ reasons for purporting their particular view, had very little to do with the welfare of the majority of Puerto Ricans, but independent and selfish agendas. Radical statehood remained a solid argument, and one that I still support ideologically, but the motives of the pro-statehood politicians are dubious, making me consider that there may be consequences that exceed any benefits that statehood would confer upon the Puerto Rican people. I went into my research quite presumptuously, expecting to come up with a solution, and in the end I was even less certain of where I stood. I consider this kind of multilateral understanding of a subject to be invaluable.

In conclusion, I would say that anthropology has taught me not to presume anything and to not take any point of view as necessarily “right” or “wrong”. It has taught me to be aware of how my personal biases color my perspective, and to be self-scrutinizing when I find myself judging another person, group, or nation on the basis of their “otherness”. I suspect that many people go through life only engaging in other cultures – even within their own nation – on a superficial level. We take it as a given that people are different – culturally, socially, economically – but do not truly acknowledge the depth of these differences. Instead we apply stigmas and stereotypes based on the bare minimum of information. Sometimes this information is altogether inaccurate. Be it in discussions of race, religion, culture, language, or any of the numerous areas covered by the field, anthropology provides valuable insights that help bridge the often unnecessary divides between people. For that reason especially, my experience with anthropology has been irreplaceable, and I would recommend that everyone at least dabble in the wealth of knowledge the field has to offer.