Being Fully Bilingual: a (Small) Curse and an (Enormous) Blessing

By Zoé Durand

“But she’s not a real French person,” a colleague chided me after I made an enthusiastic comment about my home country to a group of five Americans. His comment was understandable: having lived in the US for four years as an “expat” with my parents affords me to this day a perfect American accent.

Yet most of my formative experiences — school, friends, family, and work — were in France and the French language. Having no trace of an accent, I often feel the need to justify myself when I don’t understand an American reference or cue. In the land of freedom, I am considered blunt and slightly pessimistic. Even my body language is different: I have a wider range of facial expressions and I don’t smile as much as Americans. Making jokes and making friends is harder.

As a result, I feel a subtle disconnect, one that Americans can realize only from an occasional missed reference. In fact, I sometimes wish I had an accent. In short, while being undetectably bilingual is a coveted skill, it does come with some downsides.

I wanted to know how other people in the same position deal with this paradox. I interviewed a dozen GSB classmates who identify as “fully bilingual.” In the process, I realized that there were some common themes in all of our bilingual experiences. I realized we bilingual folks share the struggle to be understood fully, yet that we are also unified in our appreciation for the opportunities it brings, and all want to pass it down to our children.

The road to becoming fully bilingual begins very young

The road to bi-culturalism begins at a time, roughly before the age of 10, when we don’t yet decide much for ourselves.

Speaking for myself first, I moved to the US for four years at the age of 4 because my father’s company had been acquired by an American firm, and they asked him to move closer to the headquarters.

Touching on some of the stories of those I interviewed: Matan and Omri, two Israelis, lived in the US at various points with their parents who had professions that allowed some flexibility (emissaries and academics).

I also spoke to Megan, whose parents moved to the US from Beijing 15 years before she was born, spoke Mandarin at home and took yearly month-long trips to China in addition to attending “Chinese Sunday school,” where she was taught to read and write.

Paola did not set foot in the US until she was 18, but attended an international elementary school in Honduras where science was taught in English, and watched all her TV shows and movies in English.

Both languages are not interchangeable

For me, French is the language of emotion. It was in French that I was chastised by my parents, that I fought with my sister, that I said “I love you” for the first time. It was in French that I broke up with my first boyfriend as a teary-eyed teenager. It was in French that I celebrated getting into university. To this day, expressing my emotions in English doesn’t seem quite as heart-wrenching as saying the same thing in French.

Throughout my interviews, I discovered that it’s not just I: even though they speak perfectly, bi-natives often feel they can’t express themselves fully in only one language, or that one language is more tied to certain contexts.

Julia, who mostly grew up in Brazil with a Polish father and attended international schools in Asia, where she learned English, said, “Portuguese is a more flowery and emotional language. English is short, direct, transparent, and has objective sentences.”

Gus, who is Venezuelan and Canadian, said, “I can say ‘I love you’ in English, but it’s harder for me to say it in Spanish. ‘Te quiero’ is a step further. And ‘Te amo’ is … wow.”

Swathi, who spoke Tamil with close family members after she moved to the US at 8, finds that “[…] speaking in Tamil with people makes me feel uncomfortably close to them. For example, I know [a friend in the US] who went to school where I grew up in Chennai, but I can’t speak Tamil to her. In Tamil, I feel a sense of closeness with people that is uncomfortable with people outside of my family.”

Bi-natives must learn to switch cultural codes (including humor!)

Bi-natives must learn to switch between cultural codes, including their sense of humor. When I moved to the US at 25, even though my English was near-perfect, I found it difficult to chip in a joke in a group of rowdy Americans — often laughing to quotes from movies and music unknown to me. It seemed my French humor just didn’t translate, and the people I interviewed share this feeling.

Gonzalo, who grew up in a Mexican community in San Diego, says, “Mexican humor and English humor are very different. When I speak to Latins vs. Americans, I have to toggle between senses of humor. Americans use loud and reference-heavy jokes — it’s all about the shock value. In Spanish, humor is more one person telling a long, funny story while everyone is listening — it’s not very punchline-heavy. Also, humor in Spanish is ‘mean’ and ‘self-deprecating.’ People won’t hesitate to make fun of one another.”

Similarly, Omri says, “Israeli culture is very open: you can talk about everything. You can tell really dark jokes, and it’s not weird. You can push the limits as much as you want, as long as it’s humorous. In the US, it’s the total opposite — I feel less funny. It’s a very different type of humor — rhythm, timing. In Hebrew, the jokes are often directed at someone, mocking them. Perhaps we’ve got a bit of an invasive or aggressive humor, but I prefer it.”

Even body language is different between cultures

When I came to the US in 2017, I found that my facial expressions and hand gestures were different, even though my speech was not. The French — including myself — use a variety of facial expressions (the most famous being the “Gallic shrug”) that just don’t mean anything overseas. I also didn’t smile very much, especially upon meeting someone new. The French logic is: after all, you don’t know if you like them at that point, right? Over time, I discovered that it was helpful to adapt my body language, including smiling more. In short, non-verbal cues are different depending on the language you speak.

Veena, who grew up in the US speaking Telugu (a southern Indian language), says, “In India, you shake your head to say yes, and it’s the opposite in Western context. But I was never confused, I know how to adapt.”

Nonetheless, toggling between two very different cultures can be almost impossible. According to Megan, even though her Mandarin is no different from that of a native Chinese, people can tell from her body language that she is a foreigner: “I spent a summer in college working in Beijing and stayed with a family friend. She tried to explain why people could tell I was American through my ‘qihou’ — it’s a Chinese word that means literally ‘Western energy.’ I think that I’m more open in my body language. I dress differently, make bigger facial expressions, and am more relaxed. I tend to not cover my mouth as much when I laugh, which is considered cute in Chinese culture for women.”

Being a “chameleon” is hard at times

Overall, the biggest problem seems to be that “bi-natives” struggle to feel fully understood. They must bridge the gap between their cultures. According to Gonzalo, “​​it’s exhausting to go back and forth in a social event where [Mexicans and Americans] are present. I feel like I’m playing moderator between two worlds. I think it’s in my own head, but I feel partially like I need to make sure both sides are understanding each other and feel included in the conversation.”

According to Veena, “[Being bi-cultural] has made me feel like I can be a chameleon. At times I’m a bit annoyed by it, because people don’t see the full picture. Indians don’t see me as ‘Indian enough.’ Americans don’t think I’m really American at all. People always just see half of what I am.”

Despite all the struggles, we bilingual people want our kids to have that experience

I’ve talked a lot about the difficulties of being a “chameleon,” but that’s only part of the story. All bi-natives I interviewed agree with me that despite the challenges, they want to pass on both cultures to their children. According to Julia, “I definitely want my kids to speak Portuguese and English. I want young kids in Brazil, for the culture and for the language, and I want Portuguese as a foundation. I’m not too worried about the willpower that it would take; kids learn really well.”

Similarly, Gus says, “I don’t want Spanish to be ‘Dad’s language.’ I want it to be my kid’s language as well. Having spent years myself abroad changed so much for me. I think it’s amazing.”

As I am writing this article, I myself am convinced that I want my children to feel at home both in the US and in France.

Languages are a gift that we can give our children

In the end, learning other languages never comes easily. It may require paying for expensive language immersion programs or moving abroad for a number of years. Most of all, kids must learn the hard skill of coexisting in two cultures. Despite this, it opens so many doors, professional and personal. It has allowed me to speak to more people, to have different friends, to live in two countries, and overall I feel like I have more depth of understanding of different cultures. I know that my kids will share some of the difficulties I’ve had, but I couldn’t imagine not giving them this incredible gift.

Special thanks to all my GSB classmates that let me interview them for this article: Megan, Gonzalo, Veena, Gus, Matan, Omri, Swathi, Julia, Anna, Robin, Paola, and Juan.