Language Colonialism, the Erosion of Local Embeddedness, and the Standardization of Individual Identity
Nov 26, 2024 — by Gengyan Tang
“So when the generation that followed mine stopped speaking Cree, half their sense of humour disappeared. It got watered down by the English language.” Highway believes his native language, Cree, is the fastest and most fascinating language in the world. He says it’s driven by a trickster god, making it even more vibrant and joyful. However, as younger generations stop learning Cree, they might lose some of that humor. Highway highlights the profound impact that language—and the myths intertwined with it—has on people’s worldview and lives.
Highway’s perspective resonated deeply with me, as it prompted me to further reflect on the nuanced relationship between language, culture, and identity. In this paper, I will draw on my own memories, dialect, regional characteristics, and sense of identity to explore this relationship, outlining a similar experience to that described by Highway—one of linguistic aggression that not only entails the suppression of a language but also signifies the erosion of my local embeddedness and the standardization of my identities.
Memory: My Hometown, Life, and Dialect
Before delving into the discussion, I would like to briefly introduce my hometown—Zigong, located in southwestern China. This city is quite unique. Although its dialect is classified as Southwestern Mandarin, it stands out for its distinctive retroflex consonants (which are absent in other Southwestern Mandarin dialects), giving it a fun, humorous, and “amusing” quality. Zigong is famous for the large-scale discovery of dinosaur fossils and its rich salt resources, which have historically attracted wealthy merchants. People from all over the country have settled here, contributing to the formation of its unique dialect (known as Zigong Dialect).
I spent 18 years of my life here. In those 18 years, language has had a significant role in shaping my personality. Unlike Mandarin, Zigong Dialect contains many reduplicated sounds (e.g., “火撒撒”, meaning someone who gets things done quickly and efficiently) and a variety of colloquial expressions (e.g., “毛线”, which literally means “yarn” in Mandarin, but in Zigong Dialect refers to nonsense or idle talk). These humorous language elements and slang contribute to the bold, straightforward, and optimistic personality of the people here.
Mandarin vs. Zigong Dialect: The Erosion of Local Embeddedness through Language Colonialism
Dialect is like a piece of clothing I wear; when I leave my hometown, I carry it with me. But when I return, it feels like it’s been pressed out of shape. In 2014, I left my hometown to attend university in the provincial capital. Four years later, when I returned, everything had changed. With the Chinese government’s strong promotion of Mandarin, the dominant culture in schools became one that spoke Mandarin. The closer one’s pronunciation was to the standard, the more likely they were to be praised by teachers, even rewarded with honors.
This culture of rewarding language proficiency not only allowed Mandarin to quickly gain an advantage over the Zigong Dialect (which I refer to as language colonialism), but it also eroded local embeddedness. When I entered high school and opened their history textbooks and test papers, all the local cultural knowledge I had once known was gone, replaced by national historical narratives that everyone across the country was familiar with. The legend of the Great Roc (in Zigong, the Roc could spread its wings, fly across mountains and rivers, and face any challenge without bowing down, bravely pursuing its freedom), which I had vividly remembered, was nearly forgotten by the next generation.
I also want to emphasize that the erosion of local embeddedness through language colonialism is not sudden but gradual. While some young people in Zigong try to resist the dominance of Mandarin—such as by using the Zigong Dialect in their daily lives—I have noticed subtle changes in them. They no longer use certain local slang (e.g., “卡找腰”, meaning to stir up trouble); instead, they use Mandarin words, but with a Zigong Dialect. This form of colonization is almost unconscious and difficult to pinpoint, yet it happens nonetheless.
“I Want to Fit In with Them, So I Don’t Speak Zigong Dialect Anymore”: Language Colonialism and the Standardization of Individual Identity
Some argue that language colonialism leads to the loss of identity among the colonized. However, from my own experience, the colonization of the Zigong Dialect by Mandarin has not caused people in Zigong to lose their individual identities. Instead, it has replaced their sense of local identity with a broader, national narrative—shifting their identification as “Zigong people” to that of “Chinese people”—while also reshaping their personalities in the process.
In 2019, during a conversation with my nephew, he resolutely refused to speak Zigong Dialect. He told me that using the dialect at school would lead to mockery for being “backward,” and he would be ostracized by his classmates. “I want to fit in with them, so I don’t speak Zigong dialect anymore,” he explained. His sense of identity was framed as “Chinese” (a broader national identity), rather than “Zigong person,” because only in this way could he feel a sense of belonging to his community. In him, I no longer saw the humor, playful banter, or the optimistic spirit that our dialect once conveyed, even in the face of life’s difficulties.
I wasn’t sure how to respond. It was only after reflecting on the situation that I began to understand, much like Highway’s experience, that our dialects shaped the distinct personalities in both of us and formed our different worldviews. However, with the dominance of Mandarin sweeping across the region, my dialect has lost its vibrancy. The values it once celebrated, the local embeddedness it represented, and the identity it fostered have all been replaced by the standardized national culture and identity. And now, all I can do is repeat my dialect, over and over again.
About the author: Gengyan Tang, MA, is a PhD student in the Werklund School of Education at the University of Calgary. His research interests include research integrity and academic integrity.