Love's Linguistic Labyrinth: Navigating a Bilingual Bond
Imagine falling in love, but not just with the person—with the very essence of their language. My future husband, a Spanish speaker, expresses his love for me as "que está enamorado de mí." It's a subtle difference, but one that reveals a unique perspective on love. In Spanish, love seems to emanate from the beloved, a gravitational pull towards the other.
Spanish philosopher José Ortega y Gasset, in his book "Estudios Sobre El Amor," describes love as a centrifugal force, a movement towards the beloved. It's a captivating idea, and one that resonates deeply with my own experience.
When I fell in love with Atza, I felt a vertigo-inducing rush. Our relationship developed slowly, through philosophical conversations and salsa nights, until we finally started dating. The emotional intensity was overwhelming. I felt like I was flying within my own body, yet I was also constantly stumbling and banging into things. It was a dizzying mix of being in love with and of him.
Love is challenging in any language, but in a bilingual relationship, it takes on a whole new dimension. The act of self-translation adds an extra layer of complexity. When I met Atza's parents, I was terrified they wouldn't understand my accent, and I worried about how I would present myself. Despite my fears, we've built a strong relationship, but misinterpretations still occur. Language barriers can lead to hilarious misunderstandings, like when I confused "de pinta" with painting.
The language divide widens further when my parents visit. Despite their efforts with Duolingo, they don't speak Spanish, and Atza doesn't understand English. It's a reminder of the power dynamics at play. English's global dominance and the value placed on American passports create an uneven playing field. Atza hasn't been able to visit my hometown due to stringent visa regulations, while my family and friends can easily come to Mexico City.
In our relationship, we navigate these power dynamics, always on my partner's home field, but in broader terms, we're on mine. It's a constant balancing act, especially in the current political climate, where Trump's America and racist gestures towards Mexico and Mexicans exacerbate these differences.
Communication is key to a healthy marriage, and yet, it's often the most challenging aspect. Ortega writes, "Un amor no se puede contar: al comunicarlo se desdibuja o volatiliza." Love cannot be recounted without losing its essence. It's a linguistic challenge we all face.
Love requires us to step outside ourselves, to coalesce with another. It's a journey from our own person to that of another, breaking down barriers. Atza and I have created our own language, with inside jokes and private words. But we've also developed a shared vocabulary that transcends words. In those silent moments, a glance, or an embrace, we express our love without saying a word.
Love in a bilingual relationship is a beautiful, complex dance, a constant reorientation and a balancing act. It's a reminder that love knows no borders, and language is but one of many bridges we can build.
