Languages have been one of my longest-running passions. At this point in my life, I speak five and have dabbled in at least three more. All of my languages are special to me in their own ways, and they have all enriched my life immensely.
However, over the past half year or so, I have noticed something interesting: A slight hesitation. In particular, a hesitation that follows whenever I am asked what my first language is.
In theory, the answer is easy, and it has been easy for most of my life. Usually, when someone enquires about your “first” language, they want to know which was the first language you learned when you came into existence. If you’re a bit more old-fashioned, you may also refer to this as someone’s “mother tongue” although that term has been viewed unfavourably for various reasons by the linguistic community for quite some time now.
In my case, the answer to the question “What is your first language?” has for the longest time been: Luxembourgish. Luxembourgish is the language of my parents, the language I was taught by them growing up, and the first language I used to express my experience of the world in abstract terms.
Luxembourgish is a solid answer to that question. It often sparks interesting conversations, depending on the person who asked the question, although admittedly, it generally results in the same Q&A dance every time: Oh, so it’s basically German? No, not really. Oh, so it’s more like French? Also no. Oh I see, it’s a bit like Dutch then? No… We usually settle for the classic “It’s related to German but with loads of French loan words,” although, to let you in on a little secret, no Luxembourger is ever happy with that answer. We just tell you that because we realise it’s pointless and uninteresting to elaborate any further.
From what I’ve discussed so far, there isn’t really any debate to be had. Luxembourgish is the language I first learned as a toddler, so that’s that settled then, right?
Well, the thing is, when we talk about our “first language” we tend to mean more than just “the first language we’ve picked up.” There’s a certain sentiment that is usually connected to it.
Our “first language” is typically the language that feels closest to our heart. It is the language that we feel allows us to express our true selves. Because we don’t need to think about vocab or grammar or any of those other bits and bobs that make languages such tricky buggers to pick up. Our first language just flows right out of us. We don’t need to pay attention to its rhythm because the rhythm of our first language is the rhythm we live our lives by naturally.
For a long time, Luxembourgish did fulfil this role for me. Even though, like most children in Luxembourg, I grew up basically trilingual, Luxembourgish was always the “sigh-of-relief” language, the “Oh-thank-God-they-speak-Luxembourgish-here” language. Other languages were fun, adventurous, and exciting. Luxembourgish was comfort.
However, this started to change about four years ago. At that time, I had decided to end my university studies of German literature and linguistics prematurely and switch to a two-year intensive training course to become a state-certified German <> English translator instead.
While there were many reasons for becoming a translator, one of the main ones was that I had started to realise just how much I had been missing the English language.
I first started learning English during my third year in secondary school. I got incredibly lucky and had some absolutely fantastic English teachers over my five remaining years before graduation. However, even though English was among my strongest subjects at school, I had been learning German for almost all my life by this point, it was the language I had the greatest command over, and I had even started writing my first poetry collections in German. It seemed at the time evident to me that I should pursue studies in this language in Germany.
But while I was busy ignoring the early signs of burnout, English played an increasingly important role in my life. While the German section of my bookshelf eventually stagnated, I had to start throwing out books to make room for the ever-growing section of English books. When I first got into podcasts, it didn’t even cross my mind to listen to anything other than English ones. Sometime in 2018, I even switched the system language of my smartphone to English.
This development has only ever accelerated after I decided to become a translator. When I look at my life today, there is no way around admitting that I practically live it through the English language. All of my electronics are set to English. Whenever I get a new appliance, I instinctively look for the English section of the manual. My web banking and even the e-government platform we use in Luxembourg to submit documents digitally: Everything is set to English. I dream in English. I talk to myself in English. I think in English. When I stub my toe, I swear in English (sometimes in British slang, sometimes American, depending on how I feel that day). I love the sounds of English and whenever I speak English, I feel connected to myself in a way that I just don’t get with other languages – not even Luxembourgish.
I love the way English cascades out of me, I love its sounds and the silly ways in which I can turn and twist them around. I love the particular type of humour that is so particular to the English language. I love the sayings, phrases, and proverbs of English.
The truth is, at this point in my life, I have simply felt so much more in English. I have been so much more in English. Whenever I speak it, I know that I’m there. Whenever I speak it, I am home.
English was the fourth language I learned, but in so many other ways, it has become my first language. And in a way, I think that’s a beautiful thing: The fact that your first language, your heart language, does not necessarily need to be the one you are randomly assigned at birth. It can be one that is out there somewhere, that you will eventually meet and – even if you don’t instantly realise it – that will change your life in ways you could never have possibly imagined.
just thoughts 