Growing up the child of a Japanese mother and an American father, there were always two languages spoken in the household. English with my dad and siblings, Japanese with my mother. And, Japanese between my parents.
In order to improve my Japanese, my parents enrolled me in Japanese school, which I attended every Saturday until we moved to Japan when I was 9. Once there, I took Japanese classes at my international school and joined a Japanese gymnastics club, the latter of which immensely improved my speaking skills.
Between the ages of 13-24, however, my Japanese usage waned. This can be attributed to spending most of that time in the U.S. and not being in as immersive of an environment.
Still, I thought my Japanese was fine. Sure, my kanji (Chinese character) skills were not great, but my listening and speaking abilities were definitely at a fluent level.
That is, until I moved back to Japan in 2018. I got a job at a recruiting company and was thrown into the Japanese business world. I quickly realized that no, my Japanese was actually not great. In fact, it was poor.
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I may be half Japanese but I felt completely foreign.
Even administrative tasks like opening a bank account or reading my apartment contract were a struggle. And keigo (the honorific form), something I had been actively avoiding my entire life, was no longer escapable. I had to quickly learn how to speak and write in what seemed like a completely new language. Osewa ni natteorimasu (loosely, “I am indebted to you”) became an everyday language.
In the professional world, it also seemed that the standards of Japanese fluency were much higher. Although most people would probably consider being able to speak a second language comfortably as being bilingual, it seemed that wasn’t enough in Japan. Most of the jobs I was recruiting for required near-native level Japanese. Perhaps it was more my own insecurities than reality, but it felt like you could not be considered a “true” Japanese speaker until you could speak, write, and read at a native level. And that is not easy, given the over 50,000 Chinese characters one must learn.
I felt like my entire version of reality up until that point had been flipped on its head. How could I have possibly thought I was bilingual?
This made me realize that perhaps our definitions of “bilingual” are different.
There are actually two different types of bilingualism.
1. Compound bilingualism (or additive bilingualism): When a child learns two languages simultaneously within the same context. They can switch between languages at will. (e.g. speaking two languages with bilingual parents at home)
2. Coordinate bilingualism (or subtractive bilingualism): When a child learns two languages in separate contexts and maintains separation after learning both. (e.g. learning one language at home and another at school.) There are two subgroups as well:
Coordinate: when the two languages are equally used or important
Sub-coordinate: when one language dominates the other.
According to these definitions, I am a compound bilingual, but also a sub-coordinate bilingual. Is it possible to be a mix of different categories?
Beyond the language, there was another big aspect that I hadn’t considered until this point either.
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No matter how great your vocabulary or writing skills are, you will not be fully bilingual until you understand the culture, too. This is especially true in a country like Japan, where immigration and diversity are still a work in progress.
And for me, a half-Japanese woman who has spent most of her life either abroad or in an international environment, my understanding of Japanese slang, nuance, and culture, is mediocre at best. I can, of course, keep up with a conversation and offer my own thoughts, but I would not be able to pick up on the subtle pop culture references or latest slang words.
I’ve come to realize that “bilingual” is a very complex term and means something different to everyone. All ‘bilinguals’ have different strengths, whether that be reading, writing, speaking, or listening. This (sorry to be dramatic) ‘identity crisis’ is something that many bilingual people face, and keeping an open mind is important. Life is a constant work in progress, and language is no different.
Truly bilingual people-- those who are native in two languages-- are unicorns. Maybe one day I will get there. But for now, I have about 40,000 more kanji to learn.
Fascinating article! And very relatable to bilinguals. You gave words to feelings I wouldn't have been able to explain about the struggles of juggling two languages growing up.
Great article! So many places where I can relate, but haven't seen an article as well put as this one. The difference between coordinate and sub-coordinate was an eye-opener by itself, but through your writing you made it clear how difficult it is to assess whether a person is a coordinate or sub-coordinate. This is probably a point rarely talked about but like you said, the realization of your style will layout in front of you, the stepping stones into true bilingualism. Thanks for the great article