For many white people, it is very easy not to identify with this type of fragility. It’s tempting to think of Karens and old white guys as a unique brand of white people.
We don’t bat an eye when men say they hate their wives, and in fact, we sometimes expect them to do so. How are these roles – the nagging wife and hen-pecked husband – so ingrained in our culture? And why do we find them funny?
Time is an abstract and nebulous concept – it’s not something we can see, and its nature is difficult to physically determine. Because of this, much of the language we use to describe time relies on metaphor. While these metaphors are typically consistent within a language, they tend to differ cross-linguistically.
Most of the terms we consider “Gen Z slang” come from Black culture, from both African American English and Ballroom Speak.
Although it may not be the subject of many films, there is actually a lot to explore when looking at how language is represented onscreen, especially in the realm of translation.
Through stuttered sobs, I thanked him for being a good grandad. He snorted; “I haven’t done much”. I said that he had, trying to articulate through my running nose and gasping breath how much he had done for me, but in the moment, I couldn’t.
Every comma I added, split infinitive I repaired, hung preposition I cushioned in noun phrases was proof that I was articulate. Articulate was the last few marks on my English assignments, the judge’s feedback from the debates I won, the glowing words printed on my report card. To be articulate was to be intelligent. To be worth listening to.
These disadvantages are linguistic, cultural, and invisible to those who make up a cultural hegemony. Without tearing down these barriers, our justice system cannot serve true justice.
The sound of your voice is shaped by the geography of your mouth, the length of your vocal folds, the exact way you place your tongue. The way you pronounce words is a lineage of the accents and affectations you grew up hearing.
A, E, I, O, U… and sometimes Y. How can it be that the relatively exclusive set of vowels has a member that only sometimes counts? Is y a consonant, or a vowel? Is “rhythm” really the longest word without a vowel? And, if y is a vowel, perhaps we should ask the most apt…