Losing a Language

Losing a Language

I was born in Canada to hearing parents. Arabic was my first language. When I was diagnosed with hearing loss at three years old, an audiologist advised my parents to stick to only one language when they spoke to me. The language was English. By the time I was seven, I had no recollection of the Arabic language.

Making the choice to speak to me in only English was one of my parents’ biggest regrets.

At my family gatherings, everyone is cheerfully conversing with each other in Arabic, and I’m sitting there looking to my mom for a quick translation. I grew to resent that audiologist’s decision. I felt like an outsider in my own family.

But let’s backtrack for a bit.

Why only one language?

When I was diagnosed with hearing loss, my speech was not as clear as it should have been for my age. My parents were told that speaking more than one language will be difficult for me, as well as affect the development of my speech and the way it sounds – especially as I went through Auditory Verbal Therapy (AVT).

I was going to be raised in Canada, so it made sense that the chosen language would be English.

Since then, my parents spoke to me in English, and I lost touch with the language that I learned first.

Good and bad things came from that decision.

The Result

My entire family is middle eastern, and all of my aunts, uncles and cousins speak Arabic fluently. Like I said earlier, every family gathering was a mix of Arabic and English phrases being thrown around. I tried to participate as much as I could but I did feel lost at times.

During those moments, especially when I visited my grandmother and aunt in Nazareth, I resented that I struggled so hard with a language that used to be second nature for me. I resented that I couldn’t communicate with my family to the fullest extent. I resented that I had to depend on my mom to translate for me.

That was the bad part.

But what about the good?

What if I had the chance to change that decision?

If I somehow had the choice to go back, and tell my family:

“Don’t listen to the audiologist. Speak to me in both languages. It’ll be okay.”

I wouldn’t do it.

As much as I had so much pent up resentment over the decision, I realized the good that came from it.

I really want to say that it would have been fine if they spoke to me in two languages, that children can easily absorb a lot of information when they are young because their brain is in a constant state of unconscious learning, however any research I found on this was for hearing children. This wasn’t proven for children with hearing loss. As much as I could argue that I would have been fine, there was always a niggling doubt in the back of my mind.

What if the audiologist was right?

I wouldn’t do it because if I did, I would be risking a lot. Maybe I would not have been able to talk as well, or write stories or express my thoughts in the way I do now.

I did resent it when I was younger, but now that I’m older, and realize that I can change what I have control over – what can stop me from trying to learn a new language? It might be harder for me than for hearing people, but it’s not impossible.

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