Culture (Dis?) Connect
It happened again today. I was in the park and my almost 2-year-old son "N" wanted to play with another little boy. Not a problem in itself, but the boy was Russian and his grandma only spoke Russian so I had to engage her to make the play happen. So I make small talk in my heavily accented Russian and then encourage N (in English) to share with her grandson, E. And this is where it starts. "He doesn't know Russian?" she asks me. "Nope," I say. "You don't think it's important to teach him?" she asks (obviously, she thinks it's important I teach him). I tell her my husband is American, I came here when I was three, and English is much easier for me so no N doesn't speak Russian and no it's not a priority for us. She lets it go and the boys play, but she does manage to throw in one more time later in conversation that her grandson (who is 4) is only learning English now because knowing Russian was very important to them and that he should always have that connection (I believe this was a pointed comment but that's OK). Overall, she wasn't a bad lady, N and E had a good time playing, and that's what really matters. Besides, I normally get much more judgy comments and moms who are relentless in continuing a convo I ended. And, usually, I end the convo really quickly (was being nice here as this was the boy's grandma and has set Russian views as she grew up there).
But here is the issue. I don't really understand what the big deal is and it's on my mind because the novels and stories I write do have a Russian-Jewish component that is relevant to the story. This is what I'm drawn to. Yet, continuing the language is not really important to me. I know my mother is not thrilled with this (and she claims she is but then she is quick to point out to everyone that N doesn't know Russian--like every random person cares). I don't feel connected to the language. I feel connected to the culture; the mahtroshka doll (the doll-within-a-doll-within-a-doll) always makes me sentimental and think of time spent with my grandparents. Stuffed cabbage and cutlets (made Russian style) are foods I make while I remember my grandmother's hands rolling the meat between her fingers. But the language itself? It doesn't evoke much; I don't feel that alone defines me. I taught N a few Russian words like "yazik" (tongue) and "myach" (ball) and he knows some nursery rhymes. I'll teach him Russian-Jewish traditions and show him old photographs my parents had and for me that's enough. Still, I can't help sometimes like I messed up in some ways. Like SHOULD I care? SHOULD the language matter? Am I the only one in a bilingual household who is raising her child to only speak English? And why am I made to feel like less of a parent because I choose to do this?
But here is the issue. I don't really understand what the big deal is and it's on my mind because the novels and stories I write do have a Russian-Jewish component that is relevant to the story. This is what I'm drawn to. Yet, continuing the language is not really important to me. I know my mother is not thrilled with this (and she claims she is but then she is quick to point out to everyone that N doesn't know Russian--like every random person cares). I don't feel connected to the language. I feel connected to the culture; the mahtroshka doll (the doll-within-a-doll-within-a-doll) always makes me sentimental and think of time spent with my grandparents. Stuffed cabbage and cutlets (made Russian style) are foods I make while I remember my grandmother's hands rolling the meat between her fingers. But the language itself? It doesn't evoke much; I don't feel that alone defines me. I taught N a few Russian words like "yazik" (tongue) and "myach" (ball) and he knows some nursery rhymes. I'll teach him Russian-Jewish traditions and show him old photographs my parents had and for me that's enough. Still, I can't help sometimes like I messed up in some ways. Like SHOULD I care? SHOULD the language matter? Am I the only one in a bilingual household who is raising her child to only speak English? And why am I made to feel like less of a parent because I choose to do this?