Introduction
Recent research on translingualism frequently describes translingual participants as ‘playful’ (Chapter 1). Translinguals are portrayed as playful at heart, feeling the comfort of a full participation in communication rather than being inhibited by the idea of confinement to the use of one specific language. The study of playfulness in translingualism has largely concentrated on translingual users’ ebullience, with a focus on vivacity rather than the insecure realities that may exist behind the curtains. This chapter, hence, aims to overcome this research gap and expand the current critical discussions in translingualism research by moving beyond the ‘playfulness’ of translingual users to instances where their well-being and integrity are at stake. We want to emphasise that when translingualism is enacted in specific settings, it may lose its playfulness as it embodies the concept of ‘precarity’. We explore and discuss the concept of ‘precarity’ through two main lenses.
First, translingualism may be linked with precarious working conditions (Reference Dryden and DovchinDryden & Dovchin, 2022) particularly for south-to-north migrants or international students who are situated in the Anglophone world. We highlight migrants arriving from Global South contexts (e.g. Africa) to Global North contexts (e.g. Australia) because these migrants are coming from emerging economies to wealthy developed economies. Our conceptualisation of the Global South transcends geopolitical definitions, but is more in line with ‘epistemologies of the South’ (Reference SantosSantos, 2016). Reference SantosSantos (2016) has argued that we can also find the South in the (geopolitical) North in those spaces where knowledges are marginalised and people struggle to gain visibility. Reference CanagarajahCanagarajah (2018) reported the prevalence of translingual precarity in many workplaces where even skilled translinguals experience unstable and insecure working conditions. Finding work can also be challenging, with certain translingual repertoires viewed as a hindrance rather than an asset by prospective employers (Reference Flubacher, Duchêne and CorayFlubacher, Duchêne, & Coray, 2017). Precarity in language can lead to unemployment and limited job opportunities for translinguals entering the work force in the new host country. Once in the workplace, this precarity continues with migrants experiencing de-skilling or lack of recognition and ultimately denigration by their employers due to their translingual and transcultural backgrounds (Reference Li and CampbellLi & Campbell, 2009; Reference PillerPiller, 2016).
Second, translingualism can become a ‘safe space’ for many translinguals. Translingual safe space does not have to be exclusively created by translingual repertoires but rather co-constructed by translingual identities who share similar space (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2022). Sharing the awareness of translingual practice provides migrants from south to north with the opportunity to voice their precarious experiences and working conditions in a safe space. They can better manage and negotiate their way through this precarity as a result (Reference Dryden, Tankosić and DovchinDryden et al., 2021). An emotionally safe space can be co-constructed through any number of spontaneous emotions which can be expressed in different paralingual ways such as crying, yelling, cheering and laughing (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2021). As translingual speakers acquire an understanding of the precarious nature of their new context, they come to realise that translingual spaces are essential if they are to create a new narrative of survival rather than victimhood. Co-constructing an emotionally safe space for the expression and negotiation of emotions using translingual repertoires can help with the regulation of negative linguistic and cultural experiences in the new host society (Reference LangLang, 2019). Furthermore, translingual speakers can more easily navigate meanings and diverse identities through their shared linguistic, cultural and/or ethno-racial diversities as they nurture free expression, empathy, positivity and inclusivity through translingual representation (Reference OllerheadOllerhead, 2019; Reference Fang and LiuFang & Liu, 2020; Reference Back, Han and WengBack et al., 2020).
Beyond Translingual Playfulness
Translingualism shifts the focus from individual languages to language as a flexible and fluid practice, characterised by the use of diverse linguistic and semiotic resources (Reference CanagarajahCanagarajah, 2013). It shares this ethos with other similar notions such as translanguaging in education (Reference García and LiGarcía & Li, 2014), metrolingualism (Reference Pennycook and OtsujiPennycook & Otsuji, 2015), transglossic language practices (Reference Dovchin, Pennycook and SultanaDovchin et al., 2017), polylingual languaging (Reference JørgensenJørgensen, 2008) and fragmented multilingualism (Reference BlommaertBlommaert, 2010). The aim of translingualism is to portray the situated nature of human interaction as it transgresses boundaries set by monolingual ideologies. Translingual practice is not necessarily characteristic only for users of multiple linguistic repertoires, but for ‘monolinguals’ as well, as they also (un)intentionally negotiate their available resources. We define monolinguals as those who have the active knowledge of only one language as well as those who exhibit a monolingual-as-a-norm mindset (Reference EllisEllis, 2008). As Wiley and Garcia note (Reference Wiley and García2016, p. 57): ‘Monolinguals often operate within an ideologically-driven language policy of deliberate monolingualism.’ However, ‘monolinguals’ rarely develop an awareness of their translingual practice as they assign their linguistic and semiotic resources to a single linguistic code (Reference Jørgensen, Karrebæk, Madsen and MøllerJørgensen et al., 2011). Having an awareness of translingual practice generates translingual identities which, in addition to translingual repertoires, are also shaped by one’s ethno-racial, cultural, religious and other background characteristics (Reference TankosićTankosić, 2022). Although translingual identity and translingual practice may appear as playful, they are in fact precarious, as they run the risk of being unconsciously marginalised by those unaware of translingualism or deliberately so by those who are aware of such practices.
The playfulness of translingual users as creators of lively and innovative content is particularly visible in online settings such as social media (Reference LiLi, 2018), or even in education settings such as classrooms (Reference García, Johnson and SeltzerGarcia et al., 2016). In social media environments, translinguals are often portrayed as inherently playful as they actively engage with the content and discourse they co-construct (Reference Leppänen, Pitkänen-Huhta, Piirainen-Marsh, Nikula and PeuronenLeppänen et al., 2009); they actively participate in developing and popularising new meanings, linguistic expressions and communicative features in their online social practice (Reference LiLi, 2018) and they are innovative and critical when it comes to their translingual practices. For instance, Reference Li and ZhuLi and Zhu (2019) use the term ‘tranßcripted play’ to refer to translingual practice on Facebook. This form of ‘playful subversion’ is practised, for example, by Chinese social media users as they manipulate conventional patterns of Chinese character formation and use visual portrayal, iconicity, sound, font and scripts as a source of entertainment (on the latter, see also the early work by Reference CrystalCrystal, 1998). In this way, they take a step away from conventional writing and, by bending and overcoming prescribed rules and norms, they create an ‘alternative reality’ (Reference CookCook, 2000). Such translingual playfulness is also evident in places in the Asian peripheries such as Mongolia and Bangladesh (Reference Dovchin, Pennycook and SultanaDovchin et al., 2017). Youth in these contexts use playful and humorous teasing and adopt abuses, oaths, curses, and expletives to disrupt the social norms of politeness following Bakhtin’s idea of dialogical voices (Reference BakhtinBakhtin, 1981; Reference Blackledge and CreeseBlackledge & Creese, 2009). These social media users manipulate popular cultural resources through playful expressions and transgress Mongolian and Bangladeshi politeness norms by teasing each other in an unfettered and unrestrained manner (Reference Dovchin, Pennycook and SultanaDovchin et al., 2017).
‘Playful talk’ is also popular in translingual classroom settings and it entails ‘a wide range of verbal activities and routines, including teasing, joking, humour, verbal play, parody, music making, chanting that can emerge in learners’ talk’ (Reference Lytra, Martin-Jones, de Mejia and HornbergerLytra, 2008, p. 185). Translingual practice allows students to bring and incorporate various linguistic resources into their lessons. These linguistic resources are often multimodal (e.g. drawings and gestures) or expressive (e.g. word choice, laughter, joyful voice, voice tone); they include diverse pedagogical practices and objectives, as well as personal experiences and interests. Such practice helps to dispel, for example, the myth of the English language monopoly in English education (Reference Tai and LiTai & Li, 2021).
As noted above, overall, the study of playfulness in the scholarly literature on translingualism has predominantly focused on the exuberance of translinguals, usually paying greater attention to vivacity than to the precarious realities that they experience in their classrooms or online environments. In this chapter we engage with the theme of this volume by showing that translingualism should be considered beyond its ‘playfulness’. As a form of ‘precarity’, there should also be a focus on the well-being of translinguals.
Translingualism and Precarity
In the study which follows in this chapter, we look at female academics in Australia who expanded their linguistic repertoires with English resources later in life and thus have a translingual background. Their translingual identity informs their translingual practice, which results in creative mixes and meshes of diverse linguistic and semiotic resources to achieve meaning in their interactions. The creativity and playfulness they exhibit through their translingual practice, as well as the rich linguistic repertoires that underlie it, rarely become an asset, but more often than not constitute a barrier to successful employment and adequate working conditions (Reference Dryden and DovchinDryden & Dovchin, 2022). In fact, previous studies showed how the translingual practices of south-to-north migrants are often judged and stereotyped as deviant by the dominant society, making their social and professional environments uncomfortable and discriminatory (Reference Dovchin and DrydenDovchin & Dryden, 2022a; Reference Tankosić and DovchinTankosić & Dovchin, 2021; Reference Tankosić, Dryden and DovchinTankosić et al., 2021). However, translingual practice may not be the only reason why south-to-north migrants experience marginalisation in their host society: it could be something as general as their translingual identity which is revealed once they start to speak. The themes that emerge in this study are based on previous findings as well as on experiences and potential needs of south-to-north female academics in Australia.
This chapter tries to highlight the fact that when migrants’ translingual practice expands beyond the classroom or social media, the playfulness may be judged differently. It does so by breaking away from the dominating focus on exuberant scenes of ‘playfulness’ that have dominated the literature on translingualism. This is in line with a critique of global capitalism and its effects on linguistically and culturally marginalised communities (Reference Flores and ChaparroFlores & Chaparro, 2018, p. 379). A solely linguistic analysis of translingual practices often fails to account for the reality of a high level of racialisation of translingualism and, as such, translingualism needs to be framed from a ‘materialist anti-racist perspective’ (Reference FloresFlores, 2019, p. 56). Translingualism should not be merely associated with globalisation and celebration of diversities without a recognition of the increased immobility and discrimination experienced by translingual communities as well as the precarity which emerges in the interaction between language, politics and global capitalism (Reference PennycookPennycook, 2015). In this study, we view ‘precarity’ in translingualism via two different lenses – as a source of precarious employment conditions and as a safe space for the expression of precarity.
For many translingual users, who use English as an additional repertoire, translingualism may become the main source of precarious employment conditions. They are more likely to find themselves in a wide spectrum of perilous conditions and situations in the labour market in the host society. More specifically, translingual migrants are often faced with unemployment, limited job opportunities (Dovchin, 2019; Reference Park and BernsteinPark & Bernstein, 2008) and de-skilling (Reference Li and CampbellLi and Campbell, 2009; Reference PillerPiller, 2016). Most often, the reason behind this is the implicit, as well as explicit, requirement to live and work by the rules, policies and practices that are determined and perpetuated by the Global North (Reference Benson, Benson and ReindersBenson, 2011; Reference De Costa, Gajasinghe, Ojha and Rabie–AhmedDe Costa et al., 2022; Reference SandwallSandwall, 2010). For example, linguistic preference for native-like competence in the labour market often forces translinguals to follow the monolingual and homogenous norms set by Anglophone societies (Reference PachecoPacheco, 2018). Hence, translinguals’ linguistic repertoires become subjected to negative evaluation against locally acclaimed normative English, with their translingual skills rejected and devalued. However, the need to earn an income gives them no option but to remain in precarious work conditions developed through institutional policies and practices (Reference CanagarajahCanagarajah, 2018).
Consequently, many skilled translingual migrants confront ‘the paradoxes of migration’ (Reference Firkin, Dupuis and MearesFirkin et al., 2004, p. 46). While they might be offered employment on skilled work visas subsequently leading to permanent residency based on their professional competencies (if all their paperwork is in order), they are nevertheless often confined to the lower rungs of social and professional hierarchies. Their background is tainted and may be used to discriminate against them (Reference Dovchin and DrydenDovchin & Dryden, 2022b). Because of their translingual English skills, their professional work experience may be deemed less valuable than that of their monolingual co-workers. Highly qualified migrants often have no choice but to work in low-skilled occupations. It is, for example, extremely common in places such as Australia to encounter translingual PhD graduates working as taxi drivers (Reference Coates and CarrCoates & Carr, 2005), or in other precarious casualised work. While translingual migrants experienced high status with their skills recognised in their home countries, they become sidelined and marginalised in the new host society with their translingual English becoming the locus of discrimination and shame. This situation can be particularly marked in the case of south–north migration. Translingual migrants can encounter more linguistic discrimination due to essentialism, culturalism and various forms of othering (Reference PillerPiller, 2016). They are more likely to be initially screened out of employment by local employers due to their translingual identifications (Reference Tankosić and DovchinTankosić & Dovchin, 2021). In other words, their skills and job competences are likely to be underestimated, devalued and misjudged due to conscious or unconscious preconceptions.
The second point about translingualism and ‘precarity’ is that translingualism can be viewed as ‘a safe space for the expression of precarity’ for users of translingual repertoires. In the translingual safe space, it is possible to manage, negotiate and express one’s precarious existences not only through available translingual repertoires but also other paralinguistic emotionally intense expressions (e.g. crying, weeping and yelling). A translingual safe space becomes critical for translingual speakers to make sense of their new, precarious conditions and emerge as protagonists in their stories of survival and endurance without any filters or conditions. According to our study, translinguals sometimes co-construct emotionally safe spaces in which to express the feelings emerging from their precarious conditions (see also Reference Tankosić, Dryden and DovchinTankosić et al., 2021). While doing this they learn strategies for mediating their emotions and feelings when talking about their lived cultural and linguistic, social and professional experiences in the host society (Reference LangLang, 2019). However, they are also likely to experience feelings of humiliation, inferiority, trauma and abasement due to linguistic subordination in their new precarious environments (Reference LadegaardLadegaard, 2014). All of this points towards recognising translingualism as an emotionally intense space. This space provides a forum for shared, open talk related to cultural, linguistic and/or ethno-racial diversities (Reference OllerheadOllerhead, 2019) and avoids participants being the subject of profiling, judgement or evaluation (Reference Fang and LiuFang & Liu, 2020).
Another role of the translingual safe space is to foster inclusivity, a sense of belonging (Reference Creese and BlackledgeCreese & Blackledge, 2010), empathy, comfort and the freedom to be a translingual speaker (Reference Back, Han and WengBack et al., 2020). These spaces give licence for translingual repertoires to be used to negotiate meaning and share values and beliefs (Reference García-Mateus and PalmerGarcía-Mateus & Palmer, 2017). They both stimulate and allow intense, precarious and vulnerable emotional releases which can defuse negative feelings (Reference LadegaardLadegaard, 2014). In Global North academic settings strong emotional expressions, such as crying, may be considered at odds with, and in violation of, academic norms and practices typified by reason, self-control and rational ideas. Such practices and norms have been regarded as ‘grotesque realism’ by Reference BakhtinBakhtin (1984), who saw in this the reduction of all that is non-representational, principled, spiritual and moving to the material. The boundaries of normal practices are shaped by the social context and are therefore always subject to transformation and revision when the political-economic conditions change.
In translingual safe spaces, crying intensifies into ‘a language that transcends words’ (Reference KottlerKottler, 1996, p. 49). Lastly, translingual spaces encourage translinguals to realise their translingual identities free of inhibition and in an open conversational space which is important for their sense of self-empowerment and feelings of emotional comfort (Reference TankosićTankosić, 2022). Trust is built through the co-construction and sharing of common safe spaces amongst otherwise precarious work and life experiences (Reference LadegaardLadegaard, 2014): translingual speakers can prevail over their negative experiences and regain some sense of regulation over their lives as an expression of precarity once the translingual safe space is given.
Methodology
This study employs the methodological framework of linguistic ethnography (LE) – a qualitative research methodology which is used to study language users’ behaviours, experiences and actions in their immediate contextual environment (Reference Blommaert and RamptonBlommaert & Rampton, 2011). Combining linguistic and ethnographic perspectives provides us with an insight into the everyday lives of language users and learners and their lived experiences. To gain a deeper insight into sociolinguistic experiences of our research participants, we employed a method of focus group discussions (FGDs) triangulated with interviews.
This research is part of a larger ethnographic study with thirty-five migrant female participants, who are all academics based in Australia. The project used snowballing as a sampling method, to identify and choose participants based on their professional, gendered, sociolinguistic, ethnic and racial backgrounds. Female participants selected for this study participated in FGDs held over three days in the period from November 2020 until March 2021 in Western Australia (WA). They ranged in ages from twenty-five to sixty-five years and came from diverse backgrounds including Iraq, Indonesia, Zambia, Nigeria, India, Mongolia, Jamaica, Ukraine, Serbia, Korea, China, Burma, Argentina and Croatia. Some were academics already employed at the university where the study was set, ranging from associate lecturers to full professors, and some were PhD candidates or recently graduated PhD students. The FGDs in this current research took place in the researchers’ university. The two participants in Extract 1 and 2 were part of a focus group discussion, with three facilitators running the session on Day One, while the two participants in Extract 3 and 4 were from the second round of FGD on Day One, facilitated by an academic whose first language was not English. The main language of the interviews and FGDs was English: nevertheless, participants were encouraged to express themselves in whichever language they felt comfortable to ensure their safety and freedom of expression. Data in English were transcribed using Trint software, which ensures data safety. The automatic transcription of the uploaded file was exported to Word and double-checked manually for quality. Data in languages other than English were translated into English by the researchers and focus group discussion facilitators. We also analysed the data in their entirety not only with a focus on the story, but also on the participants’ use of paralinguistic features (Dovchin, 2019), for which notes were taken by researchers.Footnote 1
Note, however, that our main purpose is not actually to show translingual practices through our extracts but rather to discuss what makes the translingual space emotionally safe to express one’s precarious experiences. In our extracts, we have not elicited translingual practice from our participants or directly encouraged them to participate in translanguaging. Instead, we gave them the option to use whatever available resources they wanted to use during the FGD. Flexibility of the allowance of translingual practices provided opportunities for the immersion into the participants’ social and cultural experiences and permitted us to understand their precarious experiences as translingual speakers in Australia in terms of their linguistic and social practices and interactions.
We selected four extracts for the purposes of this chapter. Some of the participants at the FGD expressed their emotions openly and clearly, and these extracts are showcased here in this chapter. During the FGD, participants were able to talk openly among themselves, share experiences, ask questions and be as natural as possible. The FGDs were about topics related to translingual academics’ precarious work conditions and their social and linguistic challenges in Australian society. Taking into consideration the sensitive nature of the discussion, we, as researchers, were careful to think reflexively about our role and the way we approach and deal with participants’ intense emotional responses to precarity. Therefore, two out of the three facilitators in the FGDs were also translingual migrant female academics. They empathised with participants, made them feel more comfortable in speaking in English and engaging in translingual practices if they chose to do that and shared their own stories as translingual south-to-north migrants in Australia.
As a result, varied linguistic repertoires and resources were used during the FGD including Persian, Indonesian, Nyanja, Nigerian, Hindi, Mongolian, Jamaican, Ukrainian, Serbian, Korean, Chinese and Burmese, while English was still the dominant host language to be used for the forum. In other words, FGD, as translingual spaces, allowed our participants to meet and discuss social and cultural issues that are not well understood by others outside of that group using available resources. These spaces enabled them to address difficult and uncomfortable topics and express their precarious conditions in a supportive environment, providing an atmosphere where they can reduce feelings of stress and isolation and make connections with others who share similar circumstances (Reference HarpalaniHarpalani, 2017).
Translingualism and Precarity
The Case of Shamar
On the first day of the second round of FGDs, Shamar divulged her feelings and experiences. Immediately after introductions she began to cry, indicating her ‘precarity of expression’ but, at the same time, her comfortableness with letting other female workshop members see her cry in this emotionally safe space. Shamar is from Jamaica and speaks English and Jamaican Patois as her first languages. Back in Jamaica she works in the Bureau of Gender Affairs in the Office of the Prime Minister. She has taken time out from this prestigious posting to come to Australia to do her PhD. She has won numerous awards for leadership and research papers. She interacts with Zeinab, another female participant and Arabic-speaking PhD student from Iraq. Zeinab has been in Australia for seven years and recently graduated in Architecture. She was a tutor in a university in her home country for eighteen years prior to coming to Australia to do her PhD but has been unsuccessful in gaining employment in her field. She is currently working as a traffic warden. Prior to the scenes shown in the extracts the speakers have been discussing being published in peer-reviewed journals and unstable academic working conditions. The first extract has been edited to contain only the main responses in the interests of brevity. The order of exchanges has been retained. Of note is the running metaphor in Shamar’s narrative of a battle to break through barriers and closed doors and being constantly forced back down to the bottom. During the conversation in Extract 1 (Table 2.1), Shamar mostly uses English with a Jamaican accent and some Jamaican vocabulary which accentuates her translingual identity. The space that she shares with other translingual migrants allows her to openly express the emotions instilled by her precarious working conditions.
Table 2.1 Extract 1
| # | Discussant | Conversation transcript |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Zeinab | I’m an architect. Finished PhD at Curtin in architecture, I tried to get some like even work experience in school of architecture. And one of my supervisors really helped me, but … |
| 2 | Shamar | And even with all of that there is little or no success … I have Australian degree and so this would open a door for me in academia, and there was just this constantly scraping the bottom of the barrel, bottom line, with no success. And if I had – |
| 3 | Zeinab | But I thought you got something at XXXX? |
| 4 | Shamar | It’s part time, it’s, like I said it’s bottom of the barrel, it’s what’s left |
| 5 | Shamar | But it’s, um, it’s a real battle |
| 6 | Shamar |
|
| 7 | Zeinab | And I don’t think it will be open for me. That, so, I’m totally like hopeless. And oh forget everything about, I’m just thinking in a different way now, looking for like, doing education support, anything, anything just to get like … |
| 8 | Shamar | Yeah but you studied here. That should count for something [wobbly voice] |
| 9 | Zeinab | I tried, I tried at XXXX because I thought that’s the place where I should start from. But I just couldn’t get any. Then I moved on to another levels, I started to apply for admin jobs. But maybe that was a mistake because … |
| 10 | crying in background - probably Shamar |
Zeinab begins the conversation by describing her qualifications and intimating that, despite these qualifications, she has not been successful in finding work due to her translingual background and English being her additional language. Shamar relates to Zeinab’s plight and equates her own situation to Zeinab’s in line 2, expressing her precarity through anger and using a well-known English idiom (‘scraping the bottom of the barrel’) to describe how low she has had to go to find work. She firmly and loudly iterates the word ‘bottom’ (in the sense of being in a low, substandard and subordinate position) twice (‘there was just this constantly scraping the bottom of the barrel, bottom line, with no success’). When Zeinab queries her in line 3 (‘But I thought you got something at XXXX?’), Shamar continues the metaphor of having to work below her level of expertise and emphasises the word ‘bottom’ again adding that she feels like leftovers or the dregs that remain after the good stuff has been taken away and indicating her sense of precarity in her employment situation (‘It’s part time, it’s, like I said it’s bottom of the barrel, it’s what’s left …’). She continues the ‘battle’ metaphor after this in line 5 and into line 6 when she describes wondering, in military terms, how to ‘infiltrate the system’, how to find a public ‘pathway’ into a ‘space’ in which the door was not forever closed. Her oratory becomes more and more emotional, reflecting her frustration and despair. Zeinab’s admission that she feels ‘hopeless’ in line 7 threatens to interrupt Shamar’s speech as she fights back tears and develops a shaky or wobbly voice (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2021) – a voice expressing an intensity of emotions linked with her weeping. Zeinab’s further explanation of her repeated efforts to get a placement in the university where she has completed her degree and her decision to lower her sights and try for jobs where her academic skills are not valued (line 9), bring Shamar quietly, and not entirely perceptibly, to tears (line 10). Her emotionality is probably triggered by Zeinab’s sad tale and the recognition of her own precarity in Zeinab’s story. As Reference DovchinDovchin (2021) has pointed out, highly intense emotional expressions can be triggered by negative psychological and mental issues which remain masked typically in formal, seemingly impersonal situations (such as work places), and are usually disassociated from academic contexts until such times as they are released.
Shamar’s precarity of expression continues around 52 minutes into the same conversation as she falters again and begins to cry. The courage to cry in an academic forum in Australia no doubt comes from her reassurance that she is in a safe translingual space, where she can express her precarious condition (Reference Dryden, Tankosić and DovchinDryden et al., 2021). She breaks unapologetically through the barrier of cultural and academic norms as can be seen in Extract 2 (Table 2.2).
Table 2.2 Extract 2
| # | Discussant | Conversation transcript |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Shamar | Yeah and the doors are literally closing in your face. You know [wobbly voice] |
| 2 | Zeinab | I’m really sorry |
| 3 | Samai | Yeah |
| 4 | Shamar | No don’t be [crying] |
| 5 | Zeinab | Because I thought I’m the emotional one |
| 6 | Shamar | No no. I’m fine, I’m human, I have, I don’t apologise for crying, and I don’t apologise for expressing my my emotions |
| 7 | Zeinab | No, I apologise to make you cry |
| 8 | Shamar | No I was, I was actually crying |
| 9 | Samai | No, she was crying, she was crying, you didn’t make! [laughs] |
| 10 | Shamar | Because it’s quite a lot, I’m telling you |
| 11 | Zeinab | Yeah it’s a lot |
While speaking metaphorically about doors being closed to her, Shamar had managed to maintain enough distance from her precarious situation to keep her emotionality to a minimum. Once she narrates her actual lived reality to her audience, however, she experiences negative feelings and struggles to continue speaking. Her use of the expression ‘you know’ (line 1) can be taken as acknowledgement that Zeinab, a sister in the translingual space, has probably also had a similar experience to her as a translingual woman. In this way these academic women bond through their translingual identities and recognise shared precarious experiences. Zeinab says ‘I’m really sorry’ to Shamar. It was not clear at this point if she was empathising with Shamar’s situation and expressing regret for what Shamar had endured or if she was saying sorry because she felt she may have indirectly caused Shamar to cry. The FGD convener, Samai, joined Zainab in empathising with Shamar, being a translingual woman herself (line 3). Shamar then assured them both that they did not need to apologise (Line 4 ‘No, don’t be’). Zeinab continued to support her, trying to make her feel less embarrassed by admitting her own emotionality (‘because I thought I was the emotional one’). In doing so she was putting herself down, as she is aware that being emotional is seen negatively in the context in which she finds herself, the academic context of the workshop and the broader Australian context where emotional restraint tends to be more highly valued than emotional expressiveness in public (Reference Ting-Toomey, Dudley and CahnTing-Toomey, 2013). Shamar is quick to regain control though, even while she is still crying, explaining her behaviour unapologetically as ‘human’ and claiming her right to be emotional, ‘I, I have, I don’t apologise for crying, and I don’t apologise for expressing my emotions’ (line 6). At this moment, the strength and pride of this academic woman was evident. She was crying not in weakness or despair, but in sheer defiance, frustration, and exhaustion with the situations she encounters as a migrant woman of colour in a predominantly white, male, monolingual, somewhat parochial university setting in Australia.
Academic and institutional culture constructs emotional rules for its participants (particularly women) to control their ‘negative’ emotions of anger, anxiety, frustration and vulnerability but allows ‘positive’ and ‘legitimate’ emotions like empathy, calmness, kindness and being carefree (Reference Ding and De CostaDing & De Costa, 2018; Reference Gkonou, Miller, Dewaele and KingGkonou & Miller, 2020; Reference Wolff and De CostaWolff & De Costa, 2017). The women’s FGD was a translingual emotional space where they did not need to control their precarious experiences and the emotions of precarity and could share their burdens with fellow women academics. In line 7, Zeinab resumes her support, still not convinced that Shamar is really at ease. She apologises in a more specific way (‘No, I apologise to make you cry’). These two women who did not know each other prior to this event, and have only communicated with each other for 50 minutes or so during the workshop, felt comfortable to release their emotions and find linguistic, cultural and communicative liberty even in potentially face threatening and culturally loaded communicative acts such as apologising. Roles then reversed and Shamar now attempted to reassure and comfort Zeinab (line 8), with Samai clarifying for Zeinab what she believed Shamar really meant (line 9). Shamar emphasised to Zeinab that she was speaking directly from the heart and had revealed a lot more than perhaps even she was used to doing, ‘Because it’s quite a lot, I’m telling you’. Again, in the role of a translingual sister, Zeinab acknowledged the plunge taken by Shamar and was supportive in her response (‘Yeah, it’s a lot’).
Shamar continues to indicate her precarity when she describes her life as a fight or a battle later on in the conversation: ‘my tears aren’t just for myself, it’s what’s gonna happen to them [my children] … It’s my battles … unless we break through, then our children will be fighting the same battle … So so so I’m happy that this is a safe space that I can literally just express myself’. In this safe space she can express her feelings and free herself from the real-life emotional, mental and psychological conditions affecting the ability of Global South migrants, in particular, to live and work in a new host country largely determined by Global North norms and discourses (Reference Benson, Benson and ReindersBenson, 2011; Reference De Costa, Gajasinghe, Ojha and Rabie–AhmedDe Costa et al., 2022; Reference SandwallSandwall, 2010).
Shamar predominantly uses English in these extracts, integrating paralinguistic resources, repetition, metaphor, idiom, emphasis and, indeed, crying to deal with precarious issues such as frustration and despair (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2021). Freed from the constraints of being monitored for accuracy in the dominant language and host-country pragmatic norms, she felt comfortable to share her burden of precarious working experiences with others in the translingual safe space. While she did not utilise her own languages or overtly translanguage in this multilingual setting she drew upon behaviours not typical of academia nor the dominant language setting and created an emotionally safe space in which to manage and negotiate feelings related to lived linguistic and cultural experiences in a new country (Reference LangLang, 2019). As in Ladegaard’s studies (Reference Ladegaard2014), Shamar revealed trauma narratives linked to humiliation in her workplace and this was characterised through repeated crying. She did not fear being judged or evaluated by her peers (Reference Fang and LiuFang & Liu, 2020) which showed how translingual spaces can encourage empathy and inclusiveness (Reference Back, Han and WengBack et al., 2020).
The Case of Tsetseg
Tsetseg is Mongolian and currently a PhD Candidate at a university in Western Australia. She has a background in teaching and researching public health and environmental epidemiology in Mongolia, the United States and Australia. She has come to Australia to further pursue her main research interests on environmental health impact assessments, with a hope of advancing her academic career. She has no scholarship to support her living costs whilst in Australia and has struggled to make a living while studying. She decided to leave her three-year-old daughter with her extended family in Mongolia initially until she gained a foothold in Australia. However, like many others this plan was thwarted because of the COVID-19 pandemic. All of this has affected Tsetseg’s academic progress as well as her physical and mental well-being.
On the first day of the first workshop Tsetseg introduced herself at the beginning of a session entitled: ‘Towards achieving work–life balance in academia’. The general atmosphere was calm until it was Tsetseg’s turn to talk. She started by saying that she was a first-year PhD student, and then her speech faltered, expressing uncertainty and frustration. Like Shamar in Extracts 1 and 2, Tsetseg uses English as her primary linguistic repertoire but with a Mongolian accent. She is completely open in terms of expressing her precarity and vulnerability (Reference Dryden and DovchinDryden & Dovchin, 2022). This can be seen in Extract 3 (Table 2.3).
Table 2.3 Extract 3
| # | Discussant | Conversation transcript |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Facilitator | So which way do we go? Okay, that way |
| 2 | Tsetseg | Okay hello everyone, my name is Tsetseg … I’m from Mongolia and I am a PhD, first year PhD student at school of public health. Uh yes and also [phone goes off], yeah, initially I was planning to, back to Mongolia for data collection, but because of the COVID I cannot go back to Mongolia and I changed my like PhD research topic two, three times, uh yeah, and uh I’m currently living with my husband and I have one daughter but unfortunately she got stuck in Mongolia. Yeah. I left, she was three years old, but now she turns four years old. Yeah, and it’s very challenging and just for doing PhD my family is sacrificing a lot. My husband is working, my daughter’s there [voice breaks], and also in Mongolia they have the community transmission, last week there was no community transmission but, just last week and everyone’s so scared of that and, so many places there are a lot of [inaudible – scattering?] of COVID, so many cases everywhere, and just people are so scared of that and. My mum, my dad, and my daughter they are just, like hiding in their home and I’m just praying for them [crying] |
| 3 | Facilitator | We feel for you. You are very strong to stay on with your program and study here |
| 4 | Tsesteg | Yeah. I dunno. [crying] I was very passionate, I was so strong when I start the program, but now, I dunno, I just don’t know what I’m doing and. I cannot collect my data even I changed my data and Mongolia’s completely shut down now, we cannot get any data and just waiting, I don’t know how long it will take. By the way, just. Yeah and I’m just trying to maintain my mental health [wobbly voice, then long pause, sniffling, someone suggests getting a tissue]. Sorry |
The fact that Tsetseg starts talking straightaway about her stranded PhD project and her thwarted efforts to make progress (Line 2 ‘I changed my like PhD research topic two, three times’), suggests that she is preoccupied with this. Her tone is imbued with frustration and emotion. Speech fillers such as ‘uh’ and ‘yeah’ and the use of expressions such as ‘two, three times’ may not be so much about her inability to find the correct words in English, but rather reflect her emotionally overwhelmed state. Anxiety and uncertainty about when she can next see her daughter seem to have a debilitating effect on her (Line 2). Her circumstances, and in particular her guilt about leaving her child and the sacrifices made by her family (Line 2, ‘and my family is sacrificing a lot’), disrupt her ability to concentrate on her study, as she reflects on the necessary change of course in her emotional journey due to the COVID-19 restrictions (Line 4). Tsetseg’s immediate emotional expression shows the sense of freedom, safety and comfort she must feel in the translingual safe space (Reference LangLang, 2019). As such, a safe space shared by translingual-background women in academia leaves no room for shame, but for understanding, empathy and empowerment (Reference Back, Han and WengBack et al., 2020).
After fretting over her stalled research project, Tsetseg goes on to talk about the family separation, with her husband residing in Australia with her, but her daughter still living with family in Mongolia (Line 4 ‘and Mongolia’s completely shut down now, we cannot get any data and just waiting, I don’t know how long it will take’). She admits being concerned for her own mental health (Line 4 ‘Yeah and I’m just trying to maintain my mental health’) and then develops a ‘wobbly voice’ and ‘sniffling’ as she tries to stop herself crying. Tsetseg’s experience shows how migrants deal with many things in different social, professional and personal aspects of their lives. In addition to the concerns related to adapting to the norms and discourses of the host society in the labour market, they also deal with personal emotional attachments and relations. As in Tsetseg’s case, COVID-19 has had a significant impact, particularly on migrants, in Australia because border closures have led to families being ‘torn apart’ (ABC News, 2020). Experiencing emotional distress on so many different levels in her life, Tsetseg’s crying becomes a cathartic event (Reference LadegaardLadegaard, 2014) as the emotions she has been supressing resurface in the translingual safe space.
Later on, in Tsetseg’s introduction to the group she returns to the topic of the problems associated with the COVID-19 lockdowns and her separation from her family due to this situation. Extract 4 (Table 2.4) shows the interaction with Hasna, one of the facilitators.
Table 2.4 Extract 4
| # | Discussant | Conversation transcript |
|---|---|---|
| 1 | Tsetseg | And my husband is working at the construction, and then he broke his uh hand [very loud, shaky voice] |
| 2 | Hasna | Oh, we didn’t know that |
| 3 | Tsetseg | I dunno. And [sighs]. I don’t have any scholarship, no money, just monthly stipend. Just a little for the tuition fees stipend but I don’t know and, how it will go. And I’m just mentally so sensitive now and yeah and I, talking about life kind of balance things, survival things, very sensitive about it. Sorry |
| 4 | Unknown | Let it out |
| 5 | Facilitator | If you can’t cry here, you can’t cry anywhere |
| 6 | general murmuring and support from the group | |
| 7 | Tsetseg | [sounding very distressed] And I feel so so guilty for my family, for my husband, for my daughter, for my mother, my parents [breaking voice]. Everyone is like trying to support me but because of the difficult situation it’s not going well, and, I dunno, do I need to quit this program, go back to Mongolia or just have to wait, stay here? I know, I don’t, I really cannot make any decision now, just trying to survive here. Sorry about that |
| 8 | Unknown | No, don’t be sorry |
| 9 | Facilitator | Yeah, don’t say sorry |
| 10 | [general murmuring again] |
While it might have been considered ‘prestigious’ for an academic from the Global South to come to do a doctoral degree in a Global North university, this temporary transnational mobility can plunge female academics into a precarious state, with family members having to do work to which they are not accustomed and suffering injury as a result (Line 1 ‘And my husband is working at the construction, and then he broke his uh hand [very loud, shaky voice]’) if they do not have a scholarship. This can upset their life balance (Line 3). In Line 7, Tsetseg does not explicitly state why she did not bring her only daughter with her to Australia, but it is not uncommon for international postgraduate students to leave their partners or dependent children behind with their next of kin, weighing up the difficulties of moving into a new environment, the possible financial burdens of raising a young child without a stable income and the pressure of the study load during the early transitional period of time. Her guilt is palpable when she says in Line 7: ‘[sounding very distressed] And I feel so so guilty for my family, for my husband, for my daughter, for my mother, my parents [breaking voice]’. The guilt of a mother leaving her child to pursue her career is keenly felt in Tsetseg’s narration and brings to the fore a common challenge facing female academics. In Lines 8, 9 and 10 the women in the workshop reassure her that crying is a legitimate translingual repertoire as well as a perfectly natural human response, showing solidarity with her and allowing her to break the norms of the academic setting in this newly created safe space for Global South migrant women with shared experiences.
Academic mobility and crossing borders are often valorised for ‘knowledge transfer and international competition’, however, for individual academics, the unequal power relationships that shape academic hierarchy can result in a downward mobility trajectory for academics from the Global South (Reference KimKim, 2017). Tsetseg’s narrative underscores how this unequal relationship impacts on academics moving from the Global South to the Global North. Apart from the multiple hurdles she has encountered in her research project, she has suffered from financial difficulties, with her husband also being incapacitated.
Later, Tsetseg revealed that she had applied for a research assistant position partly to earn some money to support her study, but was told that, due to her level of English language proficiency, she was not an ideal candidate for the position. Instead, she was referred to a vacancy in a chicken factory. This traumatic experience was serious enough to derail Tsetseg’s study and make her everyday living a struggle, making it hard for her to find a space to articulate her experiences in the new academic and institutional culture. Tsetseg’s precarious experience can be linked to Reference LeonardLeonard’s (2017) case studies of the relationship between language difference, precarity in career advancement and social status. Leonard’s participants, migrant women in the United States, experienced different precarities in their literacy development, which consequently affected their economic stability. Leonard’s project explicates the intricacies of migration and its interaction with literacy practices. In the culture that Tsetseg describes, the unspoken rules surrounding the display of emotions are entrenched in order ‘for its participants to control their “bad” and “negative” emotions such as anger, anxiety, frustration, and vulnerability while expressing their “positive” and “legitimate” emotions such as empathy, calmness, kindness, and being carefree’ (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2021, p. 843).
Tsetseg’s precarious situation was exacerbated by the changes to travel and immigration possibilities brought about by the COVID-19 pandemic. She was following the worsening situation in Mongolia closely and had to stand by helplessly as the border was closed. During interview Tsetseg narrated the chaos in her hometown and her worries and powerlessness: ‘My mum, my dad and my daughter they are just, like hiding in their home and I’m just praying for them.’ At this point she could not continue and fell into uncontrollable sobbing. Her crying became part of her legitimate translingual repertoire and was used to express her pent-up feelings of frustration, trauma and psychological stress, alongside her truncated sentences, attempts to grope for appropriate words, repetition and speech fillers such as ‘uh’, ‘yeah’. Such a response is one of many communicative strategies used amongst English as an Additional Language/Dialect (EAL/D) speakers in their linguistic repertoires in the translingual space. It provides migrant women such as Tsetseg with a means through which they can genuinely express their feelings (Reference Dryden, Tankosić and DovchinDryden et al., 2021). However, this runs counter to Australian academic culture. Crying is considered inappropriate or even grotesque in the conventional Australian academic forum. This reminds us of Reference BakhtinBakhtin’s (1984) ‘grotesque realism’ which we discussed previously. Crying is the unleashing of strong emotion, incompatible with the academic norm marked with rationality, logic, restraint and abstract ideas. Tsetseg is well aware of the norms and conventions in the academic environment, and how crying might be perceived as she apologises profusely (Extract 3 Line 4; Extract 4 Lines 3 and 7). Her words show that crying and talking about personal issues are not ‘normal’ in an academic setting. However, in this situation she receives ‘cues’ from other participants that it is permissible to vent feelings and talk about the hardships she is enduring. Arguably, the translingual space constituted of women provides a safe space where participants can open up and share their multiple emotions without feeling inadequate. In this space her own translingual identity can safely be embraced. The safe space also ‘allows for multilayered belongings according to different affiliations’ (Reference CanagarajahCanagarajah, 2021, p. 577). When Tsetseg bursts into tears, the facilitator immediately responds with empathy and encouragement (Extract 3 Line 3 ‘We feel for you. You are very strong to stay on with your program and study here’). Whenever Tsetseg talks about her financial difficulties, the separation from family members, and the guilt of the burden of leaving her family in order to carry out her studies there is always general murmuring and support from the group of women in the workshop. When Tsetseg cannot continue with her speech, Hasna often provides support (Extract 4 Line 2) while Tsetseg composes herself. At the very end of the interaction one of the facilitators recommended Tsetseg go to individual counselling. The tacit understanding that others in this space can identify with Tsetseg’s precarity, and her emotional release, as normative is important for Tsetseg, as she says: ‘people really don’t understand me but some people don’t know how I’m just feeling so guilty for my daughter’.
In the final example, Extract 5 (Table 2.5), we show some examples of translingual practice, where Tsetseg integrates the Mongolian linguistic repertoires during FGD, while she is conversing with another group of Mongolian women.
Table 2.5 Extract 5
| # | Discussants | Conversation transcript | Mongolian–English translation |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | Tsetseg | Bi hamaagui demii balai yumaa yarichikh uu bas? Gosh, aimar emoroood | I hope I didn’t say anything silly? Gosh, I got so damn emotional |
| 2 | Khand | Harin ch setgel ongoigoog zugeer! This is a safe space! Don’t worry! | It is OK to open up! This is a safe space! Don’t worry! |
| 3 | Tsetseg | Yeah, I guess. Bas tiim shuu, tee? Saikhan bolloo | Yeah, I guess. That’s true, right? Feel better |
Tsetseg and Khand are informally conversing during the break of FGD, in which Tsetseg expresses her slight concern over what she has just said during the forum (line 1), using the Mongolian repertoire, ‘Bi hamaagui demii balai yumaa yarichikh vuu bas?’ (‘I hope I didn’t say anything silly?’), followed by the Anglicised Mongolian expression, ‘Gosh, aim emoroood’ (‘Gosh, I got so emotional’). She transforms the English noun ‘emotion’ into the Mongolian expression, ‘emorood’ (‘got emotional’)by integrating the ‘emo-’ with the Mongolian suffix, -rood. In line 2, Khand emphasises with Tsetseg while trying to show her support through integrating the Mongolian expression, ‘Harin ch setgel ongoigoog zugeer!’ (‘It is OK to open up!’) within English exclamation and affirmation, ‘This is a safe space! Don’t worry!’. Tsetseg accepts Khand’s reassurance by saying ‘Yeah I guess. Bas tiim shuu, tee? Saikhan bolloo’ (‘That’s true, right? Feel better’). In fact, the talk of ‘feeling better’ after sharing her experience as a south-to-north translingual migrant has been cathartic for Tsetseg as she has noted multiple times during the forum how she felt much calmer and more peaceful than when hiding inside herself. Her use of her own language with other migrants who do not speak her language creates another space for her within the safe space.
Overall, translingual spaces are created when these translingual women are together. In these spaces they can talk about their precarious experiences while releasing their precarity as emotions and finding linguistic, cultural and communicative freedom. In other words, translingual spaces can be playful or creative (as described in previous literature), but the lives of translingual speakers can be precarious when sharing the trauma experienced during relocation to another country, especially when their families are split up during the process.
Conclusion
While recent studies in translingualism often refer to the playfulness of translinguals and romanticise their vivacity and creativity in various settings (Reference JohnsenJohnsen, 2022; Reference Li and ZhuLi & Zhu, 2019; Reference Moody and MatsumotoMoody & Matsumoto, 2003), this study aimed to highlight the fact that translingualism may lose its playfulness in certain contexts as it becomes closely related to the concept of ‘precarity’. We examined the precarity of translingualism through two main lenses: translingualism as the main source of ‘precarious work conditions’ and translingualism as ‘the safe space of expression of precarity’. In terms of the former, we showed that migrants often experience precarious situations in the labour market as their translingual practice may lead to reduced employment rates, lack of opportunities and de-skilling in the host society led by institutional policies and practices of the Global North (Reference CanagarajahCanagarajah, 2018). In terms of the latter, translingualism becomes a safe space where translinguals have the opportunity to talk about their precarious conditions and experiences freely, openly and comfortably. They are allowed to express their emotions and translingual identities without fear of being evaluated, stereotyped, or judged (Reference Fang and LiuFang & Liu, 2020) as well as being allowed to show empathy, inclusivity and support (Reference Back, Han and WengBack et al., 2020).
Data for this study showed how translingual safe spaces are co-constructed by the women as they shared their precarious stories, experiences and life trajectories through rather precarious emotional expressions. Their narratives were characterised by strong emotional expression in the form of crying and moments of catharsis as they released their negative feelings. Translingual safe space, created when these women came together, provided empathy, shelter, support, inclusivity and empowerment. Our participants experienced various precarious situations in their professional academic environments as well as personal lives, which is why this form of support was necessary for their healing, wellbeing, and regaining a sense of control over their lives.
This study problematises the current perception of playfulness in translingualism literature. While translingual practice may be playful and creative, it is also precarious, as it may lead to hardships for translingual migrants in countries of the Global North. Their negative experiences related to their de-skilling and linguistic judgements and stereotypes in the labour market, together with their personal hardships, particularly the ones related to the COVID-19 situation, made their lives much more complicated and led to ‘bottling up’ their innermost feelings and emotions. Hence, we, as women in academia, need to write about the experiences of these women to show that translingual precarity may often be confused with playfulness. We need to work towards creating translingual safe spaces where other women would receive emotional support and be encouraged to share their life stories. This can not only have positive effects for their wellbeing (Reference Dryden, Tankosić and DovchinDryden et al., 2021), but would also empower them to be confident in using their skills in their desired professions.
