Introduction

The premise of this volume, as well as other current work in applied linguistics, is that much of the extant literature on translanguaging addresses playfulness, exuberance, innovation and creativity, whereas there is little theory and empirical work addressing precarity as it relates to translanguaging. In this chapter, we take a slightly different stance: translanguaging, and all communications, are semiotic functions – they are leveraged in meaning-making between people – and are always and everywhere embedded in, shaped by and constitutive of power relations. Therefore, precarity and playfulness are not either/or constructs; communications are always precarious, always embedded in sociocultural and sociopolitical contexts, always risking inequitable positioning and relations, whether or not they involve a degree of playfulness.

Our aim here is to illustrate this through: (1) laying a conceptual groundwork for understanding and analysing the complex interplay and integration of precarity and (local and transnational) communications; and (2) showing how and why it matters to the construction of transnational relations and (mis)understandings of ‘the other’ through application to and analysis of a transnational (online) communicative event. In order to do this, we begin with a brief discussion of precarity, followed by an introduction of the framing concept of transpositioning, before moving to an analysis of our case-in-point.

Conceptual Framing

The Interaction

The focal event – an online exchange between youth living in a slum in a large Indian metropolis, and youth living in a rural village in northwestern Uganda – transpired as part of the Global StoryBridges (GSB) project. The project digitally links youth across the globe, all of whom live in under-resourced communities, via a dedicated website. Young people participating in the project work in site-based groups, creating digital stories of their lives and communities, posting them on the website for youth in other sites to watch, and watching videos created by other sites, then discussing them in their respective sites and responding to them through a chat space provided on the website. While project goals include fostering language, literacy and technology skills, of primary interest is what we call critical cosmopolitanism (Reference HawkinsHawkins, 2014, Reference Hawkins, Bradley, Moore and Simpson2020, Reference Hawkins2021) – that is, fostering engagement with diverse global others in ways that embody and reflect openness, inquiry and care, that lead to ethical stances of “obligations to others, obligations that stretch beyond those to whom we are related by the ties of kith and kind, or even the more formal ties of a shared citizenship” (Reference AppiahAppiah, 2006, p. xv). This, we believe, may ultimately result in equitable and just positionings and relations. This is a critical backdrop to issues discussed above relating to precarity; we hope to mitigate against the imposition of stereotypes and ideologies that result in participants relegating others to a precarious status, elevating one’s own self and group over others. In order to do this, however, we have to understand how such positionings and relations are constructed.

Settings and Data Sources

The Video

Youth in Uganda created and posted a video (lasting 5 minutes and 48 seconds) entitled Hunting Birds for Sauce. In the video, four male Ugandan youths are seen walking through a forest looking for a bird. They sight one in a tree and shoot and kill it with a slingshot. They then gather twigs and start a fire, putting the bird on the red-hot twigs until it is cooked. The number of young people then expands, as all participate in cutting up vegetables and cooking them (subtitled as “preparing some side dishes”), along with some local grains, all in simple pots on open fires that they have built in the forest. They then rinse their hands and eat the meal, sharing communal dishes without utensils (they insert the subtitle, “the food is usually eaten in group”). The final shot shows the youth departing after the meal, dancing and declaring their happiness, as they say in unison, “we are satisfied!” Figures 6.1, 6.2, 6.3 and 6.4 show a few screenshot outtakes (with faces blurred for anonymity) to illustrate.

Figure 6.1 Lighting a fire

Figure 6.2 Preparing a side dish

Figure 6.3 Eating the meal together

Figure 6.4 Feeling “satisfied”

Contextualization in Historical and Environmental Flows

Transpositioning Analysis

A Word about Languaging

While earlier we pivoted from using ‘translanguaging’ to our preferred lens, ‘transmodalities’, here we wish to return to a brief discussion of languaging. Youth in both project sites discussed here were English learners (as can be seen in the verbatim excerpts of their posts). In the Ugandan site, all spoke the same home language, Lugbara, and learned English at school, as schooling in Uganda is in English. Site-based interactions in Uganda were instances of Lugbara/English translanguaging. In the Indian site, youth were polylingual. All were schooled in English, like the Ugandan youth, and all spoke Hindi – either as a first language or second – as well as Marathi, the language of the state the site is located in. Two spoke also Tamil and one Gujarati as their first language. In India, too, youth translanguaged in their interactions with one another – English semiotic resources were a constant, with varied combinations of resources associated with other languages deployed depending on the extent of interlocutors’ shared repertoires. However, our interest here is not in discussing how youth moved across and between languages in their local sites, but on the impact of language in their interactions across transnational sites. While we have shown how language integrates with other semiotic resources to create and convey meaning, we want to address issues in meaning-making related both to the use of English as shaped and inflected by home languages when English is not the home language, and also those related to the use of different Englishes.

We have offered examples of the chat responses that were posted by the Indian youth. While it is easy for English-speaking Western audiences to view the questions they posed as being particularly rude, they are in fact indexical of a ‘precariously’ classed kind of Indian-Englishing, one arising out of a singular reliance on direct translation from vernacular languages. During the site visit, Nikhil observed that youth did not discuss the chat responses that they intended to leave on other sites’ videos in English, but in Hindi; it was only once they had a written list of comments and/or questions in Hindi that they would translate and then type them into the chat box – and the site facilitator confirmed this as their procedure. Viewed in their original Hindi forms, the questions that the Indian youth posed are far from provocative, and are instead rather polite. We will offer one example (Table 6.1).

The example shows one of the site’s verbatim English comments and its original Hindi form. In Hindi, there are two distinct forms for the English word ‘you’, and youth consistently used the respectful form (āp) when forming their chat responses, a choice that would immediately signal humility and respect to any Hindi-knowing interlocutor. Had the youth intended to communicate derision, they would have chosen any of the less respectful forms of the pronoun available to them (tum, tum log, or tū) – discarded choices that we hold speak to a solid awareness of the pragmatics of Hindi, but not quite of English. This is further evidenced by the fact that the question can be translated in one of two ways: as the youth did, which can come off as rude, or as, “Are you not able to eat chicken or meat?” – the latter being a form of the question that speakers of English more familiar with its pragmatics (in Western contexts) would interpret as being more polite or sensitive than the alternative. In languaging in English from a precariously classed repertoire developed outside of exposure to the pragmatics of the language (for example, through more knowledgeable and practiced facilitators, through English media, through interaction with first language speakers of English), it is plain how much meaning intended by the Indian youth ended up getting lost or misinterpreted.

In this example, what we see is that it is easy to read meaning into pragmatic aspects such as word choice, sequence and tone. If transpositioning is negotiated and accomplished (in part) turn-by-turn, and these turns rely on language choices that do indeed leverage lexical and grammatical items interlocutors have in their repertoires, then meaning-making itself becomes a precarious venture, fraught with possibilities of misinterpretation. Those items, after all, are constrained by their locations in the histories and contextualities of their users – and this is so not only for interlocutors in communication, but for researchers attempting to analyse meanings-under-construction, especially as many of us are positioned within Western contexts.

Conclusion

In this chapter, we are making a claim about translanguaging, transmodalities and precarity; namely, that while communication may involve varying degrees of playfulness, creativity and innovation, it is always precarious, always risking inequitable positioning and status relationships among interlocutors, always potentially promoting inequality. In the example we have analysed, we can see two groups of interlocutors, each of which might be positioned by outsiders as living precarious lives, defined in Reference ButlerButler’s (2009) categories as: “at heightened risk of disease, poverty, starvation” (p. ii); part of social groups affected by geographic and socioeconomic conditions “that threaten life in ways that appear to be outside of one’s control” (p. 1). Yet, one point we wish to make is that corresponding claims of socioemotional conditions, which Reference KasmirKasmir (2018) describes as, “feelings of anxiety, disenfranchisement, and loss of hope for the future” (np) may be in fact impositions authored by Western, or at least outsider, imaginaries, bearing little relation to emic perspectives.

What we have in fact seen is a video created by youth in Uganda that, data show, was meant to portray their independence, innovation and creativity, being interpreted by youth in India (at the vectors of history, context and power) as illustrating poverty and lack of resources, and which, if socioemotional factors are taken into account, inspired pity. Yet it was pity towards ‘the other’, while (in contrast) reinforcing positive views of selves and their own lives.

Positive views of their own lives were apparent on the part of both the Ugandan and the Indian youth, as was the desire to share their knowledge and resourcefulness through offering ‘lessons’ to youth elsewhere. On the part of the Ugandan youth, we see this in their description of why they made their video, and their wish to show their innovation and resourcefulness to the youth in India. They say, “So I’m telling them, I’m advising them, they should use things around them” (interview). For the Indian youth, this comes through perhaps most clearly in their discussions, and production, of their next video. There is a Hindi word, ‘jugaad’, meaning improvisation and resourcefulness. The Indian youth, in discussion with Nikhil, voiced their desire to make a video that showcased ‘jugaad’ so that the Ugandan youth could learn from them, and not have to “live in the way that they did” (field notes). And in fact, the next video they made and posted was entitled, “(name of slum) Garments” and showed tailors in their neighbourhood making shirts, which they felt was a way of using materials at hand as a means to increased socioeconomic gain and status.

What we hope we have illustrated is that, in the transpositioning process, moves were made to claim positions of value and status as these categories were perceived by those initiating the turn/action – with value and status being determined by their embeddedness in social and historical flows of ideas, ideologies, movements and so on – and always (although mostly unwittingly) done in response to the previous moves in the communication, resting on the communicators’ interpretations of ‘the other’ and of the messages received, which were also determined through their own locations in historical, social, and cultural vectors and trajectories. In this way, turn by turn, understandings of one another were forged, and reifications of views of self were accomplished. Transpositioning always happens, in every interaction everywhere. But without close examination of meanings-under-construction that consider the complexities of semiotics and relationalities, inequitable relations will be re-inscribed, rather than challenged.

Yet we must return to the transnational nature of the communications, or, put differently, issues at hand in communications across time, space, and especially diversity. Interactants often do not share codes, whether they be (aspects of) language or other semiotic modes, and thus the potentials for misunderstandings and misinterpretations are significantly magnified. Thus, we end with drawing attention to the importance of transmodalities as an analytic frame – to consideration of the situatedness of the communicative event, the full range of communicative resources and entanglements between them, the attention to the entire arc of communication (and not solely the composition of a message), and the permeation of status and relations of power throughout all communications, in order to deeply understand how meanings are made, and the relational work they engender. This is the necessary first step for critical cosmopolitanism and for forging more equitable relations in the world.

Introduction

We begin this chapter by acknowledging the traditional owners of the land where we met and undertook this research – the Whadjuk people of the Noongar Nation – and pay our respects to elders past, present and emerging. We do this as non-Aboriginal people and respectfully acknowledge that we live and work on land that was never ceded. Furthermore, we recognise the strong traditions and cultural ties and, of particular relevance to this study, the linguistic richness and artistic talents of Australian Aboriginal people.

We also acknowledge that Aboriginal people in Australia are not a homogenous group and rather are diverse, in their language and culture, their history and where and how they live. In Western Australia, where this study is situated, there are over sixty language nations – that is, groups of people sharing a particular language within a certain geographical area. However, even within these language boundaries, their language use varies considerably with some using the traditional language of their country, others speaking a creole, with Kriol being the common one used across the north of the country, and many also using a dialect of English, namely Standard Australian English (SAE) or more often Australian Aboriginal English (AAE). AAE emerged as a new contact language post-colonisation and is a distinct dialect in the way that Scottish, Irish or American English are also dialects. It varies from SAE at all linguistic levels – phonologically, syntactically, morphologically and semantically. It is often used as the lingua franca between Australian Aboriginal people who may not share the same traditional language background.

Despite this diversity, Aboriginal people may share many cultural commonalities including their connection to their land, their learning preferences (e.g. by seeing and doing), and the importance they place on story telling. They also share a long and proud history. Aboriginal people have been in Australia for at least 60,000 years, making them amongst the oldest First Nation people in the world. However, like many first nations peoples they have been dispossessed and continue to experience disadvantage – often a direct consequence of colonisation. For work, family and cultural reasons they may travel considerable distances and this has impacted their language choices and usage. At times this reflects the sociocultural context of their communication, at other times, it may be a conscious decision (e.g. see Reference Tankosic, Dovchin, Oliver and ExellTankosic, Dovchin, Oliver & Exell, 2022).

In this study, we explore the language use of a young, but acclaimed, Aboriginal artist – as represented in social media, and specifically on his Instagram account. This is a departure from previous research within the artistic realm where the focus of most language use research, particularly that of young people, has been on the impact of music (Reference Benson, Chik, Lee and MoodyBenson & Chik, 2012). Perhaps music has received such attention as it is a place where individual and social identities can be easily created and our beliefs clearly expressed (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2018). Music is also a place to reflect, often quite publicly, about the social fabric of society (Reference DolbyDolby, 2006). In fact, it is claimed that popular music – with its primary target audience being young people – is where urban narratives are created (Reference BennettBennet, 2000) and where stories can be told, providing messages that are multi-layered, that are educative and provide socialisation (Reference Hotlzman and SharpeHotlzman & Sharpe, 2014).

For Australian Aboriginal people, art also has been traditionally used for such purposes. In particular, it has been and continues to be used to express identity and kinship, to share cultural knowledge, including connection to the environment and deep spiritual beliefs. Some even argue that describing it as ‘art’ – a western construct – devalues the depth of representation it encompasses (Reference CameronCameron, 2015). The participant in the current research calls himself an illustrator, rather than an artist, but also as someone who creates art. Yet he also describes his pieces as artwork explaining how he uses his art to share knowledge and educate others about Aboriginal culture. Therefore, whilst acknowledging Cameron’s caution and our non-Aboriginal epistemology, in this chapter we extend the participant’s own description of what he does and refer to him as an artist.

We suggest that today, social media (e.g. Facebook, Instagram, Twitter) is increasingly playing a similar role to art and music for young Australian Aboriginal people (Reference Oliver, McCarthy, Dobinson and DunworthOliver & McCarthy, 2019; Reference Oliver and NguyenOliver & Nguyen, 2017). Platforms such as Facebook and TikTok also provide an opportunity for young people to use their language in innovative ways, to construct their cultural identity as Aboriginal multi- and translinguals, to demonstrate high levels of contextual awareness – using their skills to include and exclude, and to access and even develop their Standard Australian English skills. Overall, social media represents a site that provides opportunity for young Aboriginal people to translanguage in creative and artistic ways (Reference Oliver and NguyenOliver & Nguyen, 2017).

Translanguaging

The term ‘translanguaging’ is used to describe the language use of multlinguals. It shows the fluid way they move between their languages within the interactive process of meaning making, knowledge creation and sharing. As a construct it incorporates both psycholinguistic and sociolinguistic perspectives, and reflects the cognitive, social, cultural and contextual elements entailed in this linguistic movement (Reference García and LiGarcía & Li Wei, 2014; Reference LiLi, 2011). It does not simply equate to translation or code-switching because the languages multilingual individuals possess are part of a single, integrated and coherent system (Reference García and LiGarcía & Li Wei, 2014). Hence it comes together to celebrate the deeply embedded semiotic resources of multilingual speakers. It also values language minorities whose linguistic repertoires often go unrecognised. In this way, translanguaging has emerged both from precarity and also the peripheral location of such speakers (see Chapter 1 in this volume).

Despite this, within the research field of translanguaging less attention has been paid to certain contexts and particular speakers. As noted, music has received considerable attention (e.g. Reference GarcíaGarcía, 2019; Reference LinLin, 2014), although within the transnational music scene non-English linguistic resources, for example, have generally been overlooked (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2018). We also argue that other aspects of the artistic scene (e.g. art, drama) have received less attention than music. Furthermore, whilst translanguaging on social media has been investigated, this has generally only involved the investigation of certain platforms (e.g. Facebook) with little research, for instance, undertaken about Instagram. How translanguaging is enacted by some cultural groups – such as Mongolian and Chinese background speakers – has been well documented (e.g. Reference DovchinDovchin 2015, Reference Dovchin2018, Reference Dovchin2019; Reference Li and ZhuLi & Zhu, 2013, Reference Li and Zhu2019), but other cultural groups have received much less attention. With a few exceptions (Reference MakalelaMakalela, 2018; Chapter 5, this volume; Chapter 9, this volume), this appears to be the case for Indigenous or now often referred to as First Nation peoples, including Australian Aboriginals who feel judged (Reference Oliver and ExellOliver & Exell, 2020) when they ‘transgress linguistic boundaries and engage in hybrid and fluid linguistic practices’ (Reference Kubota and TupasKubota, 2015, p. 33). The research that does exist in this respect tends to have an educational focus (e.g. Reference Oliver, Angelo, Steele and WigglesworthOliver, Wigglesworth, Angelo & Steele, 2020) and other contexts of translanguaging tend to be ignored. Therefore, in this study we address these other aspects – that is, the translanguaging practices of an Australian Aboriginal artist as he creates his art and portrays this on social media and, in particular, on his own Instagram account. To do this, we explore his online language use as a point of contrast to his offline interactions.

With these aims as our focus we seek to answer the following research questions:

1. (1) How, through his art and Instagram presence does this Aboriginal artist represent himself and his cultural identity?

2. (2) How does he engage his individual linguistic repertoire for these purposes?

3. (3) How do his online and offline language use compare?

Method

A case study approach was used in this study to explore the language practices of a young Aboriginal artist. He was chosen as the ‘case’ for this research because he is well known to the second author, and because he is someone with a strong social media profile. In addition, because Exell has developed a trusting friendship with the artist over a period of three years (he was introduced through mutual friends) it was possible to gain insider perspective through shadowing (Reference Dewilde and CreeseDewilde & Creese, 2016) for both the on- and offline interactions.

The Artist

The artist is Kamsani Bin Salleh (name used with permission), who is also known in the Australian art community as Kambarni (Kam for short). He is a Nimunburr and Yawuru man from the Kimberley region of the state of Western Australia. He also has connections to Noongar country, representing the south-west corner of this state. He grew up about 120 km south-east of the capital city, Perth. He was schooled in this location until Year 7, before moving to the Kimberley region in early high school years and then he moved to finish his secondary schooling at an elite private school in Perth. After school, he attended the University of Western Australia, graduating in 2016 with a Bachelor of Communication and Media Studies.

He is now an established artist in Western Australia, painting, amongst other things, commissioned public art in the form of murals. He has also published two books for children. He was named the 2018 West Australian Young Person of the Year for utilising a strong online presence and his art to share knowledge and to educate others about Aboriginal culture.

As noted, there is considerable linguistic diversity amongst Australian Aboriginal people. They may speak one, some or all of the following: Standard Australian English (SAE), Australian Aboriginal English (AAE) – which exists as a ‘peripheralised’ English (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2018), Kriol (a creole used in the north of Australia, including in the Kimberley region) and traditional languages (e.g. Noongar, Yawuru, Kija, Martu). As with Mongolians (Reference DovchinDovchin, 2015, Reference Dovchin2018, Reference Dovchin2019) the linguistic diversity of Aboriginal peoples can be considered in both positive and negative ways. Although the richness and creative language use is celebrated by some (e.g. Reference Vaughan and MazzaferroVaughn, 2018), it is the target of derision by others, something that Kambarni reflects on himself (see below). AAE, for instance, can be stigmatised in relation to Standard Australian English (Reference Milroy and MilroyMilroy & Milroy, 1999). In previous research, we have even had Aboriginal participants describe it as rubbish talk (Reference Oliver, Angelo, Steele and WigglesworthOliver et al., 2020). Despite this, AAE remains the lingua franca of many Aboriginal people and it serves as an important cultural identity marker (Reference Malcolm, Grote, Leitner and MalcolmMalcolm & Grote, 2007). Kam speaks both SAE and AE with considerable proficiency and, according to his own account, he has some understanding of Kriol lexicon and knows some words of traditional languages.

ProcedureFootnote ¹

The screenshots from Kambarni’s Instagram account, which were available publicly to those who follow his account, were recorded over a 12-month period. These screenshots were, in the main, a record of his artwork. Note: where he used a title to describe his work, these are reflected in the name used for the figures presented in this chapter, however, if he did not, then the words he used in his description (during off-line ‘yarning’ – see below) were reflected in the figure names.

Once all the posts were collated, a constant comparison method was used to categorise the posts, considering the social commentary and linguistic repertoire reflected within these. The constant comparison method is one that is used to compare the analysis of new data against existing findings, with a particular focus on emerging categories (Reference Hewitt-TaylorHewitt-Taylor, 2001).

Representative samples were selected to illustrate each of the categories and then informal and culturally appropriate interviews were conducted to obtain comment and reflection. This method is called ‘yarning’ and has gained considerable traction in the literature (Reference Bessarab and Ng’anduBessarab & Ng’andu, 2010). Reference Ober and BatOber and Bat (2007) actually use the Kriol term ‘kapati’ to describe this approach (equating to sitting down and chatting – sometimes with a kapati/cup of tea). With Kam, once these informal interviews were recorded, they were then transcribed. The relevant comments aligning with particular posts were collated and examined to identify language use and also evidence of translanguaging (i.e. movement between Kam’s languages – words and phrases from traditional languages and Kriol, and text written in English dialects – namely SAE and AAE.

Following Kickett (in Reference Forrest and JohnsonForrest & Johnson, 2017) we tell Kambarni’s story – his account of his art and his language use – using his voice and hence several of his direct quotes are included. As in Reference Oliver and ExellOliver and Exell (2020, p. 823) we do this with “full awareness and acknowledgement as non-Aboriginal people because, as Reference LangfordLangford (1983) indicates, only Aboriginal people should be entitled to tell their own stories and do so in their own words”.

Findings

Overall, Kam uses Instagram to artistically and multi-modally construct his individual and cultural identity – as a young Aboriginal person who is an artist. In his posts he draws on his cultural background representing this in contemporary ways (e.g. on large murals, using light shows) and in different artistic spaces (e.g. as public art, but also through his personal representations). Whilst clearly signifying his Aboriginality and his strong alignment to his traditional culture – such as through his distinctive use of Aboriginal dot paintings and representations of cultural icons – he also ‘walks’ with confidence in non-Aboriginal ‘youth’ society. He does this by providing commentary about everyday happenings and political lived experiences, including contemporary issues around racism. Despite this, he often does all these things in fun and playful ways, using humour to connect to his target audience. Although he reflects on his language background and use, his on-line identity rarely demonstrates his translingual nature and in this way it captures the precarity of translinguals, especially those whose first language or dialect is not the dominant one in the society in which they live.

Identity as an Aboriginal Artist

In response to sharing screen captures of Kambarni’s artwork with him, it was very clear that he identified himself as someone who creates art. Furthermore, it was evident that he was proud of his work and the positive response he receives from the public:

When creating art, he also engages others. He provided the following account when asked about this painting of a beetle (Figure 7.1):

These claims of engaging others were well supported over the 12-month data collection period where videos were displayed of community engagement with his large public art pieces and this was particularly the case where he involved children and young people in his work, including doing so at schools.

Figure 7.1 Beetle mural

His work with others extends beyond simply engaging them with the production of art. Kambarni uses art as “a conversation starter as well”; as a way to engage, but also to educate people. He consciously uses it to extend others’ understanding of Aboriginal people and their art:

Figure 7.2 Aboriginal dot art

Cultural Background

Beyond just Aboriginal art, Kambarni’s Instagram posts and especially those that capture his broader art pieces are used to educate his audience about Aboriginal people and their culture. It is clear from these that he has pride in being an Aboriginal person.

For instance, Figure 7.3 which shows an Aboriginal man riding a megafauna animal was described by Kambarni in the following way:

In fact, the strength of his culture and his undeniable connection to it was a key theme underpinning many of Kambarni’s posts. For example, when he describes the image in Figure 7.4, he states:

Figure 7.3 Aboriginal man riding a megafauna

Figure 7.4 Carrying lineage at boarding school

From his Instagram posts it is clearly evident that Kambarni is proud to be Aboriginal and he does not shy away from the political controversy connected to Aboriginal people, and by extension all Black people standing up and being counted. In one post he uses an iconic photo, more recently recreated as a sculpture and placed outside a famous Australian sporting field to make this point. The original photo, taken in 1993, captures the moment where an Australian Aboriginal football player, after being racially abused by members of the opposition cheer squad, raises his football jumper and points to his skin. Newspapers reporting the incident the next day carried the headline: ‘Winmar: I’m black and proud of it’.

Kambarni builds on the incident reported in the newspaper by making his own statement. He describes his artwork in the following way:

Kambarni also uses his social media profile to highlight the hypocrisy inherent in the representation of Australian history and particularly the erasure of Black history from it (Figure 7.5):

In Kambarni’s description of another post (Figure 7.6) he outlines how it is his response

Figure 7.5 Double standards of remembrance

Figure 7.6 Wiping history away

At the same time, he also reflected that there is a lot of stereotyping and that he is often asked to speak for all Aboriginal people:

Reflecting the time of data collection, when the Black Lives Matter had become a key feature of protests against racism, particularly in the USA, Kambarni included posts that reflect his perceptions about this, using his social media presence to highlight that Australia is not immune from such racism.

Kambari reflects on his post in Figure 7.7 by stating:

Figure 7.7 Reflecting on ‘Black Lives Matter’

Language Use

Thus far Kambarni’s screenshots from his Instagram account and his yarns about them show SAE use and his verbal acuity in this dialect is clear. However, when asked to describe the motivation underpinning the post in Figure 7.8 that strongly reflects his cultural background and traditional ways of living – symbolically represented on the back of an emu (a large and iconic flightless bird of Australia) and labelled ‘weitj mia’ – he uses some Nyoongar words. In addition, he reflects upon his own knowledge of this language and his desire to preserve it. Interestingly, he also describes the metacognitive strategies he embraces to try and remember traditional lexicon: Kambarni describes Figure 7.8 in the following way:

Despite Kambarni’s claim that he tries to incorporate Aboriginal languages in his artwork, the screen capture in Figure 7.9 shows that it was not a prevalent occurrence. However, when it was used, it was often quite short, just a word or phrase, and most likely to be used in a post reflecting a personal experience. As he indicates himself, and quite unusually compared to the general inclusiveness of his social media profile, it is not something he expects a non-Aboriginal person to understand:

In another post, such ‘lingo’ was also part of a post with another purpose, namely to demonstrate an Indigenous Instagram filter:

Figure 7.8 Symbolic emu art

Figure 7.9 Keep talking cakes

When asked about the screen capture in Figure 7.10, Kambarni did not talk about his language use, but instead described what he was doing:

Note: The ABC has a specific Indigenous portal designed to be inclusive of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples.

Figure 7.10 Indigenous Instagram filter

Linguicism

As the yarn progressed about Kambarni’s screen shots, and particularly when he did reflect on language use, he was asked if he had ever experienced linguicism, that is discrimination based on the way he speaks. Initially he claimed that:

Yet as the conversation continued, he did describe how people could be disparaging such as when:

He also drew on an experience where something appearing on the media led to a clear case of linguicism:

Therefore, as a member of a minority language group he clearly felt the impact of linguicism. The contrast to this occurred when he moved to become a member of the majority language group:

These experiences helped him to become the successful translingual that he is. Yet despite the confidence he describes, when shown a photo he posted of himself and a group of his friends he indicated “That’s why I love hanging out with these boys, someone you’re more comfortable (talking) with as well.” Clearly, even for someone such as Kambarni who has a successful online profile and artistic reputation, and who is a highly proficient linguistically, there remains considerable precarity around being a translingual person.

Offline Language Use

Precarity is apparent from the contrast that was observed by the second author when Kambarni interacted ‘inside’ his own peer group. Unlike his public profile where AAE was used rarely and SAE predominantly, Kambarni would fluidly translanguage in oral discourse. He would often do this playfully and creatively, using his various linguistic resources: SAE, Aboriginal English and traditional language lexicon. For example, the following are examples of him ‘talkin’ shit’ with a friend as part of the yarning (i.e. the informal interview process). Note, although the second author is present only Kam and Kambarni’s friend from the Kimberley (R) engage in this exchange:

In this extract we can see how Kam and his friend move fluidly across their linguistic repertoires, that is, translanguaging between SAE and AAE as they discuss both fun, but also more serious topics. For example, Kam uses the AAE expression to describe getting drunk – “charge up”, but then moves back to SAE using a funny voice in response to his friend talking about getting drunk.

Conclusion

Kambarni is a cultural producer, someone who is creating urban narratives through his art and through his Instagram posts. He provides commentary about contemporary society and about being Aboriginal in this time in history. There are real “political and ideological underpinnings” (Reference Kubota and TupasKubota, 2015, p. 37) in his Instagram posts. Through his art and social media profile he is able to “contest dominant ideologies and express alternative perspectives” (Reference Kenway, Bullen, Drotner and LivingstoneKenway & Bullen, 2008, p. 28).

Given his alignment to both his traditional culture, and also to youth culture, it was somewhat surprising to find his translingual communication practices were rarely demonstrated publically (i.e. online), yet off-line with his peers (insiders) he demonstrated his immense skill as a translingual person. Offline he moves fluidly between SAE, AE and at times, traditional and Kriol lexicon, for social interaction, humour and to demonstrate Aboriginal identity. Furthermore, he earnestly described how he feels more comfortable being with his group of friends who speak like him. In this way Kambarni’s language use illustrates the juxtaposition that exists for translinguals in terms of precarity and playfulness. As such this case study provides further support for previous research that has highlighted how very different online and offline persona can be in terms of translanguaging (Reference Dovchin, Pennycook and SultanaDovchin, Pennycook & Sultana, 2018). It also highlights how much further we have to go in showing acceptance for people’s language background and the way they speak.

Introduction

In the United States, a very real aspect of having an undocumented status or being in a mixed status family is living in a constant state of precarity and vulnerability. The lives of these individuals and their families are often filled with heightened caution and a need to stay in the shadows (Reference GonzalesGonzalez, 2016). Not doing so can lead to discrimination, a lack of access to jobs, surveillance by the US Immigration Customs Enforcement (ICE), detainment, and/or deportation. Therefore, the act of publicly speaking about their own or their family members’ undocumented status, even anonymously, is an extremely risky endeavor. Moreover, dichotomous and superficial dominant discourses on immigration which influence public opinion and legal policies add to an already precarious state (Reference DasDas, 2020; Reference KeyesKeyes, 2012). To combat negative public portrayals and to advocate for themselves and build community and a sense of self, many immigrants are taking the risk, coming out as having an undocumented status, and sharing their stories.

These stories can vary greatly in purpose and authorship. For example, more mainstream immigrant stories which are co-written with politicians or others in positions of power, referred to here as ‘prescribed narratives’, are seen in abundance during times of elections or times when legislation on immigration is being considered. Although these stories are constructed with the ends of achieving admirable goals like progressing immigration reform, these stories and even their embodiment have been very carefully recontextualized by those who have institutional power. Often, they feed into a good versus bad immigrant binary that ultimately serves to reify conservative policies (Reference Anguiano, Chavez, Holling and CalafellAnguiano & Chavez, 2011; Reference Wides-MuñozWidez-Muñoz, 2018). Another example of immigrant narratives are what Reference BishopBishop (2017, Reference Bishop2018) has termed ‘reclaimant narratives’, where immigrants “reclaim the right to speak for themselves” (Reference BishopBishop, 2018, p. 160). These reclaimant narratives can have a variety of different purposes (advocating for immigration reform, community building, self-reflection) and can be found on online social media or community websites. While those invited to share their stories in the former example have some form of protection given by the politicians they work with, those who share their narratives on their own do not have the same kind of safety nets. Thus, publicizing these narratives of their own accord is more precarious and vulnerable as the backlash, surveillance, and discrimination for those who write them face may not be mitigated.

To date, research on immigrant narratives which advocate for immigration reform have focused on textual structure, their story lines, and how these individuals negotiate different identities in order to reach a broad range of audiences (Reference De FinaDe Fina, 2020a, Reference De Fina, Rheindorf and Wodak2020b). Additionally, research on reclaimant narratives shared for community building and self-reflection has focused on interview data without a detailed discourse analysis of the narratives themselves. In either case, attention has not been given to how these individuals use translingual practices and negotiate their full linguistic repertoires (including dominant discourses, languages, and registers) to remain faithful to their preferred identities and empower themselves and their communities.

This chapter will explore how utilizing translingual practices might provide resources, within a vulnerable and precarious context, for these narrators to negotiate their own voices as well the dominant discourses surrounding them. In this context, codemeshing and code-switching (as part of these translingual practices) may allow narrators to negotiate personal as well as outside discourses to develop their own voice and agency. Our analysis of two narratives and their authors’ processes of code alternation and indexicality will take translingual practices beyond the traditional classroom where the rights and livelihood of hundreds of people are at stake. We will draw on a narrative produced by an immigrant with an undocumented status and another one who comes from a mixed status family to examine the role of translingual practices in creative writing in precarity.

Literature Review

Methods

For our analysis of the two reclaimant narratives below, we focus on the analysis of indexicality as used by Reference Wortham and ReyesWortham and Reyes (2015). Indexicality simply means how words ‘point to’ (index) meanings, values, and identities via patterns of association. Reference Wortham and ReyesWortham and Reyes (2015) remind us that this is an “iterative” process that involves dynamic and ongoing interactions between words and contexts (p. 172). While words gain their indexicality from contexts, the contexts can themselves be gradually changed through creative and playful language use. In this way, the “indexical” (word, symbol, or artifact) and its “typification” (what it points to) are always only “stabilized for now.” How meanings get stabilized takes a complex social and historical process. There should be social “uptake” of the words that a speaker deploys, or that signs represent (Reference Wortham and ReyesWortham & Reyes, 2015, p. 12), for them to be communicative. That uptake depends on the indexical acquiring typification through repeated use in particular contexts for particular meanings over time. This process of typification is called “entextualization” (i.e. “the process of coming to textual formedness” – Reference SilversteinSilverstein 2019, p. 56). Indexicality studies are open to meanings, values, and identities changing over time for a variety of reasons. However, indexicals also sediment into patterns with other semiotic repertoires and typifications to represent predictable identities, values, and meanings. It is such sedimentation of values attached to sets of indexicals that is referred to as enregisterment. In addition to entextualization and enregisterment, indexicals can also be recontextualized, their meanings or values changed to meet different purposes in different contexts. As described in the literature review, the good versus bad immigrant trope is common, and so indexicals relating to this binary and to the metaphors used to speak about immigrants may be reappropriated or recontextualized to meet the narrator’s goals in writing and sharing their reclaimant narratives.

In addition to indexicality, translingual practices such as codemeshing and code-switching may help writers index in-group values, mask relevant information from outsiders, represent belonging, and construct new textual homes that sidestep surveillance or appropriation (Reference CanagarajahCanagarajah, 2013, p. 113). In other words, these translingual practices hybridize the texts with values and identities that are typically not associated with such communicative activities or the proficiencies of those speakers, thus destabilizing the established norms and values in that context. Translingual practices transcend discourse in that various identities and values may also be intermixed. There are also rhetorical and indexical implications for these practices. For example, through translingual practices different registers can index distance or comfort and interpretations may differ based on the audience, whether they are part of the out-group or in-group. The rhetorical implications are to change, even in subtle ways, the negative and constricting rhetoric that already exists, going beyond the binary, expanding to show the complexity and humanity of immigrants.

In the two narratives that follow, we analyze the indexicalities these narrators create and the ways in which they codemesh and code-switch (i.e. translanguage), bringing in diverse codes in order to bring forth their authentic selves. Our analysis involved an iterative process of looking at these narratives and other texts and immigrant discourses in their expanded contexts. Moreover, our interpretation of translanguaging is based on the indexicalities emerging through the co-texts (surrounding textual context in which indexicalities are established) and expanded in the social and historical contexts surrounding the meshed items. The co-text helps us to understand the translingual practices. Moreover, indexicality makes more sense for those who understand the socio-historical context and, therefore, can have different meanings and values depending on the audience. For example, those in the in-group would understand more clearly more creative and nuanced recontextualizations of certain indexicalities or codemeshing within narratives. Strategizing in this way can help to create solidarity between the in-group and can also help to mitigate risks with out-group members who may not fully understand recontextualized indexicalities. One of the authors of this chapter grew up with an undocumented status, was exposed to the in-group context of being an immigrant with an undocumented status and uses this in-group knowledge in her analysis. The interpretations of indexicality in the chosen narratives below are informed by her identity and background knowledge. In the data provided, the switch in codes will be underlined and indexicals commonly found in mainstream immigrant discourses will be in bold.

Data Analysis

While much research has looked at immigrant narratives shared to support immigration reform, it is also important to pay attention to narratives which may serve more of a creative and playful outlet in spaces which are carved out specifically for immigrants, where they may have more freedom to bring forth more authentic voice and experiences through translingual practice (Reference Dryden, Tankosic and DovchinDryden et al., 2021). Other studies on reclaimant narratives appear not to have paid closer attention to the implications of code alternation for identity and ideological representations. The two narratives analyzed in this chapter come from a community website called Things I’ll Never Say. This website is “a platform for undocumented young people … to create our own immigration narratives by boldly sharing our personal experiences through various forms of creative expression”. Immigrants are encouraged to submit their works and to tell their “own stories” and thus also “show the power of art and creativity in vividly conveying truths about the undocumented experience” (thingsillneversay.org). The platform arose from a creative writing program offered by the organization Immigrants Rising (then known as E4FC, ‘Educators for fair consideration’). Immigrants Rising is a San Francisco-based organization which provides support and resources to immigrants with an undocumented status so that they “are able to get an education, pursue careers, and build a brighter future for themselves and their communities” (ImmigrantsRising.com).

The two narratives chosen for analysis here were written as part of the creative writing program offered by Immigrants Rising. The purpose of the program was to teach immigrants to create a “safe space and nurturing community that allows individuals to honor their immigration stories, grow and heal through their writing, and share their work with broader audiences” (thingsillneversay.org). Therefore, this is more of an in-group setting which may value, to a greater extent, the voice and agency of the narrators. Although these narratives were written for this creative writing program, this context differs from a more traditional classroom setting in that this class is not part of a school curriculum or taken for a grade, but is instead intended to help young narrators fulfill their own needs in sharing their stories.

In addition to the text, these two narratives are accompanied with YouTube videos of the narrators reading their work as part of the class. The narratives (found in Excerpt 1 and 2) are taken directly from the website. It is important to note that at times there are discrepancies between the written texts and the YouTube videos, and the first narrative has some spelling errors. However, there is no explicit statement about who uploads the narratives or the format used, and if spelling errors or syntactical choices are those of the authors or of someone else, or if the text was transcribed from the oral presentations that the narrators gave.

The first narrative seen in Excerpt 1 is written by Jose Mora and is untitled. This narrative is about the identity struggles that many immigrants face, especially those who come to the USA at a younger age – the struggle of feeling a loss of culture, language, and identity after living in the United States for so long without being able to go back to the country where they were born (Reference GonzalesGonzalez, 2016). The bolded text indicates the indexing of mainstream discourses.

Jose’s narrative is mostly written in English with some inclusion of Spanish. The first time that Jose uses Spanish comes at the beginning of the second stanza when he states that “casi no puede hablar mi españole”, I almost can’t speak my Spanish. Interestingly, Español is misspelled. If done intentionally, this could serve as a conscious commentary to illustrate that he is not fully proficient in the Spanish language. Moreover, by using the possessive “my Spanish”, Jose may be trying to reclaim something that he feels does not belong to him, but which he desires. This could also be a nod to his Spanish being different and being his own because of his own experiences. This codemeshing, which accomplishes a rhetorical purpose in a language he may not be proficient in, indexes his ambivalent perception of his own identity as Mexican. For example, Jose chooses to use Spanish in stating that he can barely speak Spanish, perhaps indicating that he is still trying to cling to the language. Moreover, the co-text, “yes, I’m Mexican, but I feel that I am not” contributes to understanding the indexicality of this sense of loss. This feeling of loss and distance is enregistered for the in-group who have an undocumented status. The codemeshing then is strategic and serves to further index a feeling of loss of and distance, not only from the Spanish language, but also his Mexican culture, an aspect which is often ignored in mainstream narratives since these narratives often do the opposite and emphasize Americanness in order to avoid risks with the out-group.

At the very end of the poem, Jose again incorporates Spanish when he lists the ingredients that go into Posole, a traditional Mexican dish: “carne de puerco, lechuga, oregano, cebolla, y maiz”. Introducing the ingredients in Spanish here serves to emphasize the cultural aspect of food and its connection to ethnic identity. This alternation indexes intimacy and a connection with his Mexican identity. Moreover, the surrounding co-text where Jose describes his mother cooking the dish and which transports him to a time where he remembers “family and laughter”, further highlights how special this dish is to his community. While the intimacy and closeness could be understood by both the in-group and out-group, only the in-group would have a more complete understanding of the feelings the making of food evokes and only they could fully appreciate the knowledge of this dish and the ingredients.

In contrast, Jose’s reference to the Taco and Burrito index superficiality. Taco and Burrito are borrowed words from Spanish which have now been enregistered in United States culture to index Mexican culture and food. The indexicality here is complex because of the connotations associated with the dishes in a US context versus a Mexican context. The types of Tacos and Burritos commonly known to Americans are different from those made by Mexicans. Furthermore, tacos and burritos are often entextualized as stereotypically Mexican foods and may also be used to superficially index Mexican culture. Therefore, Americanized versions of tacos and burritos can have a negative connotation to Mexicans since they have been appropriated and repackaged. The in-group would understand stereotypical tacos and burritos to be superficial and perhaps even insulting, while the out-group may not. This is corroborated by the co-text when Jose states “how typical” it would be to start learning his culture with tacos and burritos.

In addition to this stereotype, Jose also recounts how he was made fun of for saying “jello” instead of “yellow”. The pronunciation indexes his foreignness, and to the in-group, this indication of a foreign accent can index embarrassment and shame. Being made fun of for an accent is a common situation that many of the in-group have experienced and have felt shame for, therefore, it is an enregistered indexical. While this indexicality is related to shame for the in-group, the out-group would not be able to fully understand, or perhaps would only understand this as a mistake. Interestingly Jose contrasts that incident with that fact that now he has a “gringo” accent. The term gringo is an enregistered indexical used by Latinx people as a way to index a White person who may embody stereotypical and ignorant behaviors. Sometimes White people use the term to refer to themselves, such as when they want to bring awareness to any stereotypical behaviors or ignorance that they may display. Thus, “gringo” may index Jose’s distaste or displeasure in sounding like a White person when speaking Spanish.

In addition to codemeshing, Jose also negotiates and indexes racializing stereotypes that prevalently exist in dominant discourses to speak about immigrants with his own experiences and emotions as seen in bold. Jose recontextualizes certain harmful portrayals in order to fit and bring forth his own experiences and complicate the dominant discourses. For example, he includes racializing stereotypes when explaining the confusion others have when they see that he has “light brown” hair with a “hint of gold and the never-ending waves of curls” which prompt others to ask him if he is “mixed”. Racializing comments like these are enregistered and they index a valuing of Whiteness. He is asked if he is mixed, if he’s White, or Argentinian, ethnicities and nationalities index Whiteness. He even says “thank you” indexing the power and privilege associated with Whiteness. But still, it is all a miss from his actual identity, and those features only serve as a reminder that “The warm sun that use to constantly hit my face was left behind”. Therefore, while these features of Whiteness might be valued in more mainstream discourses and speakers may be chosen for these features, Jose recontextualizes the value that people have of Whiteness to show that it has taken him further away from his roots. In addition, Jose’s codemeshing and introduction of Spanish throughout illustrates how distant he feels from his Mexican identity as Spanish is used only in superficial ways. The indexicality here is different for the in-group and here again experience and knowledge is instrumental. Many racialized immigrants have experienced very similar questions: Where are you from? What are you? These types of questions are entextualized for the in-group as well as the emotions of ambivalent identities that the individuals themselves face.

The second narrative, seen in Excerpt 2, is titled Suitcase and it is written by Zulma Alejandra. Zulma is an American citizen who comes from a mixed status family, with her family members having an undocumented status. This story is about Zulma’s experience packing a suitcase and delivering it to her brother at a detention center where he is waiting to be deported back to Mexico. The original story is condensed here. Each paragraph has its own title, each title is the name of an article of clothing in the suitcase that she transports to the detention center. The asterisks note paragraphs that have been skipped.

Zulma’s narrative is full of translanguaging, not only with the use of different languages, but also different registers. Often she intertwines Spanish throughout the story to index similar in-group values. First, the word “maleta”, which means suitcase in Spanish, is the title of the story and she uses this word throughout except once when she carries it into the detention center. In this maleta/suitcase, Zulma and her mom pack up her brother’s life because he is being deported. Therefore, not only does the suitcase carry physical weight, but also emotional weight. Moreover, the use of Spanish indexes intimacy and the family values in addition to emphasizing the importance of the object. The switch from maleta to suitcase when Zulma carries it into the deportation center strategically emphasizes a disconnect from family when entering an English-oriented world, something that is more distanced, thus indexing coldness and separation. The movement between maleta and suitcase also constructs new textual homes and solidarity with the in-group, many of whom have probably experienced similar events, and closes out the out-group.

Moreover, Zulma’s choice to use Spanish when writing her mother’s reported speech and her own when speaking to her mother adds to the indexicality of Spanish and feelings of intimacy and in-group values, as well as serving as a way to distance the out-group from moments which are more tender and personal. The parts in which it is incorporated also feel very natural and are more easily understood to an audience of the in-group. Furthermore, using the Spanish “lagrimas”, tears, like “maleta” may carry more emotional weight in Spanish, rather than in English. Additionally, when mama and papa are used in Spanish, family and in-group values are further indexed. The times when Zulma switches to “my mom” instead of “mama”, however, displays a sense of detachment. This is emphasized by the co-text of her leaving the detention center, after the officer refuses to accept the overweight suitcase. The co-text provides information for how English may index a distance and apathy. In this way Zulma’s movement into Spanish indexes feelings of intimacy and familial values, whereas those to English index distancing and more coldness. Moreover, the use of Spanish indexes her ethnic identity and community and shows that she does not hide away from those roots, but that in fact make her feel more connected, indexing a distancing from English and, therefore, also “Americannes”. By indexing the affect of intimacy and value of love she mitigates this distancing from Americanness, which she might also feel more comfortable doing for herself and her family since she is a citizen, while her parents and brother have an undocumented status.

Zulma utilizes different codes throughout her narrative. There are moments where she creatively incorporates more informal slang to fit different purposes. For example, when she encounters the officer for the first time, she uses slang when she thinks “Dang, I swear I’m full Mexican”. In this moment, the co-text let the reader know that she hopes to have some solidarity with the officer since she suspects him to be Hispanic, and her thoughts match how she would interact with someone she might feel more comfortable with and so the switch indexes connectivity. However, the second time she encounters the officer, after learning that he is not a part of her in-group, she includes her own reported speech which is delivered with more agency and force. This is also corroborated with the co-text and the figurative language that she uses to describe the officer, “an angry bull”, “I charge the villain officer”. The figurative language in addition to the lack of slang and full use of English lend a more serious tone, again pointing to an indexicality of coldness associated with English as opposed to one of affect and familiarity associated with Spanish.

There are also moments where Zulma indexes dominant stereotypes, specifically the immigrant-as-criminal trope. This is seen in how others, including her mother, sometimes perceive or label her brother. For example, Zulma’s mother yells at her son that he looks like a gangster because of the way he wears his pants (“Te ves como un pandillero! Subete esos pantalones!”), and when they are at her brother’s hearing she recounts how he wore an orange suit, true “criminal attire”, but this attire, in Zulma’s eyes, did not make him look like a criminal, instead “He looked like a stranger”. She then adds that “he never looked like a criminal because he wasn’t one”. This part of the narrative serves to illustrate the dominant stereotype of the immigrant and she recontextualizes this portrayal and instead emphasizes that even though her brother was sometimes perceived as a gangster or was made to dress like a criminal, he never was one.

Discussion

Dominant discourses and portrayals of immigrants are widespread and heavily impact how immigrants are treated and perceived by others. Often, immigrants are set against a good versus bad immigrant binary, and this binary clearly comes up in Jose’s and Zulma’s narratives. For instance, Jose alludes to racializing discourses and complicates the good versus bad immigrant binary by not aligning with American values, but instead yearning for his Mexican roots. This is seen in his meshing of Spanish which contains errors, has been adopted into the English language and US culture, or which is intrinsically tied to Mexican culture, like the listing of ingredients. In fact, the intimacy and longing which is indexed when he codemeshes Spanish recontextualizes the ‘good’ immigrant category by showing his desire to learn more about his Mexican identity and a desire to belong, not to US ideals, but to his Mexican roots. His codemeshing also helps to mitigate repercussions of siding with Mexican identity because the indexicalities are affective and personal. Moreover, Jose empowers himself and his community by bringing up incidents in his own terms and perhaps doing so to let others know they’re not alone. Moreover, he indexes dominant immigrant discourses through the use of racialized stereotypes and superficial linguistic markers (taco and burrito, jello instead of yellow). By indexing stereotypes that immigrants are dark-skinned or that they only look a certain way, Jose comes into conversation with and exposes how racialized dominant discourses are when, in fact, reality is much different.

For Zulma, the movement to Spanish serves a slightly different purpose. The Spanish that Zulma uses requires greater proficiency and is often used in reported speech between herself and her mother to emphasize how Spanish and that culture dominates within the family dynamics, and also serves to index in-group and family values. Moreover, the moments where she uses Spanish carry more weight because they are more connected to family and her emotions; they welcome in-group audience into tender and heavy moments, but keep those of the out-group at a distance. Moreover, her changes in register from more informal to formal index her positioning to those around her. For example, when she thinks she might be able to connect with the deportation officer, she uses slang and is informal in her thoughts. However, when it is apparent that the deportation officer is not on her side, her thoughts become angry and her reported speech extremely formal. Like Jose, Zulma also indexes the good versus bad immigrant binary in her narrative. She does so by alluding to the immigrant as criminal trope and showing how her brother is physically and superficially perceived as a criminal by others, but she contrasts this with her personal note that “he never was” a criminal thereby refuting the trope. By including her own thoughts and indexing family values, she brings humanity to her brother’s portrayal.

Since Jose and Zulma write from a state of precarity, the instances where Jose aligns with his Mexican heritage and where Zulma criticizes the treatment of her brother and immigrants by the United States, as well as their inclusion of Spanish, could be dangerous and taken as an affront to the United States (Reference Sowards and PinedaSowards & Pineda, 2013). However, their code alternation also strategically distances those who belong to the out-group, while conveying solidarity with the in-group. Therefore, while their translingual writing practices may cause criticism and backlash from unsympathethic readers, these practices can also help to mitigate unwanted reactions by keeping the main text in English in deference to the mainstream. In this case, translingual practices provide voice and resistance by indexing the narrators’ connections to their heritage language and home countries. They also allow for a way to subtly negotiate dominant discourses by indexing different messages to the in-group and out-group, thus managing power differences.

Conclusion

The two narratives presented in this chapter exemplify what may happen when narrators are given the space to engage their full linguistic repertoires. Both Jose and Zulma translanguage throughout their narratives, sprinkling Spanish and other registers throughout in order to meet different goals and to exemplify their experiences, not only with the content of their stories, but also the structure. Their translingual practice further serves to mitigate criticisms by including indexicalities that the in-group will readily understand, while the out-group may not, and their codemeshing also adds an affective and human layer to their experiences. Additionally they index dominant discourses in order to bring them into question and contrast them with the reality of the immigrant experience.

In these narratives, codemeshing transcends discourses by fusing personal experiences and emotions to recontextualize limiting portrayals. In other words, the narrators create space to incorporate affect and complexity which is often missing in everyday discourses. Moreover, their translingual practices have rhetorical implications in showing how to mitigate criticisms and judgements through creative and reclaimant code alternation. While translingual studies have hitherto considered safer contexts, such as classrooms and playful social media, and those of the urban and educated, this study further adds to the literature by studying translingual practices in the contexts of precarity and vulnerability to show its value in allowing creative, subtle, and resistant communication for the minoritized.