Symbols, Language, and Changing Identities

Dr. Helen Cozmescu, Melbourne Graduate School of Education, The University of Melbourne

La Alabarda (the halberd symbol of Trieste, Italy) has featured as a sticker on every car I have owned. I expect the symbol, a white lance on a striking red background, would be unfamiliar to most motorists who view it on my back windshield. I ask myself, why across decades has this symbol been so important for me to display prominently? James Paul Gee’s understanding of how language, culture, and identity intersect may help to answer this question. Gee presents his theory of “Discourse”, written with a capital D, which describes how the ways of using language, thinking, acting, interacting, valuing, feeling, believing, along with objects, symbols, images, tools, and technologies, help to enact a particular socially recognisable identity (Gee, 1999; Gee, 2015). In other words, “Discourse” is a way of seeing yourself and of being in the world.

My identity is shaped by my family’s post-WW2 migration history. The threat of fascism in Italy led my parents to seek a politically stable life in Australia. Under government policies that aimed for assimilation, they became part of the wave of migration that created the “new-Australian”. My parents, who referred to themselves using this term, were new Australians, but I was not. Born in Australia, I spent my school years creating an Australian school-based persona as I tried to claim the title of Australian-born-Australian, shaping how I spoke, what I did, and how I was in the world. At the time, I was grateful for my parents' decision to give me an Anglophone first name rather than one that hinted at my background. My physical appearance, typical of northern Italian children, did not betray me, and I blended in easily with my schoolmates – those I saw as the real Aussies whose surnames were of English, Irish, or Scottish origin.

The moves between school and home led to identity shifts. The carefully constructed Australian identity, which included a pretence of English monolingualism and interest in activities considered typically Australian at the time, such as watching cricket or swimming at the pool, gave way to a multilingual identity.  At home, my identity was a child of new Australians, a child of Triestini parents. It was a multilingual identity, which incorporated translanguaging practices between English, Italian, and the Triestino dialect. It substituted cricket for bocce and swimming at the pool for play in the vegetable patch of eggplants, tomatoes, and cucumbers. It was an identity that could not be shared in my 1970s school setting, which openly prioritised English and cultural practices that stemmed from Britain.

As I child, I consciously kept these identities as mutually exclusive. As an adult, I look back and acknowledge the rich language and cultural experiences I had in both my Australian and Triestino contexts. As an educator, I see the centrality of language across identities and between them. Language was and is the gateway into my different worlds. English is the language I now use with my own family. It is the language of my academic work. But the ease and joy of using my first language, the Triestino dialect, brings great joy. This dialect has its origins in Latin but is influenced by Serbo-Croatian, German, and Slovenian languages. This was the language of growing up. It was the language of meals – patate in teccia, brodo, capuzi garbi, strucolo. It was the language of affection and endearment – cocola, stela, mia picia. It was the language to express exasperation, anger, and resentment – porca miseria, te tiro un colpo, te son tululu! It was the language of comfort.

The work of Homi Bhabha (1994) is useful to consider in this context. Bhabha explores the concept of fragmentation in identity formation. He proposes that identities are shaped through processes he terms 'cultural translation' and 'hybridity'. Bhabha's notion of 'cultural translation' involves the inherent imitation, reinterpretation, or appropriation of cultural elements and symbols. These are 'translated' in new contexts. Bhabha views identity as an ongoing process rather than a fixed or essential state. He situates identity within a continuous process of 'hybridity', arguing that new identities are constantly emerging.

Gee (1999; 2015) argues that people can negotiate different identities, that is, different Discourses, and the negotiation may create hybridity. However, it cannot be taken for granted that students can do this independently. The culturally and linguistically diverse student may require support from teachers, peers, and systems to feel they can safely engage with all their Discourses. Fitting in should not mean conforming to a language or culture, nor should it be about setting aside a language or culture. Teachers can support classrooms where cultural and linguistic diversity is celebrated. For example, by using resources in different languages, with multiple ways to access meaning, such as visuals or oral translation. Teachers could share their own experiences of diversity and encourage students to create visuals about their own identities. Critical examination of texts by teachers and students to ensure texts used in classrooms support the notions of cultural and linguistic diversity.

New identities may continue to emerge, but I know that for me, these will always be connected to La Alabarda. The symbol displayed in multiple contexts in Trieste is translated to a new context, as it travels with me on Australian roads. This symbol is an emblem of my hybrid identity, a visual representation of ongoing negotiations between cultures, and a testament to the enduring influence of family, history, and heritage in shaping a sense of self.

The journey through multiple Discourses, as Gee describes them, and the process of cultural translation and hybridity that Bhabha explores, are deeply personal experiences that continue to shape my identity.

As an educator, I recognise the importance of creating spaces where students can safely navigate and celebrate their diverse Discourses. This understanding has been profoundly influenced by my own experiences of negotiating between Australian and Triestino identities. New identities may continue to emerge, but I know that for me, these will always be connected to La Alabarda. The symbol displayed in multiple contexts in Trieste is translated to a new context, as it travels with me on Australian roads. This symbol is an emblem of my hybrid identity, a visual representation of ongoing negotiations between cultures, and a testament to the enduring influence of family, history, and heritage in shaping a sense of self. It serves as a constant reminder of the importance of embracing linguistic and cultural diversity in our classrooms and beyond.

La Alabarda, much like the Triestino dialect and the cultural practices I've described, represents a Discourse that has been central to my identity formation. It exemplifies how symbols, language, and cultural elements can be 'translated' across contexts, creating new meanings and identities. As educators, we must be mindful of the symbols and practices our students bring with them, recognising them as valuable components of their identities and potential bridges to new understandings.

Viva la e po’ bon!

References

Bhabha, H. K. (1994). The Location of Culture. London: Routledge.

Gee, J. P. (1999). An Introduction to Discourse Analysis: Theory and Method. Routledge.

Gee, J.P. (2015). Social Linguistics and Literacy: Ideologies in Discourses. Routledge.

Helen Cozmescu

Dr Helen Cozmescu is a Senior Lecturer in Languages and Literacies at the University of Melbourne. She currently coordinates the Master of Education course. Helen works with pre-service and in-service teachers across three Australian states. She employs qualitative research to investigate teachers’ literacy practices, with a particular interest in critical literacy, the early years of schooling, and how settler teachers engage students with First Nations texts.