r/LinguisticsDiscussion

Hola a todos :)

Esta es la primera vez que hago una publicación en Reddit, así que no sé muy bien cómo saldrá.

Desde la Universidad de Barcelona estamos haciendo una investigación sobre cómo influyen los roles de género en la transmisión intergeneracional del quechua y necesitamos encontrar a voluntarios y voluntarias que se presten a unas pequeñas entrevistas de 10-15 min en las cuales nos cuenten experiencias respecto a la lengua.

Buscamos perfiles variados: no importa el género ni la edad, ya que nos interesa contar con personas de diferentes generaciones y contextos.

Por supuesto, todo lo hablado en la entrevista se tratará con anonimato para proteger la identidad de las personas prestadas.

¿Alguien sabe con quién puedo contactar para hacerlo o de alguien que pueda estar interesado?

¡Muchas gracias!

I thought I had a speech impediment.
That I was slow.
That maybe a muscle in my face had been torn wrong at birth.

But later I realized it was just an accent.

My tongue is the first in my bloodline forced to dance to this tune.
My mouth still reaches for home every time it opens.

English sits heavy on me.
Like teaching a river to flow backward.
Like tying branches of a tree into shapes they were never meant to grow.

My mouth reacts like a reflex.
Like autocorrect.
Constantly translating before I even have the chance to think.
Bending sounds into something more acceptable.
Something easier for others to digest.

There are certain words my tongue still trips over,
not because it is broken,
but because it remembers another language first.

People hear hesitation.
I hear generations colliding inside my mouth.

My mother tongue lives in the muscles of my face,
in the way I roll my r’s too long,
in the pauses where Spanish still tries to save me before English arrives.

Sometimes I envy people whose mouths were born belonging here.
Whose sentences walk out effortlessly without an accent dragging behind them like luggage.

But then I remember:
my tongue crossed borders before the rest of me ever could.

It survived.
Even after being bent into new sounds,
it still carries the echo of where I came from.

🪴