My apologies for having you stare at the title of this post for a good five minutes, likely with a raised eyebrow, squinted eyes, and a scrunched nose. The translation is simple: “Hungarian, Arabic, or English?” A question I ask myself every day, every hour, and sometimes, every few minutes — and no, not rhetorically. The confusion you had trying to figure out what the title says is the confusion I face daily due to the fact that I speak 3 different languages, and I have to constantly focus on when to use which. Yes, of course, I am indeed aware of the privilege I have for having learnt all 3 languages, almost fluently I’d say, but also, it is important to be aware of the bumps down the road. It’s not all rainbows and butterflies, and especially not when you start creating a language of your own, often understood by no one but yourself — “szerintem ez nem necessary.” This happens all the time, and guess what? I have to think of the correct translation each time as well. For instance, my mom probably doesn’t know what “necessary” means, so I’d have to flip through the thousands of pages in my brain to find the correct Hungarian term, and more often than not, it would just lead to a misunderstanding instead; causing me to give up on the conversation and move forward.

 

Although many, including myself, are quick to point out how colonialism has pushed us into throwing our own languages behind, and instead, focusing on adapting the English language to become what they call “successful,” we should also evaluate the positive outcomes that colonialism has brought to us, and the privileges we are now served on a silver platter because of it. The English language, in my opinion, is not as beautiful as our own may be, because underneath the words we see, hides the tradition and culture white colonialists lack, indeed. However, despite its history, it is a language that unites those of us who would otherwise be separated, and it pulls us together like a ribbon pulls together the gift wrapping paper on a sweater. Without the English language, you — who is possibly sitting on the other side of the world with a background so different from my own — wouldn’t be able to read my writing, and I wouldn’t be able to share my work. Nor would I be able to attend NU-Q. Instead, my opportunities would narrow, and I would wonder what I could do to be considered more. What I could do to matter in a world full of ruling white males who offer no care to those who work day and night to build their country into what it is today.

 

As a student who’s studying communications and media, it is interesting to look into how I can use being trilingual to my advantage in the world of storytelling. Will my ability to speak 3 different languages help me become a so-called “successful” creator, or will it be a useless skill I’ll slowly lose due to lack of use? To share is to show, to speak, to write, and to express. In whatever form you decide to share your story, if language is a factor, isn’t it more effective to share your story to the 1.35 billion English speakers around every corner of the globe (Statista, 2021), than to share your story to, for example, the much more limited, Hungarian population? Of course, this depends on the context of your writing, film, or art, but to have the privilege to share something with such a large potential audience is a privilege we often forget we have; sometimes because of the normality of the situation, or maybe because we don’t realize the disadvantage those who don’t speak English have. So, lastly, a Magyar, az Arab vagy az Angol nyelvet válasszam?