Because You Never Asked

LINGUISTIC RAMBLINGS

(6/08, Spain)

     One of the most telling indications of how the human mind works; of how the human mind views its surroundings and puts all the tangible evidence its organism is bombarded with into some form of workable framework, is reflected in language. The sounds that come out of our mouths are the first signs of not just what we perceive, but of what the human mind is capable of. The voluminous richness of human language is the most obvious badge of a species that has gone way beyond the rest, for better or worse, ‘til death do us part.

     For any native English speaking person, one of the most annoying aspects of trying to learn almost any of the occidental tongues we most come in contact with, is the peculiar way these languages divide their nouns into masculine and feminine words. English seems to be the only one that confines sexual identity to the gender of living organisms. At times, we Anglo-speakers may refer to something like a car with “ain’t she a beauty”, but such expression can only be considered a relatively picturesque usage, one having no bearing on the grammatical structure of the language.

      This is as it should be.

     Other than to fluster English speaking people, this gender division of words serves no purpose visible with anything less than a high powered microscope --- and maybe not even that. The inclusion of this division does nothing to make any of these languages more expressive, creative or versatile than the uni-gender nouns used in English. This masculine-feminine word segregation can only be seen as a vestigial linguistic organ that has survived many centuries worth of blabber as little more than a useless habit.

     But the ease with which the native speakers of these languages assimilate this complication is astounding. It is a clear example of what the human mind can catalog and store away for spontaneous use whenever called upon to do so, and it has nothing to do with schooling or intellectual formation. Even an illiterate Spaniard, or a child whose verbal skills are only 2 or 3 years into development, swims like a dolphin in the grammatical waters caused by this masculine-feminine dichotomy. It’s as if they’ve developed a neurological center we English speakers do not have, simply because they are made to deal with this and we are not.

     A recent incident in my life will serve to better explain all this, but I will first try to give the reader a bare-to-the-bone explanation of how this gender division works in a tongue like Spanish.

     In English, where only reproductive organisms acting relative to their gender are given a sexual connotation, a mountain, a frying pan, the grass, etc., has no sexual identity. This means the articles that introduce them are always the same: the, a, and all their plural forms. It also means all the adjectives that modify these sexless nouns are always the same. It also means all the words like it, he, she, them, her, him, his, hers, both as pronouns and objects of verbs, are always the same --- and other stuff like that. In English, when we say “the house is pretty”, it will be said and written exactly the same as “the building is pretty”, except for the change from “house” to “building”. If we go on to say, referring to either the house or building, “somebody has to paint it”, that “it”, used as an object of the verb, will never change.

     Hooray!

     And then there are these gender divisive languages that give every noun a sexual identity. Ughh! This means every article, every pronoun, every object of the verb, every adjective modifying a noun, will change with the gender of the noun it is attached to. “The house is pretty” in Spanish would be, “La casa es linda”. “Casa” (house) is a feminine word, thus demanding the feminine article “La” (the). The adjective modifying the house, “linda” (pretty), will also have to be used in its feminine form. Compare this to “the building is pretty”: “El edificio es lindo”. “Edificio” (building) is a masculine word which demands the masculine article “El” (the) and the masculine form of the modifying adjective, “lindo” (pretty). If we go on and say in Spanish, “somebody has to paint it”, if it is a “house” (casa) we say: “alguien tiene que pintarla”. If we say the same thing but it is a building (edificio), it must be this: “alguien tiene que pintarlo” --- “la” for the feminine house (casa), “lo” for the masculine building (edificio).

     In other words, this constant matching of everything that orbits around the gender of a noun is, for us Anglo-tongued barbarians, a royal pain in the ass, one that is almost impossible to get truly comfortable with.

     Although there are some semi-reliable-unreliable clues as to a noun’s gender --- words ending in “a” are usually feminine, those ending in ”o” masculine, and a few others --- one thing is for sure: the fact that a word might have a masculine or feminine quality does not mean jack. Almost all the vernacular terms I know for the male sexual organ --- verga, polla, pinga --- are feminine words. On the contrary, perhaps the most widespread vulgarism used to denote the female sexual organ --- cono --- is masculine. A bra --- sosten --- is masculine --- and so it goes.

     Go figure.

     The incident mentioned above will serve to show the dexterity with which the indigenous speakers of gender divisive languages deal with this, as well as the innate clumsiness of the Anglo native in trying to confront it.

     I have a friend I’ve played tennis with for many years here by the Roman Sea. I’ll call him Jaime. Jaime has a lovely 6 year old daughter I’ll call Rubi. The first thing Jaime told me this year was that Rubi had started playing tennis, was enrolled in some local program, and was doing really well, like hey, you have to see her play. As a result, as an addition to her tennis classes, Jaime, Rubi and myself have these little training sessions every weekend. I’m not sure what the men and women we see on TV played like at the age of 6, but Rubi might be it.

     In any event, last Sunday, when Jaime and myself had had enough --- Rubi is like a dog who will chase a ball all day --- we piled in the car and headed home. On the way, Jaime realized he needed something at the market. He parked and ran in, thus leaving Rubi and myself alone in the car. It wasn’t long before Rubi was showing me her new sneakers, a Wilson number with little girly pink trim, weren’t they nice? Of course Rubi, they’re very nice, but the most important thing is for your sneaker to be comfortable. Is it comfortable?

     Now class, the Spanish word for sneaker is “zapatilla”, a feminine noun. When I asked Rubi “is your sneaker comfortable, I said, “es tu zapatilla comodo”? As soon as I said “comodo” (comfortable) I knew I’d used the wrong form of the adjective. I often do this because my Anglo speech patterns lack this mysterious neurological connection between a noun and everything that revolves around it. This means when I talk in Spanish, I have to think about this, even if only for the most fleeting mili-moment. I usually get it right, but sometimes one gets tired of dealing with it and --- out comes “comodo”.

     But it’s no big deal. It doesn’t effect the conversation, it’s just “gringo talk”, everybody gets it, life goes on. Rubi answered immediately, “si, es comoda” (yes, it is comfortable).

     And there it was, right down the middle, without even needing the word “zapatilla”, which was left dangling in history two sentences ago, that neurological connection between the noun and the adjective modifying it, tied it together: “comoda”.

     This is nothing short of amazing. Rubi is a 6 year old. Matching nouns to adjectives has no conscious place in her mind. She has not even conceived of such a thing. For Rubi, the rules of grammar have about the same meaning as E = mc squared. How does she do it?

     You all know where to find me. Let me know.           

back to the Table of Contents

Email: JerryG@postcman.info