code switched/at birth: a senior speech Dawnya Green ‘21

CODE SWITCHED/AT BIRTH: A SENIOR SPEECH

Dawnya Green

I told you I was done lying I told you I was done lying I told you I was done lying complacent See....I’ve learned that it’s essential to my being to have boundaries, and priorities. How much of myself will I let go in order of importance

To succeed in any given environment my academic integrity shouldn’t correlate to my speech patterns nor my mannerisms my eloquence is only assumed because of my widened vocabulary, spatial awareness neatly stitching my words together, and calm con dence resembling smooth, cooling waters

e facts of who I am and what I am to be are multidimensional, in that everything I do is in one way or another inspired by my culture which reaches past boundaries to create new ones. It fosters a sense of belonging — to something that’s bigger than my surroundings.

e subtle in ections, drops, and so called “drawl” of my voice mimics the cascading rivers of my youth, of my past. e highs and lows almost sound like a song, one native to my (reclaimed) land, my reclaimed voice and sound. My language is not like yours, it breaks all standards in a unique and lilting (lifting) cadence that enraptures all ears within its greatness.

I have to scrounge for scraps and morsels of what might create a mental mirage of an entire ancestry merely to feel content with my place in the evolution of my culture, my black culture.

my dear culture is the very lifeblood that is tapped by all that interact with it, leaving its body (those born into the culture) left dry and weakly calling out against yet another injustice.

I’d never known an alphabet to write my native/regional dialect until a wave of education (new to me, but not directed at me) shed light on something I’d rather stay in the dark. Pandering, may we call it? Commodi cation? ievery? is act goes by many names. My ingrained knowledge hasn’t found the need to put paper to pen. I live orally; why isn’t that allowed to be separate from society’s colonization of language!

is goes out to all those that want to steal my language and butcher it in ways I’ve never imagined. e broken ebonics that blurts from uncultured lips falls on my ears in screeches similar to nails on a chalkboard and is a stark contrast to the calm reality of people staying in their cultural place.

e paltry attempts at imitating us sound like dissonant keys being smashed by a baby who has yet to learn how to control or position their ngers and arms, to dance between lines of black and white, of at and sharp, to create a rainbow of sound...

CODE SWITCHED/AT BIRTH: A SENIOR SPEECH | Dawnya Green (continued)

I say this in all candidness: if the shoe ts, I implore you to wear it. Don’t walk around barefoot just to avoid putting on the shoe of hard truths. Don’t be shy, put it on!

I chose my speech. I chose to speak on what was taught to me and what I’ve taught myself.

To close this, speech is so important....

to you to me to my people our voices, though they resound loud as the rolling sea, are often quieted and appropriated until we lose them, croaking from hoarse throats.

However, the great thinkers of old have said that language never dies so with this eternal tool of a language, i give you A performance

one unintentional one nonetheless impactful I didn’t intend to perform this, seeing as I’ve been sick and tired of being sick and tired of performing versions of myself daily for the last 4 years.

For weeks preceding this, I asked myself what version of myself am I bringing to this stage ( gurative and possibly literal) today? What attributes and mannerisms am I going to choose, as if I’m cherry-picking o of a tree planted by the emotional labor most unwanted in the world.

I wanted to be authentic only to myself in my multifacetedness

e thought of switching into code ravaged me and made me think to myself:

the idea of laying/going to bed with your demons could be like shaking the hand of your curses every morning. How can you say you’re breaking this generational curse when you’re befriending it every time you enter a certain space?

Every waking day has led me to wonder if there’s an end in sight to this (my) speech, to this, my life to this, our ght I don’t think there’s a happy ending here, no present wrapped in an ornate bow, except for me (and all that i represent).