The French draw a distinction
between parole, the faculty of language,
and langue, its conceptual existence.
English only pretends to.
We have separate words,
speech and language,
but lazily we lump them together,
call them synonyms. Interchangeable.
In France, Canada, Senegal, Haiti,
our concept of language
is unattainable.
Chomsky and all his friends agree,
inventing two languages,
I and E. You can only have I,
and many debates will heat up
over whether E even exists.
They cut out our tongues
and we lost our writing, too.
They have robbed you of your speech.
They have placed the toughest P.O.
on your parole. You can only have I,
and it is specific to you.
Your tone, your style, these too are gone
with the lost your most immediate capacity.
The French draw a distinction.
Analysts will call them more precise.
Perhaps they only know the value of a voice.
Inside the mind of a kind of quirky, pretty stubborn, way too opinionated, twenty-something, heteroflexible Black female newly employed up-and-moved-to-DC Princeton GRADUATE who's just trying to sort out her life. An uninhibited celebration of all that is me, this blog is an exercise in self-discovery and live-with-your-heart-wide-open-ness. Though I make respect a habit, I will not always be politically correct, and I believe in the power of making audiences uncomfortable to inspire change.
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