code-switching
/ˈkoʊdˌswɪtʃ ɪŋ/
1. Linguistics. the alternating or mixed use of two or more languages, especially within the same discourse: My grandma’s code-switching when we cook together reminds me of my family's origins.
Bilingual students are discouraged from code-switching during class.
2. Sociolinguistics. the use of one dialect, register, accent, or language variety over another, depending on social or cultural context, to project a specific identity:
Politicians use code-switching on the campaign trail to connect with their audience.
3. the modifying of one's behavior, appearance, etc., to adapt to different sociocultural norms:
For many female Muslim students, code-switching from their home environment to that of school requires forgoing the hijab.
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“ I really
hate it here.” The man said.
“I
know, dear, I know.” The woman replied.
“Seriously,
I don’t know how these people can tolerate this place.”
“Well
they can’t really help it, can they? It’s
not like they can leave. They just make
do with what they have.”
“Can’t…right,
of course. I almost forgot how backwards
these…people are. God this place is terrible.
Why did we even come here?”
“You
know why. And don’t be such a
downer. It’s not that bad. Sure the people are a little simple, and they
don’t have much in the way of technology, but it has its charm.”
“Charm? These people are terrible. So brutal and animalistic. I doubt they even count as people.”
“Now
that just is not true. They have feelings
just like we do. And I know you don’t
like this place very much, but you’re just going to have to adapt. We’ll be here for awhile, so we have to blend
in as much as possible if we want everything to go smoothly.”
“I
know, I know. But I don’t have to like
it.”
The man
looked around. Everything he saw
disgusted him. His mind reeled with how
the locals lived.
“But do
we really?” He asked.
“Really
what?”
“Do we
really need to stay here? With these
people? We can leave at any time, and
you know it. It wouldn’t even be that
hard. Sure the trip is a little long,
but so what? It’ll be worth it to get
out of this backwater dump.”
“You know
why we can’t leave. We have to stay
here. We need these people. So get over yourself. We have to act like they do, or else they’ll
be too scared of us to do anything. We
can’t have that, so buck up and at least try and act like they do.”
“What
if I don’t want to act like them, huh?
Would that be so bad? I will say
this for them, they don’t immediately lock up people who act different. Unless I do around yelling at clouds or
something, they’ll probably just look at me funny and then move on.”
“You
have a point. But no. It’s best not to attract too much attention.”
“Can we
at least wear real clothes? These things
are uncomfortable.”
“You
think you have it rough? Look at what I’m
wearing. Just…just tolerate it,
okay? I’ll admit I’m not thrilled to be
here either, but it’s a necessary evil.”
“Fine,
fine.” The man’s shoulders slumped in resignation. He could not go against her anyway. Not if he wanted this trip to be even remotely
tolerable anyway. He huffed and looked
around. “Still, I can’t believe we have
to be here with these…primitives.”
“Now,
now dear. You don’t have to go that
far. You can at least call them by their
name.”
“Do I
have to?”
“Not
all the time. Probably not to their face
anyway. But yes, they do call themselves
something. You can at least try to use
it as something other than an insult.”
“Ugh,
fine. Humans. Even the name is terrible. The sooner we get off this damn planet and
somewhere with actual civilized people the better.”
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What did you think it was? I mean really, given some of the other stuff I've written, could it have really been anything other than aliens? Well, i suppose it COULD have been something else, but where would the fun in that be?
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