The author recounts their experiences growing up in multicultural environments, having moved eight times by age eleven. The most significant relocation occurred at age three, when the family moved from Singapore to Hong Kong. While English was the primary language spoken at home, the author began to learn Cantonese, a language that now feels both intimate and foreign due to its acquisition in a school setting. They recall being an observer in many situations, hindered by their limited Cantonese, and frequently compare instances of bilingual text—such as cereal boxes and subway ads—wondering which language came first.
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On Hong Kong’s MTR subway, announcements are made in three languages, while Singapore’s MRT features announcements in up to four. This exposure to multiple languages led the author to a career in literary translation, working from languages including German, Italian, as well as Cantonese and Mandarin Chinese. The allure of translation lies in the idea that the words chosen come from a completely different context, creating the illusion of self-effacement for the translator.
Recently, the author published their first poetry translation, a collection by Hong Kong writer Yau Ching titled *for now I am sitting here growing transparent*. In the book, the author describes Yau Ching's poems as “self-translating,” as they emerge from Hong Kong's bilingual landscape. The translator notes that translating these works into English inhabits a space that the originals already occupy but uneasily.
The author reflects on their family’s language dynamics during childhood. While their parents spoke English to their children, they communicated in Mandarin with each other. Mandarin has always been part of the author’s inner language, yet they did not speak it aloud until moving to Shanghai at age 25. The author references writer Jennifer Shyue’s essay “Mother’s Tongue,” which distinguishes the concepts of a mother tongue from a mother’s tongue, revealing different experiences of language acquisition.
The author grapples with what truly constitutes their mother tongue, considering Cantonese, Mandarin, and English. Their grandparents, who lived in Singapore and Malaysia, spoke various languages including Malay, Hokkien, and Japanese, reflecting a historical narrative of multilingualism. The author also highlights their mother’s choice to speak English, prioritizing practicality for potential future relocations over linguistic comfort.
Now raising preschool-aged children in the U.S., the author primarily communicates in English, occasionally using Mandarin for privacy and to encourage language learning. They note the complexity of being an immigrant parent, where decisions on language often lean toward the expedient rather than a natural fit. This notion of a mother tongue often implies a seamless connection between parent and child.
The author contemplates their desire for transparency in translation and in identity, while highlighting that Yau Ching’s poetic exploration of transparency suggests an active process rather than a passive state. In her poem